Miss George's Second Chance (3 page)

She stood and reached for her walking stick, using it to guide her through the house and down the stairs. She’d fallen just last week due to a careless misplacement of a chair and she wasn’t quite so confident when she moved around still. Guided by the number of steps she took, she moved to the sitting room, took a place beside the window on her favorite wide couch and waited for her brother’s return. They always discussed the latest treatments presented by the fellows he brought to her. Today she was determined to make him stop his search for more.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“You could have at least heard him out,” Walter grumbled as he fell into the chair opposite with a great crash.

“What was the point? They all say the same thing. Bed rest, a daily sip of a potion so vile it should not be inhaled, and faith that I will see again. I’m tired of it all. Please don’t bring another stranger home with you again.”

She heard the heavy sigh and the creak of furniture as her brother shifted. “Very well. No more strangers.”

Although that might sound like a promise, Imogen knew better than to believe her brother would give up entirely. He’d been all she could have hoped for. He even accepted why she had entered and ended her engagement to Peter Watson so quickly last summer without argument.

“Good.” Imogen kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. “Now, what are you doing for the rest of today? I hope you’re not planning to loiter about in case you’re needed again.”

Walter’s chair creaked. “I don’t like to leave you all alone so much.”

Imogen grinned. “I won’t be alone today. Miss Radley sent a note ‘round saying she was coming to call. No doubt she has juicy gossip after the ball last night so I should be well entertained.”

“Good,” Walter said. “As long as it’s not Miss Merton coming to call with her. I will not have that woman in this house ever again.”

Imogen sighed. “Really, brother. You must make allowances for petty ignorance. I blame Miss Merton’s parents for her groundless fears. As if blindness was catching. Her elder brother is an enlightened man. Perhaps in time Merton can convince her I am not diseased.”

In truth, Melanie Merton’s ignorance had been a startling shock at first. Her former acquaintance would not even stand beside her now. Imogen was very glad not to see the expression on the woman’s face anymore but she could hear the odd tremble in her voice from time to time when their paths crossed. Most days, she strove to ignore it.

“I thought she had a brain in her head,” Walter said savagely. Walter could not seem to follow her example.

Imogen hated it when Walter became upset and searched for a way to change his mood. “Well, perhaps it was on holiday when she learned the news about my loss of sight. I forgave her a long time ago. Surely you can do the same.”

A
humph
was all he managed.

Imogen held out her hand and her brother quickly took her small one in his. She squeezed. “Get along with you now and enjoy the day. Don’t come home smelling like the bottom of a barrel. My sense of smell is very keen now.”

He kissed her cheek. “Miss Merton’s a fool but we’ve an invitation to dine with them tonight. Valentine believes that time will prove her fears groundless. I won’t allow you to hide from her as if she is right.”

Imogen shook her head. “Be sure to offer my apologies. Don’t argue. You know you’ll only lose.”

Another deep grumbling sigh and Walter withdrew from the room with a reluctant farewell. He thudded around the entrance hall and then the front door opened and closed with a heavy crash. Imogen clenched her hands together, disappointment and resolve filling her. Dinner parties were utterly impossible. She didn’t dine before others anymore as there had been too many messy accidents in the past, moments where nervous laughter was smothered but heard anyway as she accidentally scraped food onto the tablecloth or knocked over a wineglass. However, she did miss the lively conversation that often sprung up between her neighbors. They were such a complex range of characters, all playing out their lives with no idea she’d been studying their every sly look or indiscretion and basing the occasional character on their foibles.

She rested her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the loud ticking of the clock while she sat doing nothing. In the past, these quiet moments alone with her thoughts had helped her solve problems in her story telling. But now that she could not write, her story ideas only tormented her with no hope of release.

A floorboard creaked, and even though she couldn’t possibly see, she opened her eyes.

“Drat,” a feminine voice muttered close by. “Still not quiet enough to get by you undetected.”

“Honestly, Julia, that’s not a nice trick to play on a blind woman.” Imogen scowled but found her friend’s attempts to fool her sweetly endearing. Julia Radley meant no harm and it gave them something else to talk about besides gossip. The exuberant young lady was the perfect distraction on a dull day.

“I’m testing your hearing,” Julia warned her footfalls coming closer. “You claim it’s superior now that your sight has deserted you, but you didn’t notice my arrival over the noise of your brother’s departure. You’ve a way to go before you can claim pre-eminence yet.”

Imogen laughed and held out her hand. “How are you today?”

Julia took it before thumping onto the cushion at her side. “Oh, well enough.” She wriggled around at Imogen’s side and the sound of a twig snapping reached Imogen’s ears. “How did that get there? Never mind. I definitely think I can make it out my window and scale the trellis in less than half a minute. I’ve done it twice already today.”

Imogen raised an eyebrow. Julia enjoyed setting herself impossible challenges. Her latest scheme was attempting to escape her house unnoticed and by any unconventional methods possible. Climbing out the window was new though. “In a gown?”

“Of course in a gown.” There was a pause. “I did acquire a pair of Linus’ old breeches before I made the attempt, adjusted so they would stay securely affixed to my waist and wore them underneath my gown.”

Imogen pressed her hand to her chest in horror but laughed anyway. There was nothing Julia wouldn’t do to escape being a complete lady. “A wise precaution. Suitably scandalous but at least if you fall and become entangled in the trellis there’s not a chance of your rescuer seeing more than he should.”

Julia tutted. “As if I’d need rescue.”

She squeezed the hand she held, imagining Julia’s indignant face. The only person who would need rescue would be the gentleman Julia set her heart on to marry. Her friend hadn’t mentioned anyone for the past year, not since Imogen’s own marital prospects had ended, but it was only a matter of time before the young woman singled out a handsome, dashingly romantic man she meant to sweep off his feet. “What shall we talk about today?”

“I have news.” Julia grasped her hands tightly and shook them up and down in her excitement. “My challenge to race one of the boys has finally been accepted and the date is set. Tuesday at noon.”

Dread filled Imogen as Julia paused, her breath rushed. A year ago, Julia had dared the gentlemen of the street to a swimming race in the ocean and been refused. At the time, no one had believed the challenge was worth the effort or the notoriety such a scandalous activity would bring down upon those involved. Imogen had hoped the matter had been forgotten. “Who accepted?”

“On that, I am sworn to secrecy until the very moment of our race though I am bursting to tell you every exciting detail. He threatened to change his mind if so much as a whisper of his name was heard. I’d be cross with him if the idea of beating him wasn’t so appealing.”

Imogen clutched Julia’s hands. “Please think of the consequences. You may ruin your reputation so badly that no decent man would marry you.”

Julia huffed softly. “Well, I wouldn’t want to marry a man who thought my reputation ruined by a bit of harmless sport. For years now our brothers and their friends have lorded their sporting prowess over us and it is time to challenge them to prove it. Will you come or not? It would mean so much to me if you were there to see my triumph.”

Imogen pulled her hand back into her lap. What she dreaded most was stumbling about in public. The constant worry that her escort would forget and desert her sent an uncontrollable panic through her every time she considered the chances. Walter wasn’t always the most attentive brother. “You know I will not be able to see your victory.”

Her hand was caught up again. “I know but please. It would mean so much to have a friendly face in the crowd. Come on, Imogen. You hardly ever leave the house. I will miss hearing your thoughts about the race and what you discover is said from the shoreline.”

When Julia pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, Imogen’s resolve to remain apart from society cracked. If Julia was prepared to resort to sweet kindness to get her way, which she usually avoided, Imogen may as well admit defeat before the poor girl embarrassed herself. Nothing stood in Julia’s way when she had a goal in mind. “Very well. I’ll do my best to be there. Now tell me the particulars so I can convince my brother to deliver me to the beach to watch. Or listen as in my case.”

Julia quickly told Imogen the plan for the event without slipping out the tiniest detail of whom she was competing against. The girl knew how to keep a secret, but Imogen still worried. “Who knows,” Julia continued, “you may catch the eye of a chivalrous gentleman and be swept off your feet by his attentiveness.”

Although her fears for the event outweighed her own misgivings, Imogen had to laugh at her friend’s unwavering support. Until her sight had been lost, she had never known truer friends than Abigail Watson and Julia Radley. Imogen caught Julia’s hand as tears filled her eyes. “Dearest Julia. You are such an optimist. How many times must we have this discussion? That part of my life is over. No man would marry a blind woman if he had a better choice.”

“Maybe Sir Peter will come back and be moved by your situation.”

Imogen shook her head sadly. Julia had never lost her faith that her one-time-betrothed would return to Brighton and be so distressed by her condition that he would immediately propose and swear his undying devotion. But Peter had moved up in the world and moved on with his charmed life. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since she had ended their betrothal. Even Abigail did not write of him and she’d never dared ask. “I couldn’t bear to be married now and I am certain Sir Peter has many more pressing concerns. I’m sure he’s never given me a second thought.”

No, Peter was happier as he was living a life full of fun and adventure. Her chest tightened with sadness. At least she hoped so. One of them deserved to see the world.

CHAPTER THREE

Sunshine and the scent of the restless sea filled Peter’s nostrils the moment he stepped from his hired carriage and looked along Cavendish Place. Despite the improvement in his situation, his fortune and title of baronet, it was good to be home again among familiar sights and sounds of Brighton.

London for all its amusements wasn’t where his heart longed to be. He’d tried to carve a place in society and had never found contentment. The most enjoyment he’d found was discussing books with the proprietors in London’s bookshops.

He smiled at the memory. The booksellers were astounded he was acquainted with the author K.D. Brahms. He’d dodged any questions that might accidentally reveal the author was a woman—one whom he’d almost married—and discussed the lack of the next volume. There hadn’t been a new story published in a year and he, along with everyone else in society, was keen to find out when the next could be delivered. Surely Imogen would tell him if he asked nicely. There had to be some advantage to keeping her writing life a closely guarded secret.

He looked along the street, noticing more than one head pressing to the window glass. Friends waved and promptly disappeared again, giving Peter the hope he’d see them shortly. He wanted to see all his neighbors, too. Even the pretty, dark-haired petite one who had rejected the idea of marrying him the moment his financial future was assured. Surely there was no need for them to be strangers to each other.

The door to his abode wrenched open and his servants, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, stood gaping at him. “Why didn’t you say you were coming, sir?” Mrs. Simpson wailed the complaint, wiping her hands on her spotless apron. “I’m not ready.”

“Not ready to serve my favorite beef stew and dumplings with lemon pudding to sweeten my palate?” He grinned at his housekeeper. “Come now. I’m not falling for that.”

He shook their hands, very glad to see them looking well and happy, and stepped aside as the hired carriage grooms tramped inside with his possessions. He pressed coins into the grooms’ hands. “The Rose and Crown will serve you well if you’re to stay overnight. Try to stay out of trouble. The proprietor is a good man and a friend.”

“Thank you, sir.” They grinned and returned to the carriage, leaving Peter to his own devices. He stepped across the threshold and breathed a sigh of relief. Home. No invitations to stuffy balls, no simpering debutants to be agreeable with, and far less rules to follow. He couldn’t believe he’d stayed away so long.

Nothing had changed in the house and that was exactly how he liked it.

“Where the devil have you been?”