Despite his less than perfect equilibrium, Ashdowne easily obtained entry, his stealth second nature as he stepped through long windows into the bedroom. It was small, and she did not share it with her sisters, a fact he had made it his business to find out before this evening and for which he was infinitely grateful. For a long moment, he simply stood there watching her sleep, bathed in moonlight, her blond curls spread upon her pillow, one pale hand resting beside them.
Being Georgiana, she did not awaken slowly to rub her eyes and yawn. Instead, her lashes lifted, and she looked directly at him with intelligence all the more startling for its package. He saw a flicker of alarm pass across her lovely features before she sat up, pulling a blanket to her chest.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded in a whisper.
“Oh, we depraved criminals have our ways,” Ashdowne said from his position in the shadows. She blinked at him, and he wondered if she was sleepier than she looked. And suddenly the wonder that had filled him at the sight of her turned to something else. Her locks were tousled, her cheeks pink, and he could just imagine the warmth of her skin. He took a step forward.
“Don’t come any closer!” she warned, holding up one hand while clutching the bedding with another. It served as poor covering, for he could see the lacy bodice of her nightgown and his desire became as a living thing, fierce and undeniable.
“I can change,” he whispered, moving to the side of the bed.
“What?” she asked, her expression dazed.
“I have changed, Georgiana, but I can change more.” He sat down beside her, and the delicate waft of her scent was nearly his undoing. While he still could think, he bent over her, trapping her delectable form between his outstretched arms. “And to prove it to you, I’m going to return the necklace,” he whispered.
“Don’t!” she cried. “I mean, yes, do return it. That is a wonderful idea, but don’t come any closer to me because then I can’t think.”
“Good,” Ashdowne answered, the word holding a wealth of meanings. “I want you to stop thinking and simply feel. I want Georgiana, the incurable romantic tonight, not the hardheaded investigator. Give me another chance, Georgiana. Please.” His plea was barely a whisper as he leaned forward, and whatever answer she might have made was lost when he took her mouth with his own.
She tasted drowsy and sweet and heavenly, and Ashdowne deepened the kiss, taking all that she would give him. Needy, desperate, begging for more, he hardly recognized himself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when he felt the tentative touch of her tongue, innocent yet eager, and growing bolder as it entwined with his.
Her arms came up to enfold him, and Ashdowne lay down beside her, unwilling to pause even to remove his boots. He was well aware that at any moment she might come to her senses, but in the meantime he would revel in her passion. It rose like a tide, and when she arched upward to press herself against him, Ashdowne jerked away the blanket that stood between them.
Her nightgown was a frilly white concoction that reflected her mother’s taste, and he could well imagine her in simple silk instead, but the lacy bodice caressed Georgiana’s creamy skin along her abundant curves, and through the thin material, he saw the dark outline of her nipples. Ashdowne felt the blood rush to his head, then downward, in a great, dizzying spiral. He remembered the episode in the baths and gritted his teeth.
Those stolen moments seemed to have occurred aeons ago, in a time of delight and surprise when he hadn’t been in the grips of such desperation. When he hadn’t been in love. The thought acted as a douse of cold water on his careening senses, and Ashdowne struggled to rein in his rampant lust. He loved her, and for once, he wasn’t going to be selfish.
Where he found the strength, Ashdowne would never know, but for a long while he simply looked at her, then he stroked her beautiful body, his hands working over the material of her gown, playing with it, using it to heighten her pleasure until she was breathless and panting. And then, finally, he stripped it from her and began all over again, learning her body as he would a lock whose secrets he must discover slowly and carefully.
But Georgiana was not content to lie prone, and she tugged at his coat until he removed it and his waistcoat and his shirt. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he yanked off his boots, only to find her draped over his back, her bounteous breasts pressed against him, and his head fell backward on a groan. Apparently encouraged by the sound, she rubbed against him, making little purring noises while she kissed the back of his neck and nipped at his shoulders.
His erection straining painfully at his breeches, Ashdowne turned and tossed her onto the bed, climbing after her in a moment’s weakness. And seeing her lying there all pink and tousled, her legs parted to reveal a tantalizing thatch of blond curls, was almost too much for him. He hesitated a moment, drawing on resources he didn’t know existed, before picking up the foot nearest him and licking her toes.
By the time Ashdowne reached the tender skin at the very top of her inner thigh, she was whimpering, and he was smiling when he finally kissed her moist heat, tasting her sweetness, reveling in her essence. Being Georgiana, she didn’t squawk or protest, but opened her mind and her legs to his unique explorations until she was tearing his hair out of his head in her enthusiasm.
When she bucked and cried out her pleasure, Ashdowne gently untangled her fingers from his strained locks and gazed down at the panting woman before him, the very picture of sated bliss. And he knew it would be so easy to finish what he had started, to indulge his own need for release by spilling his seed inside her.
By taking her maidenhead, perhaps even getting her with child, he could bind her to him, and the temptation was so great that Ashdowne shuddered with the force of it. But that kind of behavior would be the careless, heedless, easy way, and his developing scruples told him that way would be wrong. And, in truth, Ashdowne wanted more. He wanted all of her, not just the passion he could rouse in her body, but her clever mind and her romantic heart. He wanted her to love him, and so he drew a deep breath and rose from the bed.
His erection was so painful that he stifled a groan when he bent to pull on his boots. He had been too long in his monkish existence as marquis, buried at the family seat. He had always loved beautiful things, including women, and though he had chosen his lovers with a discerning eye, he could no longer remember their faces. Now only one face came to mind, one soft body taunted him with the memory of pale skin and soft curves. Ashdowne grimaced, his arousal making the task of getting dressed an odd business and he grunted as he bent over Georgiana, kissing her dampened forehead in farewell.
Scruples were a lot more painful than he had ever imagined.
Georgiana stood in the Pump Room, unsure what to believe. After Ashdowne’s appearance in her bedroom last night, she had been ready to forgive him anything, but a restless dawn had brought the gradual return of her wits and now she wondered. Was he really capable of changing, or was he just trying to distract her from his guilt and betrayal? Worse yet, had he been trying to win her over for more nefarious reasons?
Georgiana knew she couldn’t really turn him in to the Bow Street Runner, even though she felt a hollow sense of disappointment that the case she had worked so hard to solve would remained unexplained. All her dreams of glory were gone, but they no longer seemed so important now, after what had happened with Ashdowne. Maybe he was right, she thought dismally, and she was more romantic than pragmatic, after all.
Heaving a mighty sigh, Georgiana thought it hardly fitting that someone who devoted her life to the investigation and uncovering of wrongdoing should fall in love with a criminal, and yet hadn’t she often marveled about her worthy opponent? At last, she had found someone clever enough to be her match, but could he put his past behind him? Could she?
Georgiana was just as confused as she had been after waking from a few hours of restless sleep, and she would rather have remained in her room trying to sort out her situation, but her family had insisted that she join them in a morning visit to the Pump Room. Although tempted to plead a headache, she was wary of even the smallest lie, and so agreed reluctantly.
At the best of times, Georgiana was not enthusiastic about socializing, so today she kept to herself even more than usual. For once, she didn’t have the slightest interest in the conversations going on around her, and as for Ashdowne…she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him.
Lost in the dismals, Georgiana didn’t notice the approach of an elegantly dressed woman until she heard the soft clearing of a feminine throat. She turned only to blink at the sight of the marchioness of Ashdowne. “My lady!” she said in surprise.
“Please call me Anne,” Ashdowne’s sister-in-law said as she reached for Georgiana’s hand. “I have heard so much about you that I feel we are old friends.”
Georgiana blinked again. “You’ve heard about me?” she asked, amazed.
Anne’s delicate mouth curved into a beautiful smile. “Oh, yes, of course! According to Johnathon you are the most intelligent and clever and beautiful and brave of women!”
Georgiana gaped. She could imagine Ashdowne muttering imprecations about her, but extolling her virtues? And to this paragon of femininity?
Anne sighed, and continued, “I must admit to being a bit envious at first, for I fear that I am sorely lacking in all those attributes. But just hearing about you has made me vow to be more courageous.”
Georgiana felt her mouth drop open. The woman responsible for her fierce bout of jealousy was striving to be more like her?
“Yes, I know it is presumptuous of me,” Anne said, obviously misinterpreting her reaction, “but I feel as if you have given me strength.” She leaned close. “You see I came to Bath on a mission. However, Johnathon so intimidates me that I have failed in it! Oh, I have tried often to tell him my news, but every time I think I shall succeed, my heart quails,” she said, a hand to her throat.
The gesture made Georgiana see how Ashdowne might react to his sister-in-law, for he was too arrogant and blunt for such theatrics. Yet, Anne was so sweet that Georgiana reined in her own impatience. “I’m sure Ashdowne would never scold you,” she said.
“Oh, he doesn’t scold exactly, but he gets that look upon his face as if he can hardly bear the sight of me,” Anne confided.
“No! I’m sure that isn’t true,” Georgiana protested.
“Oh, you are too kind, as I knew you would be. May I be so bold as to confide in you?” At Georgiana’s nod, Anne leaned close once more. “You see, I have come to know a gentleman,” she said, a gentle blush tinting her cheeks as she cast her eyes downward. “I met him during my ill-fated visit to London, the only good to come of that dreadful trip, I assure you. But he is wonderful, and he has asked me to become his wife!”
Georgiana blinked. Her jealousy now seemed doubly foolish, for not only were Anne and Ashdowne totally incompatible, but Anne’s feelings were engaged elsewhere. What a goose she had been! Smiling with genuine pleasure, she squeezed Anne’s gloved hand. “This is wonderful news!”
“Yes,” Anne agreed, blushing again. “However, since Johnathon is now the head of the family, I feel that I must gain his permission, and I fear that he will not approve as the gentleman in question is not of a similar rank.”
Georgiana felt a momentary qualm. Had Anne fallen for someone unsuitable, just as she had done?
“Oh, he is of genteel birth, and he is devoted to me,” Anne said, obviously noticing her concern, “but my dear William, God rest his soul, would never have approved, for Mr. Dawson is in trade, you see.”
A tradesman? Georgiana wondered.
“As one of the many younger sons of Viscount Salsbury, he had no title and no expectations, and so he went into speculation and made a fortune in the production of agricultural implements. Not quite the thing, the ton would say, but he is the most kind and gentle of men and I…I…” Her words trailed off as she flushed once more.
Glancing up to see Ashdowne approaching, Georgiana felt her own blush rising, for he had said not a word to her since doing all those extraordinary things to her in her bed. And she was fairly sure that he had left her room unsatisfied, another question that had kept her tossing and turning, and one which she could hardly put to him now.
All her mixed emotions concerning this man who had so lied to her rushed to the fore, unresolved, but for Anne’s sake, she knew she must put her own feelings aside for the moment. With grim determination, she stepped forward to intercept him, tugging on his sleeve to pull him close. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, smiling up at him. “Anne is getting married!”
Ashdowne, who looked startled enough by Georgiana’s greeting, now swung his rather intimidating gaze toward his sister-in-law, who immediately looked down at her toes, as if afraid to speak.
“Mr. Dawson is the younger son of Viscount Salsbury,” Georgiana explained. “And rich as a nabob!”
Anne glanced up at that, her sensibilities no doubt offended by the bluntness of the remark, but Georgiana continued blithely. “Naturally, you will approve, won’t you, of giving Anne away?” Georgiana asked, pinching him through his coat sleeve.
“What? Uh, yes, of course!” Ashdowne said. He looked wary and wan and unhappy, and Georgiana wondered if the man she had thought impervious to everything had somehow been hurt. By her? The notion gave her a funny feeling deep inside, where she was already being affected by his mere presence.
“You mean, you will give us your blessing?” Anne asked, her expression sweetly hopeful.
“Certainly,” Ashdowne answered. “I have no objections to the match.”
For a moment Anne was silent, then she bit her lip in a nervous gesture. “He is in trade,” she said in a forthright manner that Georgiana could only admire.
“I’m sure Ashdowne won’t care, being a younger brother himself and having to earn his living as…best he could,” Georgiana said, garnering a dark look from her companion. “Unless, of course, it bothers you,” she added, turning once more to Anne.
Her face flushed, Ashdowne’s sister-in-law lifted her dark gaze to Georgiana, her lovely face somber. “No. You see, I am very proud of him,” she said.
The soft but sure affirmation from a woman who admitted to her own temerity struck Georgiana quite forcefully, as if Anne were somehow more courageous than herself. She not only believed in the man she loved, but stood up for him, and suddenly Georgiana’s feelings for Ashdowne returned in a rush, becoming all mixed up in Anne’s testimonial.
Maybe she had been a self-righteous prig to pass judgment on Ashdowne’s deeds when deep down inside she felt a certain reluctant admiration for his cleverness and skills and daring. Not many men could have accomplished such feats, Georgiana reminded herself. No one else had ever come close to such a career, while managing to elude everyone—except herself.
“And he’s going to pay my debt,” Anne murmured, drawing Georgiana from her thoughts.
“Really, Anne, there’s no need for—” Ashdowne began.
“No. The loss was due to my own folly, and I won’t have you responsible for it. Dear Mr. Dawson says it is the least he can do since my visit to London brought me into his life.”
“Very well,” Ashdowne said, slanting Georgiana a glance, and she suspected he wanted to speak to her privately. Had he already returned the necklace? If not, he could do so now, without even taking a loss, and she knew a burgeoning sense of euphoria that belied all her doubts about him.
“Georgie!” The great boom of her father’s voice made Georgiana wince, for she was not in the mood for his good-natured teasing, especially when it probably would involve Ashdowne. And sure enough, his next words were a hearty greeting to the marquis.
“Lord Ashdowne! Why, we haven’t seen you since Georgie returned. Thought you’d abandoned us,” he said, winking at the man in a manner that made Georgiana want to flee. Unfortunately, she saw no escape, for her mother was not far behind, with her giggly sisters in tow, while Anne stood waiting for an introduction.
Georgiana was just wondering how the morning could turn any worse when she spotted Jeffries heading toward them with a grim expression. What now? she wondered, glancing furtively at Ashdowne. His blue eyes flickered in warning before he donned his usual posture of cool, collected nobleman, and, for his sake, Georgiana tried to remain calm. However, she knew he had no idea that she had once tendered his name as a suspect to the Bow Street Runner. And now was probably not a good time to tell him.
“My lord, Miss Bellewether, ladies,” Jeffries said. He nodded his head in a gesture of respect, but he was unusually somber, and for the first time, he looked as if he might actually be qualified for his position. Georgiana felt a shiver of foreboding dance up her spine, but she lifted her chin, determined to reveal nothing of what she knew.
Ashdowne might be a criminal, but she would never send him to the gallows. Never. Although the pain of his lies still lingered, his explanation yesterday had not left her unaffected, and last night…Georgiana’s body hummed with the memory of his touch, of caresses that she, even in her innocence, sensed had been more than a ploy.
Ashdowne was right. The past was over; it was time to look to the future. And in that moment, Georgiana knew that no matter what he had done, she still loved him, and every experience that had made him the man he was now contributed to that love. She tried to still her telltale trembling at the nearly overwhelming rush of emotion that came with the realization, for she knew that she needed to keep her wits about her while Jeffries stood before them.
“If I could have a word with you in private, my lord,” the Bow Street Runner said to Ashdowne, his tone ominous.
“As you can see, I am engaged at the moment,” the marquis replied, with just a hint of hauteur that Georgiana had to admire.
“I’m afraid it can’t wait, my lord,” Jeffries mumbled. He looked chagrined, and Georgiana took heart. The Bow Street Runner couldn’t possibly be convinced of Ashdowne’s guilt, or he wouldn’t look so apologetic, would he? Had Ashdowne had a chance to return the necklace yet? Georgiana wondered again. If so, then Jeffries’s suspicions didn’t matter, but if not…
“Well, then, say what you will,” Ashdowne replied. “I’m sure I have no secrets from this company, especially the lovely Miss Bellewether.” Only Georgiana caught the slight inflection in his tone that spoke to her alone, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at his bold gesture.
“Very well, then,” Jeffries said, looking unhappy. “Some questions have been raised, my lord. And, uh, well, it seems that I must ask you exactly where you were during the time of the theft.”
Georgiana started in surprise. Why would the Bow Street Runner suddenly turn his attention to Ashdowne when he had dismissed the marquis in the past? As gasps rose from those who surrounded them, she sent a horrified glance toward Ashdowne, but he evidenced no alarm, only a certain arrogant amusement.
“Really, Jeffries, haven’t you got something better to do with your time?” he drawled, one dark brow lifted.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but it has been brought to my attention that you are one of the few gentleman at the party whose whereabouts I can’t account for. So if you will just be so kind as to inform me of them, then I’ll be on my way,” Jeffries said.
Although Georgiana sensed that the Bow Street Runner was hopeful of that very outcome, he seemed determined to stick to his guns, and she felt a shiver of panic run up her spine.
“Well, if you must know, I was in the garden enjoying a breath of evening air,” Ashdowne said with an air of dismissal.
Jeffries’s face hardened into a dour but determined expression. “And might there be anyone who could verify that, my lord?”
Ashdowne smiled slightly. “Yes, of course.”
“And who might that be?”
Ashdowne eyed the Bow Street Runner with a show of affront. “You really can’t expect me to say, Jeffries, for a lady is involved, and I consider myself a gentleman, despite our visit to the garden.”
Georgiana was aware of her father’s snort of laughter, followed by the nervous giggles of her sisters, while beside her Anne was wide-eyed, pale and dumbstruck. Obviously Ashdowne was hoping to dismiss the Bow Street Runner’s insinuation, but Georgiana sensed that Jeffries was not going to be fobbed off so easily.
And before she had even formed the idea in her mind, she stepped forward. “This is really all unnecessary, Mr. Jeffries,” she said. He swung toward her with a tired look that warned her not to expound upon her theories, and so she did not. Drawing in a sharp breath, she lifted her chin, intent upon her course. “I was the one with his lordship in the garden. I can vouch for his whereabouts all during the time in question, for he was with me.”
Every eye in the vicinity turned to stare at her, and Georgiana heard her mother’s horrified gasp as the poor woman swooned into her startled father’s arms. Her sisters giggled, Anne blanched, and Jeffries appeared only slightly mollified. Since she had once mentioned Ashdowne as a suspect, the Bow Street Runner probably wondered why she had done so, especially after trysting with him during the theft.
Well, let him wonder, Georgiana thought, for no one but Ashdowne could dispute her claim, and he…she glanced at him, fearful for a moment that he might do just that, yet when she met his gaze, all her fears fled. He was looking at her with a kind of dazed wonder, along with something else that made her heart swell with happiness.
Then he turned toward Jeffries. “I hardly think you a gentleman to bully my fiancée into speech, but I trust you are satisfied now?” he asked, one dark brow lifted.
“Yes, of course, my lord,” the Bow Street Runner mumbled. “My apologies, and, uh, congratulations,” he added with a grin.
“Thank you,” Ashdowne said. “Well, I can see that my secret is no longer safe,” he said, with a glance of tender regard toward Georgiana. He reached for her hand and, taking her gloved fingers in her own, faced her parents. Her distraught mother, who was being fanned by both of her sisters, was still supported by her bewildered-looking father, and all of them stared at Ashdowne.
“I fear the situation has forced us to reveal our plans earlier than intended, and I apologize for not speaking with you first about the matter, Mr. Bellewether, but I would accept your best wishes for my upcoming nuptials,” Ashdowne said. Lifting their entwined hands, he swung round, his deep voice rising over the murmuring voices of the crowd. “Miss Bellewether and I are to be married.”
Her mother, having just been revived by Eustacia and Araminta, swooned once more, while her sisters’ mouths gaped open, and Anne smiled beatifically. For her part, Georgiana, stunned speechless by the announcement, could only blink stupidly as congratulations erupted all around them.