Bound with Passion Read online

  “Interesting. I never knew my parents, so I am profoundly jealous of other people’s childhoods.” Pia shared a few brief details of her life as a ward of the convent in Spain; even though it must have been terribly grim, she described everything with a passive acceptance Trevor found unusual. Not that she had enjoyed the cold and the deprivations, she said, but she didn’t resent the circumstances either.

  “You have a wonderful way of looking at the world.”

  “Gratitude is a potent weapon.” She glanced across the table when Farleigh laughed at something Georgie said. “It can smite all sorts of ill feelings—toward others and toward ourselves.” She looked meaningfully at Georgie again. “Some people are given so much from such a young age, they begin to wonder if they will ever do anything to have earned it.” She turned back at Trevor, and he remembered how that very thought had plagued him his last years at Cambridge and during the year he’d spent in London. A subtle sense of worthlessness had crept into him over those years.

  “If I didn’t have my land and the tenants and the life that revolves around the farm and the seasons, I could easily see how I would slip into just such self-loathing.”

  “So why do you find it perplexing in others?”

  He let a grin spread across his face. “Not so perplexing after all, I suppose.”

  She nodded. “We will have much to discuss on our ride tomorrow.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t think anyone’s life is perfect, but the life we four have constructed is bursting with love. I wish that for you.”

  Trevor stared at the beautiful gold-rimmed plate and the cut-crystal parfait dish that now sat empty in front of him. They’d all finished dessert and the footmen had yet to clear. The silver candelabras were polished to a shimmering gleam. Suddenly, his whole world seemed far too small for Lady Georgiana Cambury. She needed space around her, adventure—things he would never be able to provide, even with all the gold his father had to give. Even in a million years.

  “All will be well.” Pia’s voice soothed him. “You look far too sad for such a beautiful night spent among like-minded friends.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” He raised his glass. “To like-minded friends.” She touched his glass with hers, her dark brown eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you these past few weeks, Pia.” He reached for her hand and gave her a quick, courtly kiss on her knuckles. She laughed delightedly and Farleigh growled from the other side of the table.

  “If you please, Mayson. Hands off my wife.”

  Trevor released her hand and smiled good-naturedly at the duke. “Very well, Farleigh.” Then he turned and spoke quietly to Pia. “Do you ever resent his possessiveness?”

  Her head turned slightly, and she narrowed her eyes. “Resent? How could I resent one of the most loving and generous people in my life? Yes, he is demanding, but the rewards are great. It would be like resenting one’s own child.”

  Trevor raised an eyebrow. “I’d venture that’s been known to happen.” He regretted it as soon as he said it. Pia looked like the words had punched her in the gut.

  “I will pray this night for people who resent their own children.”

  Thinking of his father, alone and bitter in his splendid mansion in Mayfair, Trevor pictured this Spanish woman’s prayers rising through the atmosphere, circling around the globe in search of souls to soothe, and landing on the east side of Grosvenor Square. They would need to be powerful prayers indeed to penetrate the hard shell of acrimony with which his father had fortified that home in recent months. “I hope your prayers are answered. For all of our sakes.”

  “We never know the path to our own happiness. I never thought I would be living in England, much less sitting in one of its grandest homes. The idea of being a duchess never even crossed my mind. I thought I was a twig on the river of circumstance, but one or two times I have reached for a passing chance—and held fast. I was greatly rewarded. One should at least reach for a chance, Lord Mayson, don’t you think?”

  “I do. But our origins couldn’t be further from one another. Whereas you grabbed at a chance to be plucked from a shadowy life in a remote convent, I have had every privilege. Georgie—” His voice caught. Damn James and his imagination. Trevor could barely speak her name without wondering—wishing—for a future, or a chance at it. “When I wish for things, I feel like an ingrate, peevishly dissatisfied with all the riches and bounty that have already been heaped upon me.”

  “Then do it for her,” Pia said softly, with the slightest tilt of her head in Georgie’s direction. “If you are worried your motives are self-serving, then at least be certain they will also serve to felicitate the souls of others.”

  “You are wise, Duchess.”

  She laughed lightly. “Far from it. I am selfish like you, but I always make sure to include the happiness of others in my supplications to the Lord. Thus far it seems to have worked in my favor.”

  James had enjoyed speaking with Anna throughout dinner. They’d covered everything from the latest Turkish turbans to the recent political skirmishes in her home country of Spain. But they’d finished dessert, and it was difficult for James to feign patience when all he wanted to do was toss Trevor into the closed carriage and make love to him. Georgie could hang, with her never in a million years and her self-deceiving ways.

  He was not usually one to fidget, but he must have shifted in his chair.

  “You are quite finished, I see,” Anna said.

  She was as direct as anyone he’d ever met, and there was no point in pretending he wished to linger. “I believe Trevor is experiencing . . . something . . . and I wish to comfort him.”

  “He’s fallen in love with Georgie, you say?”

  James whipped his head around to face Anna squarely. “No. I didn’t say. But of course that’s what I meant, you perceptive witch. Do you always say whatever pops into your head?”

  She shrugged. “Much of the time. Perhaps it’s from my father’s side of the family; I see something similar in Georgie. Neither one of us takes after Vanessa or Nora, obviously. People say I am the image of my father.”

  “I’ve only seen portraits of Dennis Cambury, but I’d say people are right.”

  “So perhaps there is a willful streak that runs through the Cambury blood.” She gestured vaguely around the grand dining room, one of the finest in all of Europe. “Obviously my father’s ancestors liked to aim high.”

  James looked up at the ornate ceiling and across the table to the lush scarlet silk wall coverings. “You may be right. Where there’s a will, is that it?” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Georgie’s will and Trevor’s are quite aligned at present.”

  “Perhaps.” She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps not. I suggest, if I may be so bold, that you speak to my husband about how he finally wore down my resistance, how I came to fall in love with him, against all my best intentions to the contrary.”

  James slapped his thigh and hooted. Nora and Vanessa turned to see what had him so amused, but he merely dipped his chin and apologized. After their attention had turned away from him again, he looked at Anna and quietly said, “That was the very thing I said to Trevor.”

  “What’s that?” Anna asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

  “That if he— All right, if we—”

  She smiled knowingly.

  “If we are ever to win Georgie’s heart,” he continued in a low voice that only she could hear, “it has to be done forcefully yet subtly.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that very much.”

  “So do I,” James agreed, then turned serious. “So did I. She keeps saying she’s not game. At all. But I see it in her eyes . . . I feel it when she rests her hand on my forearm.”

  Anna looked at him tenderly. “My heart and my mind were at odds for quite some time after I married Sebastian. I am forever grateful he wore down my defenses.”

  About an hour later, after they’d spent time in the drawing ro
om, Georgie declared she could no longer sit still knowing the horses hadn’t seen her for nigh on five hours. Trevor and James rose immediately, bidding their good-byes, and the three of them left Camburton Castle.

  When the footman had shut the carriage door and they were finally alone, Georgie spoke first. She touched her fingertips to the turban-like hat that James had made for her, looking every inch the shallow aristocrat. “Sebastian and Farleigh were charming. The whole evening was charming. Even this damned hat is charming.” She let her hand go back to her lap. “But now we must talk about the future.”

  James felt the air change inside the carriage, Georgie’s words creating a not-so-subtle tension.

  “We need to set up a few . . . parameters. First off, there will be no further talk of real marriages,” she declared, as if all their group decisions were unilaterally hers to make. “Or even more preposterous, the idea of all three of us embarking on some sort of . . . romance.”

  James pulled Trevor’s hand into both of his and spoke before Trevor could say something irretrievable. “Very well, Georgie. If that’s the way of it, you should leave Mayfield at once. Everything will be far less heated once you move back into Camburton Castle and plan the wedding with your mother.”

  “What? Why must I move back to Camburton?” She appeared as if she’d never taken anyone’s feelings into account except her own, nor had it even occurred to her that James and Trevor might have a few parameters of their own. “And what about the horses?”

  James would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so terribly sorry for Trevor—and for Georgie, for that matter. The poor man had obviously fallen in love with his dear friend, and here she was feigning concern for the cattle.

  “What about them?” James asked rhetorically, taking charge of the situation, as he should have done from the start. “They belong to Trevor now. Delivered in fine fettle. Paid in full.”

  She looked affronted. “It’s not just about paying for them. They need to be trained. Cyrus especially is already getting disobedient and spiteful. I need to—”

  “Trevor is one of the finest horsemen in the country. It’s not negotiable.” James used the same voice he used when a vendor tried to sell him a bolt of shoddy wool.

  “I beg your pardon? Everything is negotiable. And, besides, why isn’t Trevor saying anything? I don’t like the way you’re speaking for him as if he doesn’t have any say in the matter.”

  Trevor was holding James’s hand so tight it was beginning to hurt. James welcomed the sharp pain. Without turning to look at Trevor, James continued, “Trevor and I are of one mind about this, Georgie. It’s too disruptive having you at Mayfield House.”

  “Disruptive? This is an outrage. Tell him, Trevor. You must tell him. You are my oldest and dearest friend. Why are you throwing me out?”

  “We’re hardly tossing you to the curb,” James said hotly. He’d had just about enough of Lady Georgiana Cambury and her willful refusal to acknowledge that Trevor’s feelings had bloomed. He’d had enough of her refusal to acknowledge that her feelings had begun to change as well, but her dictatorial tone was making him too angry to be sympathetic. “There’s no need to be dramatic. You’re going to Camburton Castle, arguably one of the grandest country houses in the world, followed by a few weeks at Cambury House in London, arguably one of the grandest city houses in the world. I’m beginning to tire of your whining.”

  That did it. The blood drained from her face and she looked like she would have taken a swing at him if she’d been in breeches and a man’s shirt that didn’t restrict her ability to make a proper hit. “How dare you? You—you—you interloper! Who are you to speak for Trevor when he is—”

  “—in love with you?” James interrupted, in a low voice that left her no choice but to remain silent. “Can you be so blind? Everyone at the party tonight could see that Trevor is no longer pretending anything for the sake of his inheritance. He loves you, you idiot—for reasons that elude me just at the moment. You are spoiled, selfish, and, I suspect, dishonest about your own heart.”

  Trevor groaned, but kept his gaze out the dark window, as if those strikes against her were just as appealing as everything else he’d come to love about her.

  “Selfish? I’ve offered to marry my dearest friend, damn it! Spoiled? I sleep in stalls and stables without a thought for the absurd trappings of your pretentious world. As for my heart . . . well, I never promised . . . I never . . . I—I—I—” she stammered and her voice cracked with emotion.

  “Yes, Lady Georgiana, it is always about you-you-you. Alas, I will not sit idly by and watch the man I love get stuck in a mess of unrequited feelings for a million years. I was quite happy for him actually . . .” James turned his head and tenderly kissed Trevor on the jaw. “In fact, I was even encouraging him to pursue this deeper affection—for all of us to pursue a deeper affection, when I suspected there was even a remote chance.”

  “Trevor, please say something,” Georgie finally whispered.

  Keeping his eyes averted, Trevor finally said, “I’m sorry, Georgie, I really am.” His voice was shredded, and all James wanted to do was kiss him and soothe away the hurt, but obviously Georgie was not going to believe the truth until she heard it from him. Trevor finally turned to face her. “It was wrong of me to think I could do this. I’ve always loved you, darling. Before I saw you again at the inn, after so many years apart, I thought it had passed. None of that is your fault. And this is all horribly sudden, I know that. And again, I am so sorry. But yes, I think it would be best if you do as James suggests and return to your mother’s house. I will understand completely if you wish to beg off the wedding altogether, but I’m afraid my feelings for you have grown immeasurably.”

  “Well, stop them from growing, damn it!” Georgie was on the verge of angry tears. “Get ahold of yourself and stop this obsessing!”

  James nearly wept as Trevor exhaled a quick gust of air through his nostrils. “Don’t you think I would if I could, Georgie? But I want you—” He pounded his chest with his fist. “Here.” James wanted to smash something. Trevor took a few more calming breaths, then continued. “And even that I might have borne in silence, except the way you look at me—at us—the way you blush and tremble . . . I think you want it too, but you will never confess it. You will never even admit the possibility.” Trevor reached for James and held his hand. “You won’t allow for even a chance at happiness. You won’t allow for anything. Which makes the whole situation even more intolerable. You think I don’t see the way you look at James and me when we kiss or touch?” James shivered as Trevor leaned in and kissed him lightly on the neck, then looked to Georgie. “You don’t think I saw the light in your eyes when I came upon you entering the tub this evening? You expect me to believe that was just childish teasing, old friends swimming naked in the pond? To anything more than that, you say never?”

  Her lip trembled, but she said nothing in reply.

  Trevor turned away from her and looked out the window again. His grip on James’s hand had loosened somewhat, but his hold was still firm. Trevor began speaking again without looking at Georgie. “When you are like James and me, when you have spent a lifetime being told your desires are perverse, unnatural, you don’t treat it lightly when something beautiful comes your way. You don’t cast it aside because it is inconvenient—”

  “But I know what it is to feel alienated from society because of my physical desires—”

  “This is not a question of mere carnality, Georgie! You are not allowing for feelings to change and grow. And again, I won’t fault you for it. It’s all been a rushed job. Even so . . . I cannot, I will not, pretend that my feelings for you are overblown or mistaken. I believe in the power of possibilities.” He sighed, then faced Georgie. “For the short time that I tried to deny my feelings for James—when we first met and I had never been with a man, never had the courage—I learned that I am incapable of denying my affection once it blooms in my heart. In fact, it only grows when I att
empt to squash it, like a diamond that achieves its greatest clarity under the greatest pressure. And now I know it for a gift and not a burden. So,” he said softly, but with utter conviction, “it really would be best if you returned to your mother’s until our paper wedding in Hanover Square. After which, we will both be very much free of our disappointments. All I wanted was a chance . . . to show you . . . to love you . . .”

  She was crying quietly.

  So at least she wasn’t entirely without sympathy, thought James meanly.

  “Will you still be my friend?” Her voice was so small and hesitant; James had a very clear view of how she must have looked as a girl—all that bluster and confidence over such a tender heart.

  “In time, perhaps. This is no one’s fault, Georgie.” Trevor gave the roof of the barouche a firm double knock and the driver called a whoa to the horses. “I’m going to walk the rest of the way to Mayfield. We’re only a short tromp away. James will accompany me.” When the carriage had come to a full stop, James opened the door and jumped down, reaching back to assist Trevor.

  Trevor was about to step out into the cool autumn night, when he turned back to face her. He was slightly hunched in the enclosed space. James watched as he leaned in and kissed Georgie on the cheek. “I will see you at the altar, if you still wish to follow through on that part of the arrangement. I shan’t bother you either way.”

  And with that, he stepped from the carriage and shut the door behind him.

  Georgie held back her sobs for a few seconds until she was sure Trevor and James (that bastard) were well out of hearing distance. The carriage felt cold and empty as the horses picked up speed.

  Damn those two men and their emotional blackmail. She would get her things this very evening and return to Camburton Castle immediately. Knowing Vanessa’s organizational skills, she could probably plan a wedding in Mayfair for four hundred people within a fortnight, and then Georgie could be on the first boat to Egypt. Yes, she would marry him—if Trevor meant what he’d said, she could still give him the gift of his inheritance, without giving in to any of her confusing passions or compromising her settlement. For the rest of her life, she would have all the protection of a marriage without any of the restrictions of a wife.