A Daring Liaison(31)

“I...I suppose. I do not know much of inheritance laws, but I am certain they would have some sort of claim. After all, they feel it is within their rights to claim conservatorship over the assets and me into the bargain. In fact, if I become engaged again so soon, it would lend credence to Mr. Foxworthy’s contention that I am incapable of rational behavior.”

Walter Foxworthy. He would know everything worth knowing about the man by this time tomorrow. If anyone would make a claim on Georgiana Huffington, it would be him.

He stood. “I shall be by to pick you up at seven o’clock tomorrow evening. Lord Carlington is hosting a ball at the Argyle Rooms. I think a quiet announcement to family and friends of our pending nuptials would be an appropriate place to start. Unless—” he turned to her with a quirked eyebrow “—you’d rather have a formal announcement with all that implies.”

Her eyes widened and something churned in his stomach. As she stood, a faint scent of lilac wafted up to him. Lord, she did not have to do much to bring him to a boil.

“Goodness, no! Even if it were real, making a formal announcement would be inappropriate. We must not make too much of this or it will be awkward to extricate ourselves when it is over.”

He gave her a grim smile. “That will have little significance, Mrs. Huffington. I do not intend to marry, and you’ve declared you are done with matrimony. It will signify nothing if we are both branded as jilts.”

“Very well. If you are not concerned over your reputation, why should I be?”

Ah, she was peeved. But why? His offhand approach to their plan? Or did she, indeed, mean to seek out a third husband, despite her protests? It was time to remind her who she was playing with. He stepped closer to her and tilted her chin up to him. “I think we should behave in a more familiar manner, Mrs. Huffington. How can we hope to convince society we are fond of each other if we snap and address each other with formality? Yes, I think I shall call you Georgiana on occasion, and you should refer to me as Charles. If we were really betrothed, such familiarity would be convincing, would it not?”

“I...I...”

“I think so, too,” he said as he lowered his lips to hers. After a moment of shock, she relaxed and accepted his gesture. Her lips trembled just enough for him to know that she was not as calm as she seemed. No doubt she took comfort from the fact that they were in her home, and he would not dare take advantage of her here.

Poor deluded thing.

He slipped his arm around her and drew her close, relishing the feel of her soft breasts crushed to his chest and her little intake of breath when she felt the evidence of his arousal against her. The way she parted her lips—half innocent, half wanton—was incredibly erotic to him. An enigma he wanted to explore. Indeed, if it was not imperative that he hand on this information to Richardson at once, he would take this not-so-innocent kiss a great deal further.

Reluctantly, he released her. “I think I am going to enjoy this charade, Georgiana.”

* * *

“Magnifique!” Madame Marie exclaimed as she inspected her handiwork. “Turn about, Mrs. ’Uffington. ‘Ave you ever seen anything so lovely?”

Georgiana could barely look at her reflection in the mirror the next afternoon at La Meilleure Robe. Self-loathing rather than modesty was the cause. She could not wipe from her mind how she had allowed Charles Hunter to continue his attempts to seduce her when she knew full well that he only wanted the challenge, and did not bear any particular fondness for her.

“Come, little Georgiana. Do not sulk. When the seams are all sewn, you will like it better. No?”

“Oh! I was thinking of something else, Madame. Of course I like the gown.” She finally gave herself a critical glance in the tall cheval looking glass. The gown was really quite remarkable. The color was as stunning as Madame had promised, and the style was...well, unlike any other she owned.

Aunt Caroline had picked all her gowns from a fashion book and had employed the village dressmaker to execute them. Gina had told her once that she’d thought Georgiana dowdy when they’d first met. But no one would think her dowdy in Madame Marie’s gown. The cut emphasized the curve of her breasts and the slender figure beneath. So this was what Madame had meant by using the new lower waist. The woman was a genius.

Georgiana smoothed the drape of the soft violet silk over her hips and sighed. “I’ve never had a gown more beautiful, Madame. I think I should have one in every color.”

The modiste chortled. “Not every color, I think, chèri. But a few more of this cut would discourage your competition. No?”