Cortland had to tell himself that she wasn’t challenging him, she was merely speaking her thoughts aloud. And yet…
There was just the two of them here, other than her friend, who would likely take any of Lady Genevieve’s secrets to her grave. He took a step toward her, and although she didn’t flinch, he noted that she did glance at him warily. “Exactly how much more do you want, my lady?”
He had intended only to provoke her, perhaps tease her a bit, and send her on her way, so it was surprising when she turned the tables and shored her courage in front of his eyes and said, “This.”
She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck and placed her lips firmly on his.
Chapter 3
In all her one and twenty years of life, Genevieve had never acted so boldly. Granted, she had dreamed about acting on her impulses more than once, but her upbringing and her need to act properly for her two younger siblings had always surpassed her desires.
But not tonight. In the midst of this revelry, she had made the decision to release her inhibitions and be… free with the one man she had pined for. The man she had yearned to notice her. Although her actions now might not do much more than annoy him, at least it was better than being ignored completely.
“Argyle, I daresay you ’aven’t joined in the festivities—”
The slurred, masculine voice broke off when he realized that the duke was engaged. Genevieve was placed firmly away from Argyle. Scalding heat rushed to her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and being cast aside so easily with mortification that she had dared to show her emotions so effortlessly.
As the duke spoke to the newcomer, his back to the women, likely to shield them from the other man’s view, Genevieve found the opportunity to slip away. Arietta was wide awake at this point, so Genevieve moved to the settee and grasped her hand. “We need to go,” she whispered urgently.
Etta nodded and jumped up from the cushions as if they were on fire. Since the solitary doorway leading to freedom was blocked, Genevieve had already spied another way out. The window was open, letting in some fresh air, and she hastily rushed toward it, grateful that they were on the lower level of the manor. She wasn’t sure if Etta would balk at lifting her skirts and throwing her leg over the sill in a similar manner, but she was right behind Genevieve as they sprinted across the lawn, hand in hand.
They rushed to the hackney and practically vaulted inside, and Genevieve shouted to the driver, “Go!”
He flicked the reins and they were off.
Etta put a hand to her heart, that was likely pounding as loud as Genevieve’s and said, “Remind me never to engage in any of your plans again, Vivy.”
Genevieve took one glance at her friend, slouched on the other side of the carriage, with her frazzled blonde hair and skirts a bit mussed, and started to chuckle. Etta’s lips reluctantly twitched and they soon burst into giggles that eventually erupted into full out belly laughs. “You have to admit it was an adventure!” Genevieve said when she was finally able to take a breath.
“Indeed. And I’m quite content never to embark on another.”
They fell into another round of laughter, but as their merriment subsided, Genevieve couldn’t resist one last glance at the manor.
As they turned a corner of the long drive, she was able to catch a glimpse of the grandly lit estate. Her breath caught, because she didn’t know if it was just the shadows of the night playing tricks on her, or if there was the silhouette of someone leaning against the railing near the front door.
Either way, she liked to imagine it was the latter, that she had finally caught the attention of the duke and that he would find it difficult to forget her after this night.
She leaned her head back against the squabs and closed her eyes with a dreamy smile on her face.
The duke watched the hackney ramble down the long drive with a scowl on his face. It would be some time before he would forget the maddening Lady Genevieve, and should she decide to grow a conscience and become forthcoming with her actions, he knew where his neck would end up—in the parson’s noose. Even now, he could feel the chains of marriage beginning to tighten around his neck.
It was time for a drink.
He stalked back to the library and slammed the door in annoyance behind him. A pleasurable night had been effectively ruined by the arrival of two society chits searching for a good time. He poured a generous amount of brandy and shook his head. Absolute rubbish.
Although he didn’t begrudge a lady testing her limits, and especially exploring her sexuality, he did find fault with her doing it as his expense. There was no doubt that should he find himself on the way to the altar, his ring would do no good when it came to the Duke of Cranbrook’s blasted granddaughter. He could almost hear the deafening cries of babies in the nursery now.
Shuddering, he sank down into a nearby chair and rubbed at his temples. This was quickly spiraling into a personal nightmare where he didn’t see any good outcome from it. He feared he was well and truly trapped after all, and through no fault of his own.
And that dreadful kiss she’d given him. He groaned at the pure innocence of it. He preferred his women to be experienced in the art of pleasing a man, not some fumbling virgin who blushed at the prospect of disrobing in front of anyone. He also preferred women vastly different from Lady Genevieve—buxom, blonde, and comely. While he begrudgingly admitted that she wasn’t terrible to look at, her hair was dark, almost brown, and her eyes were hazel, just like her grandfather’s.
Abruptly, Cortland’s stomach revolted. Would he picture the Duke of Cranbrook every time they had to lay together? Bile rose in his throat, and he had to swallow several times before it subsided.
He shot to his feet and began to pace the room. He supposed it was settled.
There was nothing he could do but make the same terrible mistake his father had and offer for a woman who was completely unsuited to him. No doubt the affairs would start with Lady Genevieve as soon as the requisite heir was birthed and he would become a cuckhold like his sire, but he couldn’t risk the chance that he would lose membership in the alliance. Unfortunately, he also knew the ring would not be of any use to him this time, considering the lady he wished to escape was the founding duke’s granddaughter.
He abruptly paused. Perhaps he could turn all of this chaos around to his favor. If the Duke of Cranbrook was his in-law, then he would certainly be assured he was never in danger of losing his membership to the Wayward Dukes. He could enjoy life as before, but rest easy knowing that he was always spared from any sort of upheavel from his fellow members. No doubt one of his comrades would be able to placate Genevieve while he ventured out.
