Page 55 of This Earl of Mine

Her mother smiled warmly. “Good evening, Mr. Wylde. How good to see you. I’m afraid Juliet is dancing with Lord Birkenhead at present, but—”

“I was hoping the elder Miss Caversteed might honor me with a dance.”

Mother sent Georgie a look that was part congratulatory, part surprise. “Oh, of course. I’m sure she’d be delighted. Off you go, dear.”

Wylde chuckled as he steered her toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing here?” Georgie whispered. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

“I’m upholding my side of our bargain. You’re paying me to court you publicly. So here we are. Courting. In public.” He sent her an admiring look that nobody watching could fail to interpret, and Georgie cursed the day she’d ever suggested the foolish idea. Yes, they needed to prepare thetonfor an announcement, but she hadn’t envisaged how difficult it would be to pretend to be strangers under society’s ever-watchful gaze.

After this afternoon, they most certainly weren’t strangers. They weren’t precisely friends either, but she wasn’t quite sure how to define their odd relationship. Coconspirators maybe?

Benedict took her hand, and she tried not to think of what those strong, elegant fingers had been doing to her only hours before.

The movement of the dance made conversation difficult, but as they dipped and swirled, Georgie came to the startling realization that her seduction had already begun. Every one of his slight, casual touches seemed choreographed to increase her state of tension. The innocuous graze of his fingers at her waist, the subtle brush of his thigh against hers—all achieved despite maintaining a perfectly decorous distance. The man was a menace.

“Lovely dress,” he murmured politely.

“Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She stumbled, but he caught her effortlessly and righted their steps.

The beast. He loved discomposing her. His piercing gaze seemed to assess her from the inside out, as if he saw into every secret corner of her soul, every womanly, shameful, hot, desirous dream she’d had of him. Georgie wished she’d brought a fan. A dizzying anticipation simmered in her blood. How could anyone miss the heat between them? She felt as if she were glowing with desire, obvious to all, like a beacon, a lighthouse.

As the dance brought them together again, he murmured, “I’ll send a carriage for you at midnight.” She could only nod, tongue-tied by embarrassment and desire.

When the dance ended, he returned her to her mother, bowed quite properly, and took his leave with the parting shot, “Thank you, Miss Caversteed. Until we dance again.”

Mother watched him leave with pursed lips. “Mr. Wylde seems to be showing you marked attention, my love.” She took a sip of ratafia. “There’s no denying he’s a handsome devil, but according to Caroline Cowper, the family’s practically destitute. His father left a passel full of debt. He’s a fortune hunter, you mark my words. Just like all the rest of them. Still, you’re in no danger from him now, are you?” Her silentbecause of your impetuous marriagewas left unsaid.

Georgie stifled a snort. If only she knew. Benedict Wylde was the most dangerous man she’d ever met. He was like a force of nature, a hurricane, a typhoon.

Mother looked at her oddly. “Are you quite well, Georgiana?”

She seized her chance. “Actually, no. I’ve an awful headache. Would you mind if I asked Pieter to drive me home? I’d like to go to bed.”

Mother sent her a sympathetic look and patted her hand. “You poor lamb. I know just what it is to be the victim of a megrim. Go on, dear. After all, it’s Juliet who needs to be seen, not you.”

Georgie sighed at her mother’s unintentional slight. “I’ll send the carriage back for you.”

“Thank you. Oh good! Juliet’s dancing with Ponsonby. He’s third in line to inherit from the Duke of Milford Haven, you know.”

Georgie left her to it. When Pieter delivered her home, she went straight up to her room and paced nervously, pressing her hands over the fluttering in her belly. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced; she looked wild, her cheeks a hectic red, her eyes bright and glistening.

What was she doing? Sleeping with Wylde would undoubtedly change everything between them. It would certainly complicate matters. The thought of making love to him, of giving herself to him fully, was something she both anticipated and dreaded. His very presence made her breathless; he produced a sensation in the region of her stomach that felt like she was taking part in some precarious high-wire balancing act, like that of Madame Saqui at Vauxhall. Like terror, like exhilaration.

Georgie frowned. Affairs of the heart were far more complex than business deals. Would he lose interest in her once he’d had her? She’d heard that was true with many men. But all adventures involved an element of risk, did they not? What would have happened if Columbus had stayed in Spain, or Marco Polo had never ventured from Italy, too afraid of the unknown to risk setting sail? She was no coward. She wouldn’t back out now. This would be an adventure she chose for herself.

Mother and Juliet returned just after eleven, but neither came in to check on her, and by the time she slippeddown to the kitchen and out the back door, the house was quiet and still. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Pieter’s large frame loomed out of the stables.

“And where do you think you’re off to, missy?”

Georgie clapped her hand over her heart. “Pieter! You scared me half to death!”

“Thought you were feeling under the weather?”

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