Regency Society. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
an emotion he had long dismissed as being behind him, too dangerous to encourage. There had been women to share his bed, of course, but none of them serious and there had been no one at all for a long time. Perhaps that was why he had been experiencing these sudden swathes of hot desire as he looked at Georgie in her youth’s clothing. Something he felt disturbing and not to be indulged.
He did not want to face the notion that he might truly have feelings for this girl who had come into his life unasked. His work was too dangerous for him to think of marriage; he could be killed by an enemy at any time, and that would leave her a widow before she was a wife.
Besides, they hardly knew one another. It was ridiculous to even consider marriage. Neither of them truly wished for it! If he ever married it would be for an heir, as his sister never tired of telling him he ought to do, but never for love. His experience of these things was that they led only to pain. His mother had died in childbed, leaving his father distraught, a broken man. He had seen his uncle decline after Justin’s death, and the memory still haunted him. No, love was not something he wished to experience.
‘I am glad to have been of help,’ he murmured huskily and meant it. ‘Do not worry, Georgie. If your aunt should turn you away I shall think of something.’
‘I do not wish to be more of a burden than I have been already.’
‘You are not a burden,’ Richard said, his tone becoming harsh all of a sudden. ‘Excuse me, I must speak to Henderson. I trust you have no objection to his joining us in the parlour for our nuncheon as usual? He serves me, but I have been used to treating him as a friend rather than a servant.’
‘Of course not. Why should I?’ Georgie said, though she knew it was something that would not happen when their lives were back to normal. But when that happened she would not see Richard again, except perhaps as a casual acquaintance in town, if she should be fortunate enough to visit.
Georgie felt a hot burning behind her eyes when she realised that she had only a few hours left in his company. In the morning Richard would deliver her to her great-aunt’s home and go on his way, relieved to be rid of her no doubt.
When had she begun to think of him as Richard? And why did the thought of parting weigh heavily on her, making her breast feel as if it were being crushed? After all, he was merely someone who had come to her rescue when she needed him.
That was just it, of course. He had been there when she needed him, and insensibly she had come to think of him as her special friend, someone she could turn to in need. She must put that notion out of her mind. Richard had been considerate, kind and gentle towards her, but he must have found her a nuisance, especially at a time when he was wounded and in danger of his life.
She must not make him feel he owed her anything. He must be free to go on his way and forget her. Even as she made her silent vow, she knew that she would not forget him! Georgie sensed instinctively that this brief interlude would remain with her for a long time. Perhaps for the rest of her life. The thought made her want to weep.
What was she going to do with her life now? Georgie hardly knew what she wanted. Her great-aunt was elderly. It was not likely that she would entertain often, which meant that Georgie would be forced to spend long hours alone or with just her aunt for company. For a moment she sank beneath the weight of such a prospect, but then she put it behind her. If Great-Aunt Mary did not wish to take her to London or Bath she might know someone who would take it on for a consideration. There were bound to be widows of good family who did not have sufficient money for their needs.
And what then? Georgie wondered. It was usual for girls of good families to marry, settle down and provide an heir for their husbands. She did not know why the prospect of marrying an unknown gentleman did not appeal. When she was younger she had dreamed of falling in love, but as yet she had met no one who appealed to her…as much as Richard.
Oh, no! She was appalled at her thoughts. She must not even consider such a prospect. Richard had no desire to marry her, did not believe himself obliged to despite their circumstances these past few days. And she did not wish to be married simply to rescue her good name!
Georgie buried the renegade thoughts that told her she would not find it a hardship to marry Richard Hernshaw. She liked him despite his deplorable habit of mocking her—in fact, if she were truthful, she liked him a little too much for her own good.
Richard returned some twenty minutes later with his manservant, and the host followed almost immediately with their dinner. They were served cold beef, a dish of calves’liver in sweet sauce, chops and jugged hare with a remove of mashed potatoes and swede, carrots and baked onions. This was followed by a quince tart and an apple turnover with fresh cream.
She was pleased to notice that for the first time Richard did justice to his food, eating almost as much as Henderson and more than she could manage. He looked at her as she refused the apples and cream.
‘I ordered that especially for you. Did you not like it?’
‘I have eaten more than enough,’ she replied. For some reason she had lost her appetite. ‘I do not usually eat as much as I have recently. I think I was making up for having gone without for some days, but now I am back to normal.’
‘It is not because I teased you about getting fat?’
‘Oh, no, of course not,’ she said and smiled a little wanly. ‘I just do not feel hungry.’
‘Well, it is only a few hours since we broke our fast,’ Richard said. ‘I should not have stopped so soon had it not been necessary. However, we shall go on again shortly. If you are worried about getting to your aunt’s, we might see if we can get there. The carriage I have hired will make good time, I dare say.’
‘Oh, no, I am in no hurry,’ Georgie said. She frowned and looked down at herself. ‘I must try to find a dress before we get to my great-aunt’s house.’
‘I have thought of that,’ Richard said. ‘There are some things for you with my luggage and Henderson will bring them to you this evening before you retire. I shall order your breakfast in your room and we can leave immediately afterwards so that hardly anyone will see you.’
Georgie was silent. It would only need one person of quality to see her leaving the inn to ruin her reputation, but she would say nothing more on the subject. After all, it did not matter so very much since she had no real desire to marry. Perhaps she never would marry. If only she had some burning desire, something she truly wished to accomplish—like becoming an actress or a famous explorer, perhaps.
She wondered if she should do something of the sort once she had her inheritance. She could engage a companion and travel abroad. For a few minutes pleasant thoughts of all the countries she might visit filled her mind, but unfortunately she kept thinking that it would be much better to travel with a gentleman for company—and one particular gentleman would not stay out of her head.
It was most disobliging of him! She struggled to change her thoughts, becoming aware that his eyes were on her, mysterious and intent, the colour of wet slate.
‘What? Have I done something wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ he said and shook his head. ‘I shall pay the host and then we shall continue our journey—if you are ready?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Georgie replied, though her heart said something entirely different. ‘I dare say you will be glad to deliver me to my great-aunt so that you may go about your business in peace.’
‘It is true that I have business of my own in Yorkshire,’ Richard replied, his expression serious. ‘However, there is nothing urgent. I intend to make certain that you are settled and happy before I move on.’ He frowned. ‘It has occurred to me that I have no idea of our eventual destination. You have not told me the exact location of your aunt’s home or even her name.’
‘Did I not?’ Georgie pulled a face. ‘I am not certain of the location…I know it is near a village called Shrewsbury Morton and it is not far from York, for in her letters to me she talks of dining with friends at an inn in York. Her name…she