Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(83)

“Really? What?” Edgar demanded.

“Just a book.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Georgina summoned all the dignity of an older sister who had wiped his sticky face after an indulgence in sweets and helped him down when he got stuck in a tree. “Whyever not?”

“What’s in the bag?” Edgar demanded.

Georgina clutched it to her side. It clanked.

Joanna came around the corner, stopping in surprise when she found the two of them practically at her bedchamber door.

Georgina jumped in before either of the others could speak. “Oh, Joanna, there you are. Edgar was looking for you. He has some suggestions for the ritual.”

“Suggestions?” Joanna bridled and frowned at Edgar. “What sort of suggestions?”

Edgar glared at Georgina. He silently mouthed, I will get you for this.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Georgina said. Suppressing a spurt of laughter—more relief than amusement—she fled. Moments later, she stood with her back to her bedchamber door, heart pounding. It was over; she’d done it. She leaned there for the space of a few deep breaths.

When she’d calmed down a bit, she took the page she’d scrawled in Joanna’s room over to her own writing desk. She needed to reinscribe the passage while it was fresh in her mind. She’d been writing so fast that some of it was barely legible. Then she’d go and find Sebastian. Dropping into the chair, she laughed again as she reached for her pen.

“You’re really good at this,” Georgina said to Sebastian some hours later. Afternoon light poured through one of the slitted windows in the old stone tower. They’d carried two cane chairs up to the second level, where they were unlikely to be disturbed, and settled to go over the words Georgina had copied. Above their heads, Mr. Mitra sat with a book, wrapped in several shawls against the chill, and ignoring them and all preparations for the evening’s event.

“I’ve had to be,” Sebastian replied.

Georgina looked at him with tender curiosity. “What did you do about written examinations at school?”

Sebastian grimaced at the memory. “Nothing I could do. I did try to explain to one of the masters, but he just thought I was a shirker.” He shrugged. “I was one of the best on the playing fields, which counts for a lot at school. But everyone soon saw that I was stupid otherwise. Nobly born numbskull was the phrase, I believe.” He hid the hurt and humiliation the label could still rouse.

Georgina put a hand on his arm. “You are not stupid, Sebastian. I forbid you to say that ever again.”

He put his hand over hers, still scarcely believing his luck. “Sometimes I got a younger boy to read bits aloud to me. Told them it was good practice.”

“For what?”

He shrugged again. “Pulpit, parliament, classroom. Didn’t matter. And then I’d go and spout it back to a teacher, show him I knew a bit about his subject.”

“That was very clever of you.”

“I don’t know. It seemed to annoy most of ’em. I expect they would have thrown me out if I hadn’t been a duke’s son and had so many brothers coming along behind me to pay their fees.” Despite the pain of these memories, Sebastian felt an amazing freedom and lightness at saying such things out loud. It was as if Georgina had brought light to a place inside him that had always been shrouded in darkness.

She picked up the page and held it before her. “Try it again.”

Sebastian recited the words she’d read him.

“That’s perfect.” She shook her head, gesturing at the writing. “I could never learn all this so quickly. Indeed, I’m not sure I could do it at all.”

“Of course you could.”

“I don’t know, Sebastian. Joanna used to give me poems to get by heart.” She made a face. “When she was still a governess. I never could manage it. I’m terrible at memorizing.”

“Well, you didn’t need to.” He looked down at the sheet in her hand. “I suppose you’ll be reading to me all our lives.” He couldn’t quite believe that she didn’t despise him for this, despite all she’d said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I shall enjoy it,” Georgina replied.

“You will?”

“Yes. It will be one of our secrets. Husbands and wives should have things only they share.” She gave him an enticing look from under her lashes. “Beyond the bedchamber, I mean.”

He’d been aware of her beside him—her arm occasionally brushing his, the bright beauty of her face, the outline of her body under the folds of her gown. He always was. But at this remark, those sensations intensified. Memories flooded him. He ached to hold her as he had on that bed of bracken, to feel the eagerness of her response to his touch.

“Sebastian?”

His voice thick with desire, he said, “Yes?”

“Tonight, after all this nonsense is over…”

He waited as she seemed to gather courage.

“Will you come to my room?” Georgina murmured.

His pulse leaped. The request was unexpected and wildly enflaming.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “I want you. We’re practically married already.”

“I consider you my wife. I don’t need words from a parson.”