A Daring Liaison(9)

“I am not long in her acquaintance,” she admitted. “Miss Eugenia O’Rourke—oh, sorry, Mrs. Hunter since her marriage to your brother, but she was an O’Rourke when I met her—introduced us.”

“And how do you know Gina?”

“Last fall when Aunt Caroline and I came to town, we met in mutual company. I was previously acquainted with the Misses Thayer, who made the introductions.”

“Hortense and Harriett? Aye, the twins know everyone between the two of them. Did you all go about together?”

“Occasionally.” She paused and looked up at him as if she would say more, then glanced down again and the moment passed. “Not long after our arrival, Aunt Caroline and I returned to Kent. There was...trouble. And Aunt Caroline felt we should go home.”

Trouble? Was that how she thought of her most recent conquest’s death? Aye, he’d wager that would send her back to the countryside to hide. He stopped and took her hand, mildly surprised by its softness and warmth. “May I offer my condolences on your aunt’s death? I am told time will ease the loss.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed them back with her free hand before they could fall. “It was quite unexpected. I do not believe she was much in pain.”

As they continued to stroll in silence, still holding hands, Charles was surprised that she hadn’t sought to break the contact. All the better for him, since accustoming her to his touch was a part of his plan. Her little half smile was back and he breathed a little easier. He’d learned that the more a woman smiled, the less suspicious she was.

After a moment or two, she spoke again. “Did I hear your sister say that you are bound for the Foreign Office?”

“It has been mentioned to me as a possible option, but I have not made a decision. I have unfinished business where I am.”

“And where is that, Mr. Hunter?”

“London,” he told her without a twinge of conscience. Though it was no secret that he was with the Home Office, he perpetuated the myth that he was a minor clerk to Lord Wycliffe at Wycliffe’s suggestion. Only his brothers knew the extent of his activities.

“The Foreign Office sounds wonderfully exotic. I think I would love to travel, though I have not done enough of it to know.”

Charles shrugged. “My family has always believed in service to one’s country. All of us have traveled extensively, and allow me to assure you, Mrs. Huffington, that there is no place on earth like England.”

“Still, I have nothing left to hold me here, and it might be nice to see something of the world. That is the one benefit that Aunt Caroline’s infirmity denied me.”

He looked down at the top of her head, bowed to the pebbled path. Her scent, the soft warmth of her hand as it rested in his, the curve of her throat that begged his kisses, and the fullness of her lips just waiting for his. His eyes slipped lower to the provocative swell of her breasts above the modest neckline of her gown. Though they were mostly hidden from view, his imagination fueled an immediate and strong response in his body. One that he hoped Mrs. Huffington was yet innocent enough to miss.

He shook his head to clear it. Was this part of her allure—this mixture of worldliness and innocence? The undeniable appeal that had lured two men, perhaps three, to their deaths?

“Is something amiss, Mr. Hunter?” she asked.

The lowered intimacy of her voice caused him to stop and face her again. There was an unquestionable risk in growing closer to the woman, but he was a man who’d always liked the thrill of danger. “Mrs. Huffington, I hope you will not think me presumptuous, but how long do you plan to be in town?”

“No longer than it will take me to settle matters regarding Aunt Caroline’s estate. I find London society a bit...ruthless.”

He, too, lowered his voice. If the chit was flirting, he’d give her more than she’d bargained for. “If you are referring to the gossip shared over teacups, I cannot deny it. But I hope you will be staying longer.”

* * *

Georgiana’s heart tripped. He leaned closer. Too close. “Are you flirting, Mr. Hunter?”

He gave her the boyish smile that used to turn her insides to mush. “Neither of us is innocent of the world and its...pleasures.”

She held her breath as he lifted her hand and bent his head to brush his lips across her knuckles. A dark lock of hair fell across his forehead, and instant warmth seeped through her. She knew quite well that Aunt Caroline had been right about him. He teased, he flirted and once he’d stolen a kiss, he was on to the next woman. Who would know that better than she? Charles Hunter was an irresistible rake who had broken half the hearts in the ton. But not hers for a second time. She was immune.