Read The Ice Duchess: Scandalous Regency Widows, Book 2 for Free Online Page B

signifies,” she replied stiffly, “as I’m not interested in cultivating any sort of relationship with another man. Least of all someone like him.”
    “Really?” Jonathon’s voice quivered with sudden mirth. “Then why did you let Markham kiss you?”
    Georgie huffed out an exasperated sigh. There was no point insisting that Markham hadn’t kissed her when Jonathon had seen her emerge all flustered from the shrubbery-screened corner of the terrace with fir needles in her hair. As to why she’d let Markham talk her into such an encounter... No, she still didn’t want to think about it. “It was the champagne and well... Markham is devilishly handsome.” She was willing to concede that much. “But it was only one kiss. And that is all there will ever be between us.”
    “But what if you could have more? You might not want another husband but surely—”
    “I don’t need more of anything, Jonathon,” she bit back. “Why won’t you drop this subject? I don’t want to talk about Markham any longer. Besides, I have a fiendish headache.” She leaned back against the squabs again and rubbed her fingertips up and down along her temple to prove her point.
    “All right. I’ll drop it... for now. But promise me you won’t hare off to Harrow Hall tomorrow. You need to rest by the looks of you. I pray you’re not coming down with something after all.”
    “You are such the mother hen,” Georgie chided but without any real venom this time. She opened her eyes and attempted a small smile. “And I promise I won’t bolt. Not tomorrow at any rate.” She really did feel unwell. Shivery with an achy back, and the beginnings of a scratchy throat. Perhaps she had caught a simple chill. Probably from lingering on cold, wet terraces and standing in the rain.But she wouldn’t mention how she truly felt because she didn’t want to worry Jonathon unduly.
    Jonathon reached out and touched her hand again. “Good.”
    The carriage slowed and Georgie glanced out the window. By the glow of the lamplights she could clearly discern the marble Corinthian columns flanking the portico of Dudley House, their rather grand four-story townhouse—an unentailed bequest from Teddy. Perhaps having a cold would work to her advantage—she could hardly attend any social events if she was unwell. And then she could legitimately claim she needed to retreat to Harrow-on-the-Wold to take the country air.
    With any luck, Markham would have disappeared to resume his mysterious overseas duties—whatever they may be—by the time she returned to London for the Season proper next year.
    After Georgie had alighted from the carriage, Jonathon took her arm. “It’s lovely to see you smiling again,” he said in a low voice as they ascended the stairs into the inviting warmth of the vestibule, “although I suspect it’s not just because we’re home.”
    Georgie arched an eyebrow as she shrugged off her wet shawl and handed it to Reed, their stalwart butler. “Oh? Whatever do you mean?”
    “Despite what you said before, you’re hatching an escape plan. I know it,” he murmured after Reed had disappeared with their wet things.
    Georgie yawned theatrically behind her gloved hand. “The only place I’m escaping to right now is my bedchamber. Good night.”
    Jonathon’s blue eyes suddenly twinkled with mischief. “Good night to you too, sis. I’m sure you’ll have sweet dreams.”
    Georgie didn’t miss his cheeky jibe. She sniffed then stalked off toward the stairs with as much poise as she could muster given her body was aching more with each passing moment. She’d send Constance, her maid, to fetch some warm milk or even better, an urn of hot water and her tea caddy so she could brew some of her favorite herbal tea, a special blend of chamomile and valerian that never failed to soothe her. With any luck, she’d sleep soundly and have no dreams at all.
    She certainly wasn’t going to dream of the mysterious, odious, Lord