“Wouldna move if I was you,” one of the villagers warned. “That lad has some fierce teeth.”

“He is correct,” Georgie agreed. “Murphy here has already dispatched with Jem. Jem will live, but will undoubtedly need a surgeon. As for you two--” Murphy leapt back down and sat docilely at Georgie’s side to have his head scratched. “Murphy now knows who you are. If you are found within a a hundred yards of him, he will know and attack you. And he is never out of my daughter’s sight. When you return to the Abbey, please feel free to tell the marquess that his plan went terribly awry and will again if he tries. Not only that, but tell him that I have items of his and the marchioness’s that I will show to Murphy so he knows their scent. If they interfere with my daughter again, I will not hesitate to set Murphy on them as well. Are you very clear?”

The gamekeeper glared at her with that look that betrayed his confidence that no woman could better him.

So Georgie smiled. “If truth be known, I’d like to see you try. I was charitable to Jem and pulled Murphy off. I will not be to you. Now go bring this news back to the marquess. And Dick. I will tell my brother of your part in this so he knows when he ascends to the title.”

At this point, the duke turned towards her. “May I add my own word, Lady Georgina?”

Georgina bestowed a huge smile on him. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

That definitely got the men’s attention. Half the villagers yanked their hats from their heads.

“Yes,” Adam said complacently. “You heard right. I have the honor of being the Duke of Rothray, which means I can easily make sure you vanish so thoroughly your parents won’t remember they had you. So take the lady’s warning to heart. Because if any harm comes to her child, you will be punished for it, whether you were involved or not. And if her beast here doesn’t destroy you, I will.”

“We’ll be happy to help, y’r lordship!” one of the villagers piped up. “Yon little girl is one of ours.”

Adam turned a smiling bow on him and all the smiling villagers.

“Now,” Georgie said. “Both of you best be going before I change my mind and give Murphy here a treat.”

At the subtle flick of her finger no one else saw, Murphy let loose with another unnerving growl. Dick gathered the reins.

“One final question,” Georgie spoke up before she lost her nerve. “Where were you to take her?”

Clem’s expression was pure malice. “Hopkins Home for the Insane. Yorkshire.”

Adam’s hand was back under her elbow, keeping her upright. Murphy wasn’t the only one who growled as the gamekeeper whipped up the horses and lumbered off. Sweet Jesus, Georgie thought. Sweet suffering Jesus. She knew her parents hated her. But that they could do that to a baby, no matter the reason. Their own grandchild. It was impossible. It had to be impossible.

“I may have to kill him myself,” she muttered, her head down, her stomach roiling with fury and grief.

“Happy to help,” Adam assured her. “Do you really have items of theirs Murphy can scent?”

She snorted. “Of course not.”

“Missus Grace?” one of the villagers spoke up.

Georgie lifted her eyes to see Mr. Jenson the butcher frowning at her. “We’ll keep an eye out too, My Lady. Nobody’ll take that child.”

Tears welled again, hot and bitter. But she saw the rest of them nodding and smiled. “I am blessed to have you all as neighbors. Now, I believe it is about time for tea.”

“We just had tea,” the duke reminded her.

“In that case,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Brandy.”

John Coachman helped them back into the curricle and waited for Murphy to reclaim his seat and the grooms to mount before turning the vehicle about. Georgie clasped her hands in her lap, her fingers white from the strain. She could feel the trembling set in. She wasn’t unfamiliar with it. When her cousin Gervaise had tried to kill Jamie, she had reacted much the same way. Cool and collected until the danger had passed, only to fall apart in the middle of the kitchen, much to Mrs. Prince’s astonishment. It had taken four glasses of sherry and three slices of gingerbread to calm her.

She had a feeling that today four glasses would just be a start.

Adam tried to lay his hand atop hers.

“Don’t,” she snapped, rearing back.

He pulled away, obviously surprised.

“I apologize,” Georgie said, her voice thinning out with the building tears. “I don’t think I can maintain my composure if you offer comfort right this minute.”

She knew he was watching her like a mad horse, just waiting for her to kick out. She didn’t think she cared. As long as he didn’t touch her, she could hold off the storm. And she had to do that until she saw Lully and reassured her everything was all right.

And then she needed to speak with the duke and put all this nonsense to rest.




CHAPTER 5




LULLY, it turned out, was in far better condition than her mother. She and Hattie were ensconced in the green and yellow nursery having bread and butter with her dolls, whom Lully was regaling with the story of the bad man who had been vanquished by brave Lully, monstrous Murphy and Hattie’s ferocious umbrella. Georgie managed a smile. By the time young Jamie came home, it would be an epic poem filled with swords and dragons.

Georgie left Murphy there, happily dozing in the corner with the bone Mrs. Prince had awarded him like a heroic soldier, and went to change her dress yet again. When she’d walked back in the house Mrs. Prince had pointed out the blood on her skirt.

“Ned?” Georgie asked her.

“He’ll limp for a while,” Mrs. Prince had said, “that’s f’r sure. But he’ll mend. He’s a good boy, I’m thinking. An evil deed to force him to this.”

“Yes,” Georgie agreed, her chest tightening another degree. “An evil deed.”

By the time she walked into Jack’s library where the brandy was kept she’d almost forgotten that the duke waited for her. All she could think of was the soothing tonic that also awaited her. She didn’t enjoy spirits. But right now she positively yearned for the burn of the liquor down her throat. She desperately needed not only the distraction, but the harsh comfort.

She walked in to see Adam turn from the decanters, two snifters in his hands. “I took you at your word,” he said with a gentle smile. “How is our brave girl?”

Georgie couldn’t imagine any man looking more dear at that moment. She managed another smile for him. “Quite full of herself for kicking young Ned when he tried to grab her. She has decided she should join the army when she is old enough.”

Adam laughed as he limped toward her. “I pity whichever enemy she faces.”

Georgie nodded. “I pity the army she joins.”

Her chest hurt. She laid a hand against her breastbone, as if she could help ease the growing tightness. Adam handed a brandy to her, but she found herself just staring at it, as if she couldn’t make out what it was.

“Georgie?”

She opened her mouth, then shook her head. Oh, no, she thought, breathing fast to dispel those hateful tears building behind her ribs. Not now. Not in front of him. She reached for the brandy and downed it in one swallow. She didn’t even choke. That fire exploded inside her and eased the pain in her chest a bit.

She saw the growing alarm on the duke’s face and tried to smile. Instead she laughed, except it sounded like a sob. She pushed her fist against her mouth, as if she could force it back in, but it happened again, and then again, until she was shuddering and the tears splashed her arms and she dropped the snifter to the floor where it rolled across the parquet.

Adam must have set his own snifter down, because suddenly his arms were around her,

holding her up, holding her against him, holding her safe as she dissolved into the most hideous, mortifying sobs she had ever spent.

She had no idea how long she wept, only that she thoroughly soaked Adam’s waistcoat and creased his coat where she clutched at it to hold herself up. She just knew that for the first time since her Jamie had gone to sea, she felt safe with a man. Protected. And yes, comforted. Just the steady thud of his heart against her ear soothed her, his hand rubbing her back, his murmurs in her ear.

“Fuist,” he finally whispered, his hand holding her head to his chest. “Tá sé ceart go leor.”

Still gasping with sobs, she pulled her head back. “’It’s all right?’ You...know Irish?!”

His smile was gentle as dawn. “It helps to know what your Irish troops are saying about you.”

Her chuckle was very watery, but she found she could smile. She was still trembling like a blancmange, and she felt the chasm of what her father had done. Tried to do. Meant to do. But she felt a little calmer.

And then she looked into those sea-blue eyes. Piercing, compelling, like wells in a desert. She couldn’t seem to look away. She couldn’t breathe correctly. It was as if the world stood still and waited.

Before she could think or pull away or step closer, he cupped her face in his hands and drew her back to him. For a moment, he just brushed away the tears that still tracked her cheeks, his eyes soft and kind. Then, without real intention, as if it was simply meant to be, Georgie found herself being kissed.

And oh, what a kiss. Her Jamie had been all bright energy and boyish enthusiasm. He would buss her as if she were running past him. This man was deliberate, gentle, suggestive. His mouth was soft, inviting, clever, coaxing her to open to him until she couldn’t seem to think or protest. She felt his fingers stroke her cheek and heard the quickening of his breath. She didn’t know what she felt, except that somehow this seemed right. It seemed inevitable. It seemed to fill her with a sweet fire that warmed her far more than the brandy. She couldn’t even think to wrap her own arms around him. She could only stand where she was, lost in a kiss.