There was a piercing watchfulness to his regard, and it made her decidedly uncomfortable.
“I sent you three invitations,” he murmured.
She sent him a reproachful glance. Georgiana had ignored them all, not wanting any possible reoccurrence of the drawing in the scandal sheet until she had figured out how best to continue their affair. Being his lover by night and then strangers whenever they met at balls and picnics as she introduced his sister to the polite world was not an existence she was happy with. “I thought it better to place some distance between us.”
Rhys moved over to the fireplace and sank to his haunches encouraging the fire to flare with efficient expertise. He stood and faced her. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Unable to help herself she crossed over to him. She could have done so many things—kissed his infuriatingly sensual mouth, slapped him for sneaking onto the estate and into her chambers, or even ordered him to leave. Instead, she slipped her arms around his waist, rested her cheek against his chest, and hugged him tightly. His arms banded around her, dragging her closer to his muscled frame.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
He eased her from him, shrugged from his jacket, and tossed it over a chair by the fireplace. With impatient fingers, he tore at his cravat, and before he was finished, pulled her into his arms and settled his mouth over hers. He didn’t ravish. He was gentle yet passionate. She responded helplessly, parting her lips for his questing tongue. He made a low noise of pleasure, as if he’d tasted something delightful.
Without releasing her from his drugging kisses, he swept her into his arms, and a few steps later he bore her down onto the four-poster bed, parting her thighs with his knees and cradling his large frame there.
One of his hands coasted over her skin, dragging her nightgown up to bunch at her waist. Georgiana’s entire body seemed to burn, and she shifted restlessly beneath him. Rhys released her mouth to trail his lips down, over her collarbone and to her aching nipples. His tongue stroked her hardened nipple, and a breathless, inarticulate cry echoed in the room.
He rolled the hardened tip between his teeth. A soft moan of distress slipped from her, and he lifted his head to peer into her face.
“What’s wrong?”
She encircled his neck even tighter and wrapped her legs high around his back. “My breasts have been terribly sensitive. I believe you should direct your attention elsewhere,” she murmured huskily, pressing soft kisses along his jawline.
It took her a few seconds to realize he was frozen. “Rhys?”
“We have been lovers for about eight weeks.”
Georgiana frowned. “Why is that important now?” she asked, flummoxed at the sudden tension thrumming through him.
“Forgive the indelicate question, but I must ask, when was the last time you saw your courses?”
Georgiana was bereft of words. For a long moment, she couldn’t answer. She released his neck, and he pushed from between her legs and off the bed. Tugging her nightgown over her thighs, she slipped her feet off the bed, swiftly thinking. Dear God. “I… You need to leave, Rhys.” Georgiana could scarcely breathe, she shoved a shaky hand through her hair.
“Answer me. When was the last time, duchess?”
The flat command in his tone had her lifting her eyes to his shuttered mien.
“Before we became lovers,” she confessed softly.
“You’re with child.”
She wanted to shout at him. She wasn’t ready to think about the implications of her missed courses, overly sensitive breasts, and dear God, the slight queasiness of the past few days. It wasn’t possible. The doctors had informed the duke the spare he had been hoping for would never arrive.
Taking an even breath, she stood and faced Rhys. His stare made her feel as if she belonged to him, as if he had a right to her soul, not just her body. Her heart started to pound as the awareness this was not a simple affair for him scythed through her. “I may be,” she breathed.
“My lady?”
Oh, the sensual possessiveness of his tone whenever he referred to her as “my lady” indicated it wasn’t an honorific as she’d thought. Marshalling her wits, she replied, “Yes?”
The silence felt anticipatory.
“Marry me.”
A delicious shock ran through her. The words were like a honeyed blade, painfully cutting, but wonderfully sweet. These were sentiments she hadn’t realized she longed to hear…but never thought they would be voiced because they were simply impossible desires. “I…” The words stuck in her throat, threating to choke her. Her entire being was consumed with the need to say yes. Oh God, it was impossible, their worlds and expectations were simply too different. “Rhys…”
“Yes?” There was a trace of amusement in the warmth of his voice.
“I’m…I’m a duchess,” she said inanely.
“I am aware of that, Georgiana.”
She started to pace, hating the confused emotions rioting inside. I am with child. She wanted to say the words, but couldn’t voice them. “I cannot marry you.”
He flinched. It was so subtle, but she caught it, and her heart broke even more.
“Why not?”
She wanted to weep from the confusion twisting through her. “We had an affair. I was your lover, your mistress even, and I enjoyed each scandalous thrill. But nothing more can be between us, Rhys. I…I am a duchess…and you’re…you’re…” Her words tapered off, and she stared at him helplessly. The ton would savage him, he would be the butt of gossip for years to come, nor would he be allowed in any drawing room. “Marriage to me will not see your family elevated. Instead, you…would be pariahs.” The scandal would roar like an unquenchable fire, linger for months, years, eroding the Hardcastles’ legacy and her family’s reputation.
“Is that what you believe, that I would ask you to marry me because I seek social elevation?” He was very good at controlling his expressions.
No, her heart shouted, but her lips remained sealed.
“Well?” His voice was soft, utterly devoid of emotion.
“No,” she gasped. “I’ve been groomed my entire life to be a duchess.”
“So, you are not a woman with desires of your own, but a mere puppet of the ton. I am impressed you lowered yourself to indulge in an affair.”
“You do not understand.”
He prowled over to her, resting the flat of his palm against her stomach. The deliberateness of his touch made her pulse flutter. “You forget the most salient fact, my lady. You are with child. My child. This is the only thing I am currently concerned with.”
She would not cry. Tears would do no good. “That is not how this works. We do not marry, and I bear our child, and then we ride off in our carriage into the sunset, and all is well,” she whispered fiercely, hating the fact her voice trembled. “Our union will not be accepted. My reputation and honor will come under the severest of scrutiny, and even your sisters will be affected most egregiously, for our alliance will not be welcomed by polite society. My family, your sisters, we will endure social ostracism.”
His hands fell away, and he stepped back. “I need more clarity, duchess. You are with child, and that cannot be undone. Will society not be as unkind to an unwed mother? Even amongst my common kind, an unwed mother is shamed,” he said with chilling softness, his expression betraying not the slightest flicker of reaction.
She swallowed. “Perhaps I am not even with child but ate something that did not agree with me and…” Her words trailed away, and panic muddled her thoughts. These were the same symptoms she had shown when she had been enceinte with Nicolas. Georgiana had accepted the assessment of all three doctors Hardcastle had summoned and never dreamed that there could have been an error in their pronouncement. “I would not be an unwed mother,” she said, knowing she would never allow her child to be labeled a bastard. That was possibly an even greater scandal. A duchess bearing a child with the father unknown to the world.
; Something dark and dangerous flashed in his gaze, and she stumbled back.
“I believe I misunderstood you, duchess. Are you by chance implying you would allow another man, no doubt a lord, to raise my child and deny me the right?” His voice was icy with lethal scorn. “You will answer me, duchess.”
Georgiana hadn’t thought so far ahead; her response had simply been visceral at the idea of her child suffering at the cruelty she knew existed in the ton. “I have no answer to give you,” she said hoarsely.