Divine by Nichole van Page A

Georgiana blinked at the basket, her eyes widening. Obviously, she had hoped to never see it again.
    “Yes—yes it is. I had a governess who was quite accomplished in paper filigree and insisted I learn the art.”
    Here Georgiana gave a polite little laugh.
    “Miss Knight is a most accomplished quiller,” Sebastian said with a guileless smile.
    Georgiana shot him a warning look, her expression freezing.
    Sebastian tried to keep his expression innocent but, as his smile morphed into a roguish grin, he was not sure he succeeded.
    “How charming, Miss Knight,” Miss Mica/Michaelina said. “I know we all simply adore paper filigree. You must join us. Why I daresay we could spend the entire day quilling.” All the Miss Burbanks nodded their heads at this.
    “Indeed? That is . . . remarkable. Did you know that Lord Stratton is a tremendous admirer of quill work?”
    Georgiana turned and beamed at him, shifting slightly to press her foot down on the top of his boot. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to make her point.
    He grinned right back, his smile definitely mischievous now. If she thought he found her teasing annoying, she was far off track.
    The ladies’ heads were almost like a line of kittens, flashing back and forth between Georgiana and him.
    She turned back to the ladies. “I hear Lord Stratton’s favorite subject for filigree is fruit,” she deadpanned.
    “Fruit? Really?” Sebastian only just managed to keep from laughing.
    “With faces on them. Particularly gooseberries.”
    The Miss Burbanks all nodded in unison, obviously already composing paper filigree in their heads. Sebastian saw an army of smiling gooseberries in his future.
    “Ah, Miss Knight, you know me too well. I look most forward to seeing your own charming fruitful example.”
    He trapped her hand resting on the sofa. With a languid smile, he raised her knuckles to his lips in a careful salute. Her eyes widened in warning.
    “You are all politeness, Lord Stratton,” she said, tugging her hand free.
    “No, merely truthful.”
    “You should know that I am only skilled in rendering lemons.”
    “Perfect.”
    “Truly? Oblong, boring, acidic. Lots of yellow.”
    “Lemons are the most romantic fruit of all.”
    “Lemons? I think that most poets would beg to disagree with that assessment.” She folded her hands primly in her lap.
    “Oh, I think not.”
    “Many would consider the pomegranate to be the most romantic fruit.”
    “There the masses are wrong.”
    “Not oranges or strawberries? Even the humble gooseberry is more likely to inspire amorous feelings.”
    “No. It is most decidedly lemons.”
    “Indeed? I had always considered them to be quite sour.”
    “Exactly so, Miss Knight. Therein lies their charm.”
    She cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him. He let his slow smile creep across his face, hoping it was as disarming as some claimed it to be.
    He leaned toward her and whispered, low and quiet for her, and her alone, to hear.
    “I find lemons make my lips . . . pucker.”
    Georgiana caught her breath at that, the tiniest of catches expanding her ribs, the slightest flaring of her eyes.
    She did not, however, blush.
    Which was somewhat odd. The Georgiana of his youth would have flushed bright pink at such a statement.
    Instead, she gave him a quelling look and pressed her heel into his foot again.
    Sebastian turned back to see the entire room staring at them. Phillips, Arthur and Marianne grinning good naturedly.
    The rest of the ladies . . . not so much. Lady Michael and Lady Ambrosia seemed ready to spit daggers, and even Mr. Snickers had a mean little look in his eye.
    The sooner he convinced Miss Georgiana Knight to marry him, the better.
     

     
    Georgiana’s bedroom
    Haldon Manor
    Early morning hours on August 28, 1813
    Birthday in minus 42 days
     
    . . . Wrap me in the light of your love . . .
    That impossibly enigmatic letter.
    Arthur had been quite dismissive of it. Troublesome indeed! Neither of her