Pretty Persuasion (11 page)

If it was the last thing he did, he'd make sure that they would rediscover their friendship. And just maybe it would become more than that. Maybe she really was what he needed to achieve the peaceful life he craved—the woman who could be his wife, the mother of his children, and a lifelong companion.

So he would woo her, then. He'd have to move slowly, of course. But no matter what, he'd make the most of their time alone, and, by Jove, he'd make sure she forgot all about that fop Rossemore while he was at it.

"Robert permitted me draw his portrait to-day. I was not at all happy with the result, but he said that it was a Reasonable Likeness, and that it shew'd promise. It was the nicest Compliment I have ever received."

— From the diary of Lady Georgiana Montford, aged 11

DAWN HAD NOT fully broken when Mrs. Pease brushed aside the curtains in Georgie's bedchamber the next morning. Georgie reluctantly opened her eyes, squinting against the gray-tinted light that filled the room.

"Good morning, your ladyship," the housekeeper said cheerfully, apparently thinking it actually was.

Georgie blinked, trying to clear her head. "What time is it?"

"Time to get up," the heavy-jowled woman replied. "I brought your usual cup of chocolate and gooseberry jam for your toast. I remember how you used to ask for it when you visited."

If it really were morning, not still night, Georgie would have been ecstatic. It was impossible to be angry, however. Despite being responsible for the entire household, the housekeeper still took the time to fuss over Georgie. "That sounds lovely, Mrs. Pease, but it's terribly early."

"That it is, but you need your breakfast." Picking up a tray, Mrs. Pease brought the food to Georgie's night table. Bemused, Georgie automatically sat up as the housekeeper adjusted her pillows with a tug and a whack. "His lordship explicitly said to make sure you were ready within the hour."

Oh, he did, did he? A wave of irritation washed over her as Mrs. Pease placed the tray in Georgie's lap, and not even the dark, delicious aroma of steamy chocolate improved her mood. "Did he say why?"

The housekeeper beamed. "Why, it is May Day! He has given the staff the day off, and they've gone a-maying, every last one of them. Silent as the grave, the house is. I assume he intends for you to take part in the merriment."

And naturally, he hadn't seen fit to tell her the night before. Granted, since they arrived at Kingsworth, she'd taken her meals in her room, but she had expected him to demand she join him in the dining room and was reluctantly disappointed when he didn't. Still, he could at least have sent her a note.

Why he had insisted on that ridiculous bargain was beyond her. She'd had no choice but to accept, not if she wanted more time to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with her parents.

It had taken her nearly an hour to write that letter. Lying to them was difficult enough; lying so well that they believed she had good reason for staying in Yorkshire, and yet wasn't seriously ill, had proven a considerable challenge.

Oh, how she loathed that keeping at least part of the truth hidden was one of the only weapons she possessed to ward off those who would run her life for her! She longed for the day when the price of honesty would not be too high. But until then, untruths and secrets were a form of self-defense she could not afford to give up.

Mrs. Pease bustled about the room, tidying up. Georgie considered how long she could delay, just to irritate Robert. As if she could read her mind, the housekeeper said, "Thy ladyship had better hurry. His lordship said he'd come fetch you himself if you dawdled."

That did it. Recalling his threat to dress her by force, Georgie lifted the cup of chocolate to her lips. Her mind rebelled at the idea of doing his bidding, but it would be beyond foolish to throw down the gauntlet while she was still fuzzyheaded from sleep and not properly dressed.

FIFTY MINUTES LATER, Georgie descended to find Robert conversing with his head groom, who was holding the reins of two saddled bays. The horses were gorgeous, sleek grace and pedigree showing in their proud bearing. She guessed the smaller one was the filly Robert had suggested she exercise.

Her heart jumped when his eyes fastened on her. He gave her a quick once-over, a shadow of intangible emotion passing across his face. "Good morning."

A shiver took her, and she gave herself a mental kick. It irked that his mere presence could affect her so. "I assume you have a good reason for depriving me of sleep in this manner."

His eyes twinkled. "I assure you, I have only the noblest of intentions."

"What intentions?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Obviously, she would need a great deal of patience to keep her end of their bargain. That, and a mild temper, both of which she knew did not come naturally to her. Stepping onto the mounting block, she swung up and accepted the reins from the groom. Robert mounted effortlessly, and then they were on their way.

A veil of gray still hung overhead, yet the countryside bustled with activity. Shouts of laughter and chatter echoed in the air as they rode through the verdant fields, passing dozens of young people gathering flowers and tree branches.

"What are they doing?"

"Bringing in the May," Robert said. "It's a grand spectacle. I assume you have not experienced it before."

"I haven't." By the first of May, her family had always been in London, where the celebrated day was never a grand event.

"May Day in Brigham is like no place else." A wry smile touched his face. "The villagers would not let anything as insignificant as changing times rob them of an excuse to make merry."

Georgie smiled involuntarily but turned to hide it. With a nudge of her heel, she urged the filly to a canter. Robert soon caught up, and they rode abreast across the fields and into the forest. The path narrowed as the trees grew thicker together, and Robert led the way when it constricted enough for only one to pass at a time.

He slowed to a stop beside a great oak tree and turned to her with an expectant look. In return, she eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"It is thought that to wash your face with dew on May Day morning will improve your complexion," he said with a faint smile. "I do not mind your freckles in the least, but since you seem to wish them gone, I thought you'd like to seize the opportunity."

Realization dawned. That, at least, was a custom of which she knew. She made a mocking sound. "And if you wish hard enough, you will find a husband within the year?"

"Precisely." He dismounted and tied his horse to the tree.

"It is nonsense." The filly shifted, seeming eager to be off again, and the leather reins squeaked within Georgie's gloves as she tightened her grip on them.

"It can hardly hurt, now, can it?" He reached out to help her down.

Warmth stirred in her as she eyed his outstretched hand, the intensity in his gaze. No wonder he had declared his intentions noble; he was trying to please her. She was surprised that he did not seem smug about it. Men usually were when they performed a service, and they always expected something in return.

"Come," he said.

The soft entreaty broke past her hesitation, and she accepted his assistance. When her feet were planted on the ground, he took the reins and tied them to the tree. "Mrs. Pease informed me that the dew from beneath an oak is supposed to work especially well. I didn't know she was a superstitious woman."

Georgie dropped to her knees. She drew off her glove and ran her hand through the grass. Little droplets of dew dampened her fingertips, and she lifted her hand to her face, but there she stopped and let her arm fall. "It's too silly."

"Silliness is no sin." Robert knelt beside her, tugging off his glove. His hand brushed the grass, then rose to her face. Instinct told her to shy away, but she froze, heart thumping, senses alert. His fingers felt rough against her skin as they ran over her nose and cheeks, bathing her with the fresh morning dew. Again and again, his hand dipped to the grass, and with each touch, she became more lightheaded, more breathless.

When her freckles had been thoroughly washed, he cupped her cheek. She leaned into his hand despite herself and closed her eyes. Before her mind's eye, she saw the Robert of her youth, laughing with her, answering her incessant questions with honesty, treating her with the respect he showed an adult. Being her friend.

An ache swelled in her chest, and she opened her eyes. And there it was, the olive-green gaze that used to make her stomach flutter, the cleft chin she had longed to touch—the man that had once been her destiny.

But he was not the same man. This Robert was coarser, and his gaze burned hotter, burned with a hunger she recognized. Stabbed by a spark of panic, she shot to her feet. She tried to put her glove back on, but her hands trembled too much. Giving up, she bunched the soft kidskin in her other hand.

Destiny, indeed! She had given Phillip that designation, too, and that fact alone should have made her banish such foolishness.

She untied her horse, patting its muzzle. Robert appeared beside her. "Georgie—"

"From now on, I want to know your plans for the day the night before," she interrupted, because she did not want to hear what he had to say.

He bent to give her a hand up, lifting her easily into the saddle. "I suppose you'll want to know what we are doing today, then."

"There's more?"

Though a crease had appeared between his brows, he still gave a tiny smile. "The day has barely begun, Georgie."

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Georgie rode with Robert and Mr. Cameron from Kingsworth to the village of Brigham. The sun beat down on them, and the fresh, sweet scent of spring floated in the air. Flowering branches decorated every house they passed—empty houses, for not a soul seemed left behind as the villagers flocked toward the same destination.

Stabling their horses, they mingled easily with the villagers, who surprisingly did not look askance at their presence. As the crowd thickened, Georgie understood why. There were no barriers on this day. Man and woman, young and old, genteel or in service—there was no one to whom the festivities exclusively belonged.

They walked among the tented booths that framed the village green, where the revelers could buy a savory pie or pastry, trinkets and gewgaws, or play games that put mind, body, or one's relationship with Lady Fortune to the test. Tables and chairs had been brought outside, but few seemed inclined to make use of them. The largest crowd had formed in front of a stage of polished wood that stood host to a company of players, and their performance brought frequent bursts of laughter and applause from their rapt audience.

And in the middle of it all, like a proud guardian of the revelries, the maypole stood bedecked with greenery, dozens of colorful ribbons streaming along its length to the ground.

They stopped to watch a group of young men who were armed with bows and arrows and were waiting to participate in what Georgie assumed was to be an archery competition.

"Ah! Your lordship!" A man with an enormous hooked nose waved and started making his way toward them, dodging the other spectators. From his black clothes, white collar, and shovel hat, Georgie supposed he was a member of the clergy.

"Mr. Tillyard," Robert said, greeting him with a nod. "How do you do?"

"Oh, very well, your lordship, very well," the man wheezed, pulling out a kerchief to wipe his brow. "Fair day, what? I say, pleased you are here. My condolences for your loss. A good man, your father. Much favored. Heard tell you were in residence. Most surprising, this time of year."

Robert cracked a smile. "And here I thought a man of God would pay no heed to the gossip mill."

The clergyman waved him off. "One is hard-pressed to ignore it."

Robert introduced him to Georgie and Mr. Cameron. "Well, now," Mr. Tillyard said, looking at the young men with bows and arrows, "seems we are nearly ready to start. You ought to join in, gentlemen. Tuppence apiece. Profits go to the parish."

Georgie smiled to herself. No wonder the reverend was in such high spirits.

"Is there a prize beyond the glory?" Mr. Cameron asked.

"The winner gets a crown and"—a scowl formed on Mr. Tillyard's face—"a kiss from the Queen. Tried to break that tradition for years, but they pay me no heed."

The Queen? Georgie looked to Robert in confusion, and he murmured, "The Queen of the May. Over there."

She followed the direction of his nod. In the midst of a gathering of young girls, she saw a rosy-cheeked brunette wearing a crown of blossoming hawthorn on her head.

"With that prize, who could resist?" said the Scots devil.

"Indeed," Robert agreed with a grin. His enthusiasm provoked a glare from Georgie, but he didn't notice as he asked the reverend to keep her company while he and Mr. Cameron joined in.

The first half-dozen competitors acquitted themselves well, but only one hit the center of the target. Despite not wanting him to receive the prize, Georgie found herself silently cheering when Robert stepped up to take his shot. He lifted the bow steadily, and the arrow hissed through the air, hitting right on the mark. Georgie joined in the applause, and when his gaze sought hers in the crowd, her heart made a flip. He gave her a brilliant smile. She did not return it, refusing to show such friendliness.

Another young man also hit the target, and Mr. Cameron proved equally adept. The second round went much the same way, and when Robert's arrow found the center even more surely than before, Georgie clapped so hard her palms grew warm and tingling. As his gaze drifted to her again, she reluctantly returned his smile.

By the third round, Robert and the Scot were tied with a man from the village. Glancing at the May Queen, Georgie noticed the girl staring moon-eyed at the men, and especially, it seemed, at Robert. Her excitement faded and a hard knot formed in her belly.

The crowd had gathered closer to the competitors, and the women were being especially boisterous. Mr. Tillyard was deep in conversation with the judges, and taking advantage of his inattention, Georgie slipped easily among the crowd. By the time Robert stepped up to take his final shot, she'd elbowed her way to the front.