That made Georgiana laugh. The sound struck him low in his chest.
“I must say,” Georgiana shifted to face him fully, “I never thought I’d find myself plotting with a lord to contain my own mother.”
“Yes, it is rather unusual. But we must approach it as an adventure,” James said.
She didn’t look away, and James felt his breath catch despite himself. He found himself cataloging details he’d never consciously noticed before—the precise shade of her eyes in firelight, the small scar at the edge of her jaw, how her fingers absently traced the arm of her chair. Each observation felt dangerous, like stepping onto untested ice.
Cecily yawned and stretched, rising from the settee. “I’m going tobed. I have to be up early. Mrs. Ellsworth asked if I’d help interview a gardener. Good night to both of you and thank you for a most enjoyable evening.” She paused in the doorway and added with a sly grin, “Who knew this job would be so much fun?”
When she was gone, silence settled in the room, softened by the crackle of the fire and the subtle scent of smoke. The room seemed smaller suddenly, more intimate without Cecily’s bright presence.
Georgiana stood, smoothing her skirts. “You did well tonight, Lord Ashford.”
“You’re not going to call me that any longer,” James said. “I have begun to call you Georgie, as Cecily does. Which means, you should call me James.”
“I suppose we are conspirators, which gives us an intimacy of sorts.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Firelight made shadows dance across the hollow of her throat. “I don’t feel like Lord Ashford anyway. I’m James and I always will be.”
“But you’re meant for greatness,” Georgiana said huskily. “You’re kind and compassionate and thoughtful. All qualities of a true gentleman.”
“Why, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.” He looked away, embarrassed by her compliments, yet pleased too.
“I should retire as well,” Georgiana said. “Tomorrow will be here before we know it.”
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“Good night, James.” She flushed, tugging at her ear. “It might take time to grow accustomed to calling you James.”
“You’ll think of me as James soon enough.” He smiled back at her. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”
As she moved toward the doorway, her glove slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor. They both reached for it at the same time, James taking an instinctive step forward. Their hands met overthe scrap of fabric, his fingers closing over hers for just a heartbeat. The contact sent heat racing up his arm, and he felt her slight intake of breath.
He straightened slowly, the glove in his palm, acutely aware of how close they stood. Close enough that he could see the flecks of silver in her eyes, close enough to catch the faint scent of rosewater in her hair.
“James,” she said again, softer this time. “Yes, that sounded better, did it not?”
“Indeed.” In fact, the sound of it nearly undid him. His pulse hammered in his throat, and every instinct urged him to close the remaining distance between them, to discover if her lips were as soft as they looked. The urge was so powerful it took all his willpower to step back, to place the glove carefully in her outstretched palm without allowing their skin to touch again.
“Good night, Georgie.”
She lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, as if she too were reluctant to break whatever spell had settled over them. Then she nodded and disappeared into the hallway, leaving him alone with the dying fire and the thundering of his own heart.
James clenched his hands at his sides, fighting the urge to follow her, to call her back. The sweet scent of rosewater still lingered in the air, and he closed his eyes, breathing it in like a man starved.
For the first time, he wished desperately that the manor required more work than it actually did, that he could find some excuse to keep her here indefinitely. But he knew that was impossible. Someday—too soon—he would have to say goodbye for good.
The realization stole the air from his lungs and left him hollow and aching. Her disappearing from his life wouldn’t just break his heart. It might destroy him entirely.
This was a most unwelcome discovery.
Chapter Ten
Georgiana
Two days aftershe’d agreed to help plan the ball, Lavinia swept into the drawing room as if arriving on stage, her green satin sash trailing behind her. In her gloved hands, she carried a thick notebook bound in marbled paper, which she laid ceremoniously on the center table between them.
James, Cecily, and Georgiana had been poring over the plans for the library’s restoration when she arrived. Without warning. Georgiana’s heart sank. She’d hoped they’d have a little more time without her presence, figuring it would take some time to plan a ball. However, as usual, she’d underestimated her mother’s desire for attention.
