Georgiana’s lips parted slightly, and for one dangerous moment, James imagined closing the distance entirely, discovering if her mouth was as soft as her hands. He did not think it was his imagination that she trembled slightly in his arms. Did she feel it too? This overwhelming longing to stay this way forever?
“No, no.” Lefevre’s voice shattered the moment. “This is not the quadrille anymore. You have invented your own dance, I see. Very romantic, but the London mothers will gossip, non?”
They stepped apart quickly, but not quickly enough. James’s skin felt too tight, his pulse too loud. Georgiana’s cheeks had turned even pinker.
“Again,” Lefevre commanded, clapping sharply. “And this time, remember, you are practicing for all those London beauties, Lord Ashford. All the eligible, accomplished ladies who will want their turn in your arms.”
James caught Georgiana’s gaze. This was supposed to make London bearable. Assure himself that he would not make a fool of himself. Instead, it was making the thought of dancing with anyone else unbearable. He did not want accomplished ladies and their matchmaking mothers. He wanted only Georgie.
“Shall we?” Georgiana extended her hand again, gazing into his eyes. “You mustn’t despair. It will grow easier.”
“If we must.” He took her hand again. How perfectly it fit in his.
But when the dance brought them together again, when her fingers tightened just slightly around his, he felt almost certain she shared his yearning. Could it be possible that Georgiana Fairfax was his perfect match? His love match?
Please, he prayed silently. Make it so.
Chapter Fourteen
Georgiana
Rain lashed againstthe tall windows of the drawing room, turning the late afternoon into a watercolor wash of gray and silver. Georgiana sat at the long oak table, fabric swatches and wallpaper samples fanned out before her like a deck of oversized playing cards. The storm had crept in with little warning, a moody spring tempest that rattled the panes and hissed along the eaves. But she found she didn’t mind. Not in the haven of the drawing room.
She reached for a swatch of velvet in a soft blush shade, running her fingertips over its nap. Not right for the library, but perhaps one of the bedrooms? Her mind wandered to James’s chambers. He’d told her how good it felt to sleep in what felt like his first real bed since he and his siblings were sent away. The thought of him in any bed at all sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.
Stop it, she chided herself.He’s your employer. Nothing more.
But the way he’d held her in his arms? It had felt like more. A great deal more.
The fire behind her crackled softly, offering warmth against the chill. Mrs. Ellsworth had brought her a fortifying pot of tea, which had sat untouched. Now, though, as the thunder rumbled in the distance, she abandoned her samples, poured a cup of tea and wandered over to a chair by the fire. She’d chosenMuch Ado About Nothingto read in preparation for James’s ball. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyedthis particular play. Beatrice and Benedick, forever sparring, forever denying what everyone else could see, intrigued her in a way it hadn’t before now. She didn’t want to examine that too carefully but she knew why. Even if she would never admit it to anyone but herself.
She’d just settled in, opening the play to the first page, when the door creaked open.
“Georgie, good afternoon,” James said, his voice like warm honey.
Her pulse jumped. She looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, rain-damp hair curling at his collar. He’d changed into a dark waistcoat and open shirt, no cravat in sight. The casual disarray made him look younger. Dangerous.
“Have you been out in this weather?” She aimed for lightness.
He pushed off the doorframe and approached. “I had to go into the village to meet with a few of the local businessmen. Rain was coming down hard by the time I left.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Georgiana asked. “I’m having one and reading an old friend.” She held up the play to show him.
“Actually, I could use a brandy to ward off the chill.” He poured himself a drink from the decanter on one of the side tables and then dropped into the chair across from her, long legs stretched toward the fire. His eyes fell to the book in her lap. “I think that is my favorite of his comedies.”
“I share your opinion. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this one.”
“One of the best couples ever written, in my humble opinion,” James said. “I once spent time with an actress who played Beatrice.”
“Time?” She laughed, knowing exactly what he meant.
He chuckled. “My reputation as a rogue is not without merit.”
“I shall put all thoughts of that part of your life aside,” Georgiana said.
“She used to use me to help her memorize her lines. I fancied myself quite the actor.”
“No, really? I must hear you.”
