Impetuous Innocent. Stephanie Laurens

      GEORGIANA’S DREAM was distinctly disturbing. In it, she had transformed into one of the nymphs depicted in the Fragonard canvas. Together with her unknown sisters, she cavorted freely through a sylvan glade, blushing at the cool drift of the breeze across her naked skin. Abruptly, she halted. Someone was watching her. She glanced around, blushing even more rosily. But there was no one in sight. The sensation of being watched grew. She opened her eyes.

      And gazed bemusedly into eyes of cerulean blue.

      Her gaze widened, and she saw the man behind the eyes. She stopped breathing, no longer sure which was reality and which the dream. For the man watching her, a gleam of undisguised appreciation in the depths of those beautiful blue eyes, was undoubtedly a god. And even more disturbing than her erotic dream. His shoulders were broad, filling her sight, his body long and lean and muscular. His face was strongly featured, yet held the clean lines painters adored. Thick dark hair cloaked his head in elegant waves, softening the effect of his determinedly squared chin. Finely drawn lips held the hint of a disturbing smile. And his eyes, glorious blue, set under strongly arched brows and framed by lashes too long and thick for a man, seemed to hold all the promise of a summer’s afternoon.

      “Oh!” It was the most coherent response she could muster.

      The vision smiled. Georgiana’s heart lurched.

      “You were sleeping so peacefully I was loath to disturb you.”

      The deep tones of his voice enclosed Georgiana in a warmth reminiscent of fine velvet. With an effort, she straightened, forcing her body to behave and her mind to function. “I…I’m so sorry. I must have drifted off. I was waiting for Lady Alton.”

      The gentleman retreated slightly to lean one elegant arm along the mantelpiece, one booted foot resting on the hearth. The blue eyes, disconcertingly, remained trained on her face.

      “I’m desolated to disappoint you.” The smile that went with the words said otherwise. “Allow me to introduce myself. Lord Dominic Alton, entirely at your service.”

      He swept her an elegant bow, blue eyes gleaming.

      “But alas, I’ve yet to marry. There is, therefore, no Lady Alton.”

      “Oh, how unfortunate!”

      The anguished assessment surprised Dominic. He was not used to such a response from personable young women. His lips twitched and his eyes came alight with unholy amusement. “Quite!”

      His tone brought the hazel gaze to his face. But she showed no consciousness of her phrasing. Seeing real consternation in the warm hazel eyes, Dominic rejected the appealing idea of explaining it to her. Clearly, Duckett’s assessment of her state was accurate. She might be sitting calmly, rather than indulging in hysterics, as females were so lamentably prone to do, but he had no doubt she was seriously adrift and knew not which way to turn. The expression in her wide hazel eyes said so. In response, he smiled beguilingly. “But I gather you have some problem. Perhaps I could be of help?”

      His polite query flustered Georgiana. How could she explain…? To a man…?

      “Er—I don’t think…” She rose, clutching her reticule tightly. As she did so, her gaze went beyond Lord Alton to the Fragonard. Georgiana froze. What sort of man, with no wife, hung a scandalous masterpiece in his drawing-room? The answer threatened to scuttle what wits she still possessed.

      Unknown to Georgiana, her thoughts passed clearly across her face, perfectly readable to the accomplished gentleman watching her. All Dominic’s experience told him to accept her withdrawal as the blessed release it doubtless was. But some whimsical and unexpected impulse pushed him to learn what strange story, what quirk of fate, was responsible for depositing such a very delightful morsel on his doorstep. Besides, he didn’t entirely like her assumption that he was powerless to help her. He drew himself to his full height and fixed her with a stern eye. “My dear Miss Hartley, I do hope you’re not about to say you ‘—doubt that I can be of assistance—’ before you’ve even told me the problem.”

      Georgiana blinked. She had, of course, been about to say just that. With the ground cut from under her feet, she struggled to find some acceptable way out.

      Lord Alton was smiling again. Strange, she had never before encountered a smile that warmed her as his did.

      “Please sit down, Miss Hartley. Can I get you some refreshment? No? Well, then, why don’t you just tell me what your problem is? I promise you, I don’t shock easily.”

      Georgiana glanced up, but the blue eyes were innocent. Sinking once more into the wing-chair, she considered her choices. If she insisted on leaving Lord Alton without asking for his advice, where would she go? And, more importantly, how far behind her was Charles? That thought, more than any other, drove her to speak. “I really wanted to ask for some advice…on what I should do, finding myself in the situation I…I now find myself in.” She paused, wondering how detailed her explanation need be.

      “Which is?” came the soft prompt.

      The need to confide in someone was strong. Mentally shrugging, Georgiana threw caution to the winds. “I recently returned to England from the Continent. I’ve lived for the last twelve years in Italy with my father, James Hartley. He died a few months ago, leaving me to the guardianship of my uncle, Ernest Hartley.”

      She looked up. Lord Alton’s expression was sympathetic. He nodded encouragingly. Drawing a deep breath, she continued. “I returned to England immediately. I…didn’t wish to remain in Italy. On my arrival at Hartley Place, I learnt that my uncle had died a month or so before my father. My cousin Charles owns the Place now.” Georgiana hesitated.

      “I’m slightly acquainted with Charles Hartley, if that’s any help. I might add that I would not consider him a fit person for a young lady such as yourself to share a roof with.”

      His cool, impersonal tone brought a blush to Georgiana’s cheek.

      Seeing it, Dominic knew he had struck close to the truth.

      Keeping her eyes fixed on the empty fireplace, Georgiana struggled on. “I’m afraid…that is to say, Charles seems to have developed a fixation. In short,” she continued, desperation lending her words, “he has been trying to force me to marry him. I left the house this morning, very early.”

      She glanced up and, to her surprise, found no difficulty in meeting his lordship’s blue gaze. “I’ve no one in England I can turn to, my lord. I was hoping to ask your wife for advice as to what I should do.”

      Dominic’s gaze rested on the heart-shaped face and large honey-gold eyes turned so trustingly towards him. For some perverse reason, he knew he was going to help her. Ignoring the inner voice which whispered he was mad even to contemplate such a thing, he asked, “Have you any particular course of action in mind?”

      “Well, I did think of going to London. I thought perhaps I could become a companion to some lady.”

      Dominic forcibly repressed a shudder. Such a glorious creature would have no luck in finding that sort of employment. She was flexing her fingers, her attention momentarily distracted. His eyes slid gently over her figure. The grey dress she wore fitted well, outlining a pair of enticingly sweet breasts, young and firm and high. Her skin was perfect—peaches and cream. As she was seated, he had no way of judging her legs, although, by the evidence of her slender feet, he suspected they would prove to be long and slim. Her waist was hidden by the fall of her dress, but the swell of her hips was unmistakable. If Georgiana Hartley became stranded in London, he could guess where she’d end. Which, all things considered, would be a great shame. Her candid gaze returned to his face.

      “I have my own maid and coachman. I thought that might help.”

      Help? A companion with her own maid and coachman? Dominic managed to keep his face impassive. There was no point in telling her how ludicrous her ideas were, for she wasn’t going to hire out as a companion. Not if he had anything to say in the matter. The wretched life most paid companions led, neither servant nor family, stranded