Bound with Passion Page 7

  She opened her eyes to see Trevor standing to her right, and her damnable heart began to race. And then she felt the heat of James to her left, and her pulse redoubled. None of it made any sense—this was an arrangement, nothing more! Helping her friends, nothing more! And yet, it seemed her heart had other notions.

  “You wish to escort me as if this were my debut season? You’re too kind. But I’m an old maid, Lord Mayson.” She snaked her hand through his arm and set it on his forearm. James placed her other hand on his forearm in a similar fashion. When she shivered at the jolt that cracked between them, she exaggerated the moment, attempting to render it meaningless with silly humor. “Well if it isn’t Georgie girl with two of the handsomest men in all of England. I’m all aflutter!”

  “So am I,” Trevor whispered, then cleared his throat. “And you shan’t be an old maid for long, Lady Georgiana.” He smiled, and it was the comforting, familiar smile of their youth—but it was also something so much deeper, something so much more everything.

  She faltered for a moment—damned useless Italian shoes—but she felt James’s hand tighten over hers where it rested on his arm.

  “Are you well?” James asked in a low voice.

  She turned to look at him, expecting to see a casual interest in his eyes, but what she saw made her stomach clench. He meant it; he was genuinely concerned about her welfare. It was off-putting—people who cared expected things; people who cared deeply eventually made demands.

  “I am. Thank you for asking, James.” She lightened her voice and forced herself to lighten her mood. “It’s just these silly shoes.”

  He patted her hand and smiled. She felt instantly relieved that the look of real concern had passed. The three of them walked down the hall until they were standing by the large doors to the drawing room. Evening was beginning to descend, and the room was lit with candles and filled with late summer blooms. Nora adored fresh flowers all year, and Vanessa lived to indulge Nora in all things.

  “Georgie!” Her twin brother Archie saw her first, as always. Lord Archibald Cambury, physician and philanthropist, was standing by the fireplace. The minute he caught sight of her, he was crossing the room with long, confident strides. “You change course like a Barbary wind, Gorgeous Georgie!”

  When Georgie had turned thirteen, she’d demanded that everyone cease calling her Georgie girl at once. Archie had started calling her Gorgeous Georgie the very next morning.

  “Oh, Archie. Do stop with that.”

  “I shall never.” He bowed and kissed her hand formally. “You are divine.”

  She reached up and patted his cheek. “As are you, sweet Archie. Perfectly divine.” He blushed slightly. The glow led her to believe he’d had some sort of assignation this afternoon since she’d last seen him. He appeared to be far more at ease. “Did you enjoy the rest of your day since you left me at Mayfield?”

  He nodded. “I did.” She thought he was going to elaborate on some aspect of his affection for the writer he’d mentioned on their walk earlier in the day, but she should have known that the light in his eyes could spring from several sources. “I’ve heard from Jenner that some of the vaccinations we’ve been working on have proved successful. He may even come for a visit this winter.”

  “Ah, the medical world. You are a saint.”

  “A very selfish saint, if at all. The diseases are crafty little adversaries, and I feel like a bounty hunter as I track them down. I love it, you know that.”

  She did know it. He was dedicated to his work—as only a very lucky few were—not because of family obligation or moral commitment (though both of those were part of his constitution), but because of his pure love of the subject. Her brother had spent his childhood staring at small things: blades of grass, ants, miniscule insects, and the slightly larger insects that ate those ones. It was probably thanks to his fascination with all things microscopic that Georgie had developed a contrasting love of everything large and free—horses, birds, oceans. Unfettered things.

  “You will save us all one day, Archie. Have you inoculated anyone yet? I heard Jenner is having luck with the cowpox instead of the smallpox variolation.”

  His eyes widened at her informed interest. “Yes, he is having luck. But there is so much more to be done. He’s just received a grant from an anonymous donor to pursue his research—”

  Georgie laughed and patted Archie’s upper arm. “I’ve no doubt the anonymous donor bears a striking resemblance to a brilliant blond researcher who continues to hide his light under a bushel in Derbyshire.”

  Archie narrowed his eyes—it was like looking into a mirror. She must appear just as skeptical and stubborn when she did that, as she’d done when she looked at James and Trevor mooning at her in the carriage on the way here. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. Your secret is perfectly safe with me.”

  “Thank you, Georgie.”

  Vanessa turned from where she was speaking animatedly to Anna de Montizon, Nora’s daughter, and caught sight of Georgie in all her feminine splendor. “Georgie!”

  Oh, Mother. Why was it that a woman who heartily defied nearly all social conventions wished her own daughter would abide by them? Vanessa, Nora, and Anna walked to the middle of the room and Georgie did the same, meeting them halfway. They’d all seen one another earlier in the day, but Georgie’s appearance tonight dressed as a proper lady was apparently cause for great pomp.

  “You are fabulous!” her mother declared, reaching up to touch the delicate edge of the peacock feather that was part of her headdress.

  “Thank you, Mother.” She even curtseyed a little. She could do this.

  “Did James make it for you?” Nora asked.

  “It is perfectly wonderful,” Anna added. “I must have one. It’s not quite a hat and it’s not quite a turban. Plus, the color makes your skin look so beautiful.”

  “This is far too much attention on behalf of a bit of fabric,” Georgie said. “But yes, it is some confection of James’s.” She looked from Anna to see said milliner standing right beside her. He was taking on a rather protective air. “Something about me needing to be more feminine or some such nonsense.”

  James nodded his agreement and Nora smiled; Georgie felt instantly better. Whereas her real mother usually made Georgie combative, Miss Nora White, the famous portraitist and her mother’s partner of twenty years—and Georgie’s other mother—always made Georgie feel like she was quite fine exactly the way she was.

  Trevor watched from a small distance as Georgie suffered through all those compliments. She had always despised being the center of attention, and it was only going to get worse when she announced their betrothal. Like tearing off a plaster, Trevor wanted her to make the announcement and be done with it, but he had to trust she would tell her mother any moment now when she found the opportunity.

  “She is lovely, isn’t she?” Sebastian de Montizon was standing to Trevor’s left, watching the women dote on Georgie in her new feminine attire. Trevor turned to look at the handsome Spaniard. They’d become acquainted over the past month, while Sebastian and his wife, Anna, and their friends, the Duke and Duchess of Mandeville, were staying at Camburton Castle.

  “I find Georgie more enchanting every day,” Trevor confessed. “It’s quite unexpected . . . she’s quite unexpected. The future feels suddenly . . . promising.”

  Sebastian took a considering sip of his whisky, keeping his eye on his wife and Georgie. “She’s not going back to Egypt, then? Vanessa will be thrilled.”

  “Well, that remains to be seen. Georgie will be here for a month or so. Perhaps longer.”

  “Perhaps much longer if you have your way, you mean?”

  Trevor tried to get a better read on Sebastian. The man obviously adored his wife; he could barely look away from the vivacious Anna for more than a few seconds at a time. But Trevor had recently suspected Sebastian also had a deep connection to Farleigh and Pia, the Duke and Duchess of Mandeville. The four of them traveled together, lived to
gether, and basically looked as though they planned on spending the rest of their lives together. There wasn’t really a polite way to inquire about an arrangement like theirs, but Trevor was extremely curious. On his own behalf.

  “Shall we go for a ride tomorrow, Lord Mayson?” Sebastian’s voice was provocative. Not seductive exactly, but there was definitely a hint of something covert in his invitation.

  “I—I’ve much to do in the morning with the harvest beginning, but yes, that would be fine.”

  “Very good.” Sebastian dipped his chin slightly, a courtly nod of agreement. If they’d met five years ago, at a time when neither one was spoken for, Trevor couldn’t help but imagine that tomorrow’s ride would have involved an assignation between them.

  “Are you two flirting?” Farleigh was even more outspoken than James, if such a thing were possible.

  “Hello, Farleigh.” Trevor sighed, as if every sentence proved his old friend was as much of a reprobate as ever.

  “Trevor.” Farleigh mimicked the deprecating tone, then smiled. “So, are you?”

  Sebastian looked at Farleigh, and Trevor no longer doubted that the two shared far more than an interest in diplomacy. But it wasn’t a mere tupping arrangement either; if Trevor’s suspicions were correct, they were deeply in love with one another.

  “Were you flirting with me, Sebastian?” Trevor asked bluntly.

  “Indeed. Of course I was,” Sebastian said. “Now that I’m taken—”

  Farleigh practically snorted into his glass at Sebastian’s choice of words.

  Sebastian grinned and continued, “Flirting with you strapping British country gentlemen is my new favorite pastime.” He turned to Farleigh. “Speaking of pastimes, I think Trevor may have some questions.”

  “Questions?” Farleigh cocked a brow.

  “Are you two terrifying the neighbors again?” Pia interrupted. She had peeled away from the hat conversation with James and Georgie, and now entered their group, fitting neatly between Sebastian and Farleigh.

  Farleigh leaned over and kissed her cheek. Sebastian looked like he wanted to.

  “Your grace,” she chided. “We are in company. It is not proper to kiss me in public.”

  “This is not public. This is Camburton Castle, where Lady Vanessa practically demands all these outrageous displays of amor.” He attempted to say the last word in Spanish, but it sounded to Trevor as if he was unable to roll the r at the end.

  “Your accent is deplorable.” Pia winced. “You should keep to your areas of expertise.”

  “But how will I ever learn to master your r’s if I don’t practice?”

  Sebastian burst out laughing, a joyful, uninhibited sound. Trevor had been watching the byplay between husband and wife, as had Sebastian. Yet, while Trevor felt like a cheerful bystander, Sebastian looked like he was very much a part of whatever intimate jests were passing between them.

  Pia turned a pretty pink. “Farleigh.”

  “Yes, darling?” He raised his eyebrow again and took an innocent sip of his drink.

  “Oh, never mind.”

  “Don’t you want me to master your r’s? I could have sworn you asked me to get to work on it only last evening—”

  “Farleigh!” Her cheeks were bright red by then, and her voice was a whispered chastisement.

  “Very well. I’ll not gain complete mastery of your r’s overnight in any case. I’ll need years of practice.”

  “Impossible,” she muttered under her breath—looking extremely vexed—but Trevor thought she appeared to be a very happy woman.

  “Nothing’s impossible, darling. You taught me that.” He kissed her again with gentle tenderness, on her neck this time, and she glanced at the floor with a demure fluttering of her eyelashes. “But enough about my thoughts on your r’s. Sebastian was just telling me that Trevor may have a few questions, and I suspect they are of a personal nature.” Farleigh turned from Pia to Trevor. “Isn’t that right, Mayson?”

  Trevor had known Farleigh for years and always thought him a bit of a buffoon. His numerous affairs with handsome men were, if not legendary, at least well known within the circle of men for whom such knowledge was relevant. It wasn’t a secret society—especially not in Farleigh’s case because he was so flagrant about his proclivities—but Trevor and James and their group of like-minded friends looked out for one another. It always helped to have a network, but Farleigh also had the money and the unflinching moral support of his wealthy, titled mother to do as he pleased.

  It seemed that Trevor, on the other hand, was the latest in a long string—as old as time, perhaps—of sons whose sexual inclinations had proved to be a terrible disappointment to their paters.

  “Oh.” Trevor was suddenly feeling quite awkward about revealing his deepest desires to these relative strangers. “No, it was just a bit of talk and perhaps a ride in the afternoon. Wasn’t it, Sebastian?” Especially in front of the young duchess, Trevor did not want to broach the subject of polygamy. He wanted to excuse himself immediately, now he thought about it.

  Pia looked up and caught his eye. “A personal nature? Oh, I do love things of a personal nature.”

  She really was entirely charming. Whereas the men at her sides were tender and taunting in turn, she was like a sweet angel spreading her wings between them.

  “I’m afraid my British sensibilities are not easily c-cast aside,” Trevor stammered. “The questions I had for Sebastian were quite, well, uh, forward.”

  “Better and better,” she said hopefully. And she could definitely roll her r’s. The way she said better in that throaty, suggestive tone made both of the men at her sides look like they wanted to ravish her.

  Trevor smiled. “Well, better for you perhaps, being of a more open-minded nature. We British are not always at ease sharing our . . . feelings. Especially with charming young duchesses from Spain.”

  “I think it is drawing rooms that are to blame,” she said. “Very confining and ill suited to honest talk.” She looked into Trevor’s eyes, and he felt both exposed and relieved. This woman knew how to live the life she wanted. “So, I will come on the ride as well.”

  “Absolutely not,” both men said simultaneously, all hints of humor banished. “You are with child,” Farleigh added.

  Pia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Exactly. I am going to have a child; I am not infirm. And any child of yours can handle a little pony ride.” Trevor wasn’t certain, but the way she said yours—while her lively eyes took in both men—made it seem as though the baby really did belong to all three of them.

  That thought made something hot and tempting shoot straight to Trevor’s cock. It was unexpected, but no less demanding for being so. He took a quick sip of his drink to cool the strange bolt of desire: the idea of a relationship like that with James and Georgie made him quake with longing.

  “Yes, I see you have questions.” Pia reached out gently to Trevor and let it rest on his forearm. “And you shall have answers. I would be delighted to accompany you and these two rascals tomorrow. Out in the open air, where it always seems much easier to ask all manner of questions, don’t you find?”

  Trevor felt like she was casting a spell over him, an incantation that made it perfectly acceptable for him to reveal the forbidden thing he craved most in the world. He glanced quickly at Georgie and James where they were talking to Nora, Anna, and Vanessa a few yards away. It all seemed suddenly—perfectly—clear. He yearned for both of them, for the three of them to be woven together with a passion that surpassed the consecration of any special license or bishop’s dispensation.

  “Yes,” Trevor said, returning his attention to Pia. “I do believe I will be able to voice my, uh, opinions with far more ease when we are out of doors.”

  “You are doing what?” Vanessa’s voice sliced through the room like a scimitar through silk. James wished he could pull Georgie against his side, but probably best to deal with one traumatic announcement at a time. First, let Vanessa get accustomed
to the fact that Georgie and Trevor would be wed in the very near future. And then, many moons later, perhaps Georgie would grow accustomed to the fact that James and Trevor hoped she would be with both of them in equal partnership forever.

  “I am going to marry Trevor,” Georgie repeated.

  James stood next to her and hoped she could sense his support, even if it he wasn’t allowed to touch her outright.

  “That’s wonderful news, Georgie!” Nora pulled Georgie into a firm hug and whispered something James couldn’t quite make out.

  “How exciting!” Anna chimed in. “First Pia announces she’s having a baby, and then Georgie and Trevor announce their betrothal!” Having spent most of her life in a convent, and after finally reconnecting with her mother, Anna obviously treasured the idea of Nora’s family being her family.

  James could see that Anna was hoping, even now, to foster a sisterly connection with Georgie. “Will you get married here in Derbyshire or in London?” Anna asked.

  Trevor had crossed the room by then, dear boy. He reached possessively around Georgie’s waist and answered, “Mayfield Chapel,” at exactly the same moment Vanessa declared, “St. George’s, Hanover Square.”

  James looked from one to the other, then back to Georgie. He smiled to break the tension and she smiled in return. “Let them fight it out,” he whispered, and she nodded imperceptibly in agreement.

  “Oh, Trevor, you can’t possibly get married in Derbyshire!” Vanessa launched in. “You would never deny me the maternal joy of seeing Georgiana in all her finery, walking down the aisle with Archibald at her side to give her away. A proper wedding.”

  Having known Vanessa Cambury to be an easygoing, open-minded woman for the past five years, James now found her entirely unrecognizable. She was behaving like a lovesick adolescent.

  “Marchioness,” Trevor began carefully. James and Georgie were still smiling as they watched the other two prepare for battle.

  “What would Georgie like?” Nora interjected.

  A silence fell over the room. James reminded himself to make Nora a particularly outrageous hat with four-foot ostrich feathers to extend his thanks.