A Daring Liaison(48)

“Disappointing,” he murmured. “Do you mind telling me why?”

“I never should have agreed to such a reckless plan. It is not too late to turn back. All we need do is tell the appropriate people that we’d been a bit precipitate. I doubt the rumor has had much time to spread.”

He laughed. “In London? Surely you are not that naive. I would imagine society matrons are already ordering gowns for the wedding and their husbands are making wagers as to whether I will make it to the altar alive.”

She winced and he regretted his teasing. “Too late for cold feet, Georgiana,” he said. “We are bound to go through with this now. We’ve set the stage, and I think we should start making more public appearances together. The more people who know, the more likely we will provoke a response from our villain.”

“But that is just it!” She came forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I cannot risk your life. I cannot.”

“I thought we were agreed that it was the fastest way to get to the bottom of our little mystery.”

“Oh! It is not a little mystery. Three men are dead! And you could be next. How could I live with that?”

“You care?” He strove to sound blasé, but his future hung on her answer.

“Of course I care. You have been very kind to me. Without your help, I would not have come so far.”

“And how far is that?”

“I...I...”

“Precisely. Not nearly far enough. We are on the verge of discovery, Georgiana. We have taken a path and committed to it. We would be foolish to abandon it now.”

She looked desperate, as if she were about to cry. “Charles, there was a man tonight. At Vauxhall, when you went to fetch the others for supper.”

A tingle of anticipation prickled the hair on the back of his neck. “A man? Why did you not tell me?”

She answered his last question first. “He warned me not to say anything. I thought he might have a weapon and would hurt you. He mentioned that he would rather ‘cut me’ than have me with you.”

Charles’s heart went ice cold. “Who was it, Georgie?”

“I do not know. I never saw his face. He came up behind me and warned me not to turn around. He told me to stay away from you and your brothers. He said you were not for me.”

“What the—?” Who would warn her against him? “Has he ever come to you before? Did anything like this, any warnings, happen before your marriages?”

“I’ve never heard that voice before. I swear it. But when he said your name, I feared for you. Oh, Charles, I do not want you to die.”

Then she did care. And for the moment, that was enough. What matter if he died tomorrow as long as he had tonight? He pulled her into his arms and looked into her eyes—those captivating eyes that had haunted his dreams for the last seven years.

Her lips parted on a sigh and her hand came up to stroke the back of his neck as she lifted on her toes to meet him halfway. There was something shy and innocent about that kiss that humbled him. He took her offered lips and nibbled at the corners until she moaned and tightened her arms around him.

“Charlie...kiss me, please,” she said on a sigh.

And he did just that, plundering the heated recess of her mouth with all the ardor he’d held back when he’d expected rejection. His desire was wreaking havoc with his body. He didn’t want to give it rein. He wanted to make love to her as she deserved. Slowly. Softly. Thoroughly. He’d not given her his best last time, and he would not have her again until he could.

And he could not when he half expected Hathaway to return to fulfill his threats. Or when he had to solve the puzzle of who the strange man in Vauxhall Gardens had been. The bastard would rather cut her? Not while he was alive. Damn it all, he would have to make new plans.

While he was still able, he broke the kiss, unwound her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “I will be in the library. Call if you need me. Good night, Georgiana.”





Chapter Eleven




Georgiana read the note from Charles for a third time, her mind bouncing between anger and gratitude. It seemed he had spent the night in her library making plans for her safety. When morning came, she found he’d hired a bodyguard, dressed him in footman’s livery and sent him to protect her against Hathaway’s possible return or any mischief he might have in mind. The man’s name was Finn, the note read, and Charles further instructed her to take him with her to any appointments or outings. And he was standing before her in the foyer this very instant.