“If I was seen with any man, cavorting in the sand, the scandal would be spectacular.”
“I’m quite aware, Georgiana, the scandal would be more horrendous if you were seen with me.” His lean, darkly handsome face was unrevealing.
His bluntness made her feel vulnerable and threatened. “There is sand in your hair,” she said softly, unable to refute his claims.
“And in my extremities, too,” he returned drolly.
Rhys prowled over to her and started dusting the sand from the back of her gown.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, always.”
Patting her hair to assess its state of dishabille, she was grateful to realize her chignon was still in place.
“I’ve ruined your dress.”
“It’s inconsequential.”
“Is it? My sisters tell me you are regularly featured in Lady’s Monthly Museum for your exquisite flare. That was a direct quote from Grace, who wishes to emulate your fashion sense but was given a scolding from our mother. I’ve also learned you are an avid patron of the fine arts, and I was ordered to comport myself with extreme gentility around you. I failed.”
She laughed, delighted with his teasing. “I do love fashion and all the arts. They have been my solace in a time when my loneliness hurt.” The admission slipped from her without thought.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
“Do you truly wish to know?”
“Yes.” The way he considered her as if he wanted to peer into her soul fascinated Georgiana.
“I got used to the idea of being a duchess a few months after my parents informed me I would be wed to Hardcastle. Though I employed all my intellect and wit to learn how to be a proper wife, sometimes I felt imprisoned by the roles expected of me. I was encouraged to read books I had no interest in, like The Mirror of the Graces by a lady of distinction, and Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women, instead of the gothic romances I longed to devour, books like The Mysteries of Udolpho.”
The night seemed to close around them, the crashing surf a lullaby instead of a discordant jangle. “I was urged by my mother and the duke to dress with elegant yet respectable demureness befitting my station. I did not resent Hardcastle’s instructions, for I wanted to be the best possible duchess. My father died a few months after the duke. I lost the two people who had impressed upon me the most stringent need for strict propriety, and it became frustratingly hard to remain in the mold in which I’d been cast,” she said softly. “I found myself buying those books he had warned me did not edify my thoughts and intellect. I found that the vibrant colors and daring styles I’d long desired to wear as part of my ensemble suited me. I actively sponsored young artists and attended the theaters, and it wasn’t long before I wasn’t a duchess to be pitied because I had lost my husband so young, but a person to be admired. Yet despite the joy and wonder I found with my son and indulging in the lavish extravagances of the last few seasons, I felt empty.” Until you… “I must go.”
“Allow me to escort you back to the ball.”
“I would prefer to return to Lady Blanchett’s manor.”
“I am familiar with the viscountess. You are staying with her?”
“With my son. Only for a couple days.”
“Is he recovering well?”
“Yes. He has no memory of the encounter, and I am grateful for it.”
“Has he ever been by the seaside?”
She glanced at Rhys. “Nicolas has never had the pleasure.”
They were silent for a few moments as they padded along the coastline.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I…I had no definitive plan when I came down. I had intended to call upon your family, to meet your sisters in a more informal setting. Did you have something in mind…for us?”
“I thought your son might enjoy the seaside. Would you like to bring him here?”
Uncertainty almost cleaved her in two. Entangling him within her son’s life was far different from having an affair.
Clasping his hands behind him, he tilted his head to the sky, breathing in the crisp, clean air. “I thought we were to be friends.”
“Yes,” she said. “I find I am perplexingly comfortable with you.”
“I promise I would never hurt your son. And when our affair ends, it will have no bearing on whatever bonds of friendship we’ve formed.”
The tightness in her chest eased. “I think Nicolas will love it here.”
Rhys smiled. “Then we’ll meet here in the morning, early when everyone will still be abed.”
She wanted to say she would meet him at whatever time but knew, even so far removed in the country, the speculation would be too much to bear. “I would like that. And Barnaby and Calliope will be joining us.”
“And who are Barnaby and Calliope?”
“Nicolas’s pups. They are one-year-old wolfhounds and are quite large, but Nicolas goes nowhere without them,” she said, laughing.
This friendly companionship was dangerous. They were not of the same world, and she should be pushing away from him, not drawing closer. She was leading her heart to break, and she was helpless to stop it.
Chapter Thirteen
Despite the warnings in her heart that she was falling far too deep with Rhys Tremayne, the very next day, Georgiana returned to the seaside with Nicolas, Calliope, and Barnaby in tow. A happy Nicolas had run barefoot in the sand until he had exhausted himself. He’d been a bit hesitant with Rhys initially, but it had melted away alarmingly fast after Rhys had shrugged from his coat and rolled in the sand with the large wolfhounds. At times, they played in the shallow part of the sea, the water barely passing their shins. Georgiana had stayed by the shore and watched them, simply enjoying the shrieks of pleasure that were emitted by her son and the echoing barks from their dogs as they chased birds, and Nicolas.
Barnaby barked and sprinted in the sand toward a large rock in the sea. He growled and released a series of barks.
“Mamma, look!” Nicolas pointed toward the left at a large stone with a mess of reeds floating on the surface of the sea and butting against the stone.
Without hesitation, Rhys waded toward the tangled mess, and God in heavens, her son waded out with him. She expected Rhys to shoo him back, but instead, he held Nicolas’s arm as they pushed toward the tangled mess a few feet fr
om them. When the water got too deep, her son climbed atop Rhys’s shoulders, and she could hear his excited chatter from where she stood. They worked together, head bent over whatever it was, until they dragged it onto the sand.
Georgiana walked toward the duo, who were too engrossed in what they were doing to pay her any attention. It was some sort of bird, and its beak and feathers were tangled in fisherman’s netting.
“Is it alive?” her son whispered.
“It seems that way. Though I believe the wing may be broken. It is bent at an unnatural angle.”
“Oh.” Her son sounded forlorn at the realization. “So, should we put it back?”
Rhys stilled for a moment. “In the sea?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Nicolas’s face scrunched into a frown. “But the wing is broken. It won’t live long with a broken piece.”
“We should still untangle it and assess its chances.”
“Because we must help things weaker than us?”
Rhys’s lips twitched. “Yes.”
“That is what my mamma says. To be a good duke, I must be kind and help others. I think she means birds, too.”
Rhys glanced at her, before turning his regard back to her son. “I believe she meant them, as well.”
Her son nodded solemnly, and they worked to untangle the bird, which lay still, barely moving. They worked diligently together until several minutes passed and the bird was free. It squawked fiercely, and Nicolas jerked then giggled.
“I think she is happy we are freeing her.”
Georgiana missed Rhys’s reply, being too enraptured by the glowing admiration on her son’s face as he peered up at Rhys. Not even with Simon had she ever seen her son wear that expression. Her throat closed as they finally freed the bird from the last tangle. The bird stood and shook itself, and her son exclaimed his happiness at seeing that the bird’s wings were intact. After a few halting movements, the bird launched away into the sky, flapping its wings as fast as it could.
Her eyes collided with Rhys’s, he grinned, then winked, and Georgiana laughed. She felt wonderful, and at this moment there was nowhere else she would prefer to be. The realization was exhilarating and frightening. This affection and friendship was much harder to bear than passion and would only make their parting harder.