She’d never discussed intimate matters with her mother, but having lived in the countryside, she had a fair idea of the basic mechanics of procreation. The idea that the man’s member must surely fit inside the woman, however—as a stallion fitted into a mare when he covered her—was so preposterous that she couldn’t truly imagine it. Clearly, the place where Benedict had put his fingers was the same place he would fit into her body. But judging from the size of the appendage she’d felt through his breeches, such a thing was impossible. Georgie’s cheeks flamed. The very thought made her hot and achy … and slightly apprehensive.

Did a man need to mount behind the woman, like a horse? It seemed unlikely, but she supposed she would find out this evening. Benedict had promised that she would enjoy it, and she trusted him.

When they pulled up at the Tricorn Club, he stepped down and rested his arm on the carriage door. His expression promised all manner of wickedness. He lifted her arm to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Until later, Mrs. Wylde.”

Chapter 29.

Georgie attended the Evans’ rout that evening with the sole aim of taking her leave as quickly as possible. She’d already mentioned to her mother that she thought she had a headache coming on. And then she caught sight of Benedict, heart stoppingly handsome in dark evening clothes, conversing with his friends on the opposite side of the room. Heat raced over her skin. What was he doing here?

He glanced up as her name was announced and caught her eye. His too-innocent smile made her stomach flutter. What game was he playing now?

She pretended to ignore him and seethed impatiently for a full twenty minutes before he made his leisurely way across the room and bowed low before her mother. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Mrs. Caversteed.”

Her mother smiled warmly. “Good evening, Mr. Wylde. How good to see you. I’m afraid Juliet is dancing with Lord Birkenhead at present, but—”

“I was hoping the elder Miss Caversteed might honor me with a dance.”

Mother sent Georgie a look that was part congratulatory, part surprise. “Oh, of course. I’m sure she’d be delighted. Off you go, dear.”

Wylde chuckled as he steered her toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing here?” Georgie whispered. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

“I’m upholding my side of our bargain. You’re paying me to court you publicly. So here we are. Courting. In public.” He sent her an admiring look that nobody watching could fail to interpret, and Georgie cursed the day she’d ever suggested the foolish idea. Yes, they needed to prepare the ton for an announcement, but she hadn’t envisaged how difficult it would be to pretend to be strangers under society’s ever-watchful gaze.