The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (22 page)

“
To some clandestine meeting, I’d guess. Berks informed me tonight that Harry is a wolf. I had no idea.”

Georgie had to force herself not to blink in a daze at the wolf comment, as she’d recently had a discussion with none other than Harry about wolves. How very odd. She mentally shook the thought from her head. “And you thought if you went along with his plan of sitting in the box, that we’d do what we liked after he departed?” Please, God, let that be Pippa’s plan. Then everything would go smoothly tonight.

A wide grin stole over Pippa’s face. “You really do know me very well.”

Georgie pursed her lips and nodded. Of course she did. She knew almost
everything
very well, whether she wanted to or not. “So what do you want to see? The Indian temples? The spring gardens?” She made a point of
not
mentioning the Chinese pavilion.

“
Let’s just head back the way we came.”

And so they did. After they exited the box and started making their way through the crowd towards the entrance, a poorly garbed man bumped into Pippa and muttered, “Sorry, mum,” and then disappeared back into the throng.

“
One could get lost here and never find their way out,” Georgie said beneath her breath.

She never would have expected Pippa’s response—to squeeze tight onto Georgie’s arm and say, “Isn’t it grand?”

Gracious! Did she
want
to get lost tonight? That would be utterly perfect if she did, because that would make it all the more easy for Georgie to sneak off and meet Harry! She laughed, but didn’t trust herself to say anything more, lest she give away her glee over the ideas racing through her mind.

They drew near the grove, but then someone reached out and grabbed Pippa. Georgie fought to avoid screaming and somehow managed it.

“
My lord,” Pippa said a moment later, in that breathy, dreamy voice she’d used earlier when speaking of her Lord Colebrooke, and the same faraway look came into her eyes. That left little for Georgie to discern.

It was good to finally see the man, however. He was quite a handsome devil. She could see what all of Pippa’s fuss was about, now.

“
My dear Lady Philippa,” he responded, with an equal amount of ardor in his tone.

Good heavens, she felt like she was in the middle of the illicit tryst Harry was supposedly off to have. She cleared her throat to remind them of her presence.

“
Oh!” Pippa cried as she looked over at Georgie, her expression sheepish. “Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe, this is Viscount Colebrooke.”

“
My lady,” Colebrook said smoothly, inclining his head. “You are Stalbridge’s sister?”

Georgie scowled, but nodded. “Do you know my brother?”

Colebrooke started to respond, but then stopped himself and frowned. “Only by reputation.”

The whole
ton
and all of England, and quite possibly half the Continent knew of Percy by reputation, so that was hardly a surprise. Still, Georgie was unable to stop the wince. She pushed the uncomfortable thoughts of her brother and his exploits aside. Colebrooke was providing her with the perfect excuse to escape Pippa and meet Harry at the Chinese pavilion. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to take advantage of the opportunity provided to her.

“
Even through all these people, I do see someone I know. Will you excuse me?” She didn’t wait for their response, but simply left, disappearing into the crush as quickly as she could.

“
Georgie!” Pippa called out after her. She sounded sincerely concerned, but Georgie didn’t stop.

She didn’t want to keep Harry waiting, after all. He might increase his yet-to-be-determined fee, if she did.

“
I always thought you were the level-headed one of the bunch,” Cedric grumbled as he half-dragged Patience Findley back to the supper boxes.

“
I always have been.”

Her tone indicated she had no intention of remaining that way any longer. What in God’s name had gotten into these girls? No, ladies. They weren’t girls any longer, and that was the truly terrifying part of it.

He’d arrived at Vauxhall in search of Georgie, who was supposed to be with Pippa Casemore and her brothers. Yet when Cedric went to their supper box, neither Georgie nor Pippa was present. Lord Harrison Casemore, likewise, was missing, and Berkswell was at a loss as to the location of any of the three of them.

So Cedric had set off to look for Georgie, leaving Berkswell pacing in agitation in front of his box.
Pacing,
of all things! What good would that do? Did the blasted marquess not realize the danger his sister and Georgie could each be in? One would think, after the scandal of both young ladies’ names being written in the book at White’s, that one would recognize how close to ruin they each were…and therefore one might be a bit more careful with the shreds of dignity remaining of their reputations.

Yet Berkswell simply paced.

Even now, as Cedric hauled yet another of Georgie’s friends from Broadmoor Academy (one whom, he might note, also had her name in the book at White’s, as did their fourth friend, Lady Moira Kirkwood, for Christ’s sake) back to her cousin’s supper box after finding her alone on one of the dark walks with Lord Swaffham in a rather compromising position, all Berkswell could do was pace.

It was downright infuriating.

Cedric barreled up the steps to Rowan Findley’s box and planted his young cousin before him. “Findley,” he clipped off. “You’ll want to have her father arrange for the banns to be called starting tomorrow.”

Patience flushed, which only stood out all the more because of her long, black hair and pale skin. For some confounding reason, she smiled a bit sheepishly at her cousin.

Cedric didn’t realize how terse his tone was until Findley looked back and forth between him and young Patience with a question in his gaze. Not outrage, just curiosity. Good God.

“
Lord Swaffham
will be over to speak with him and arrange matters as soon as possible, I’m sure,” he rushed on, so there would be no doubts that
he
was not the future bridegroom. A shudder ran through his body at the idea. He couldn’t imagine marrying Patience, or really any of Georgie’s friends. He couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but Georgie.

At that, he nearly fell over from shock. Marry Georgie? Where had that idea come from? He couldn’t fathom it, and he couldn’t stand there any longer while he tried to sort it out…not when he still hadn’t found his quarry, and Haworth might well be out there, as well.

“
Right. Well, then, I’ll leave you to it. See you handle matters with her father, Findley.”

“
And a good evening to you, Montague.”

A good evening? Hardly. At the moment, he was praying it wouldn’t be a catastrophic evening.

Georgie was more than just a bit winded by the time Harry slowed his pace on the dark walks. Breathless with anticipation might be a more apt description.

He turned another corner, paused and looked around, and then nodded and pressed on in that direction. “Almost there. You’re certain you haven’t changed your mind?”

If she didn’t go through with this, she would spend an eternity wondering what might have happened if she had. “I haven’t changed my mind.” And she hadn’t, despite the growing flutters of eager expectancy twittering through every limb of her body.

They kept going, wending their way through the myriad twists and turns the path led them on.

When they passed beneath one of the few lanterns scattered about, he stopped again so suddenly that Georgie almost ran straight into him from behind. Without turning, Harry dropped his voice low and said, “This is your last opportunity to have second thoughts. Haworth is just around the bend.”

She really wished he would stop giving her the chance to retreat. “I’m starting to wonder if perhaps
you
aren’t the one having doubts about this.”

He turned then and flashed a roguish grin. “I never have doubts.”

Georgie straightened her spine and lifted her chin in as haughty a manner as she could muster. “Neither do I. Shall we?”

“
As you wish,” he replied with a wink, sweeping his arm towards a clearing.

Looking out over the expanse, she caught a glimpse of him. Haworth was leaning against the trunk of an oak, smoking a cheroot, its glowing end a stark contrast to the near-black night.

Georgie tried to take a step towards him, but her feet seemed to suddenly be stuck, as though weighted down by marble.

Harry chuckled beside her. “I thought you never had doubts.”

She took the time to grant him one brief scowl, and then forcefully lifted a foot, beginning her trek across the way with Harry by her side.

When they drew close enough to hear one another without shouting, Harry lifted a hand in greeting. “A good evening to you, Haworth.”

The viscount tossed his cheroot to the ground and stubbed it with the toe of his boot. “You said you were bringing someone who had business dealings with me tonight, Casemore.” His voice was gruff, and more than just slightly perturbed.

This was not a good beginning. Why would Harry have told him such a thing? Georgie glanced at him in a bit of a panic, but in the moonlight, she was unable to deduce anything in his expression.

“
And that I’ve done,” Harry said jovially. “Lord Haworth, meet Lady Georgianna Bexley-Smythe. My lady, this is Viscount Haworth.”

A grunting sort of sound came from Haworth. “Bexley-Smythe?” He shook his head, his dark, short-cropped locks swaying gently in the cool night air. “The only Bexley-Smythe I have business with is Stalbridge himself, and he hasn’t bothered to grace Town with his presence as of yet so we can settle it as gentlemen.”

Blast! Percy owed Haworth a debt, too? Was there a man in all of London her brother hadn’t swindled or hoodwinked in some way? Her hopes of flying in Lord Haworth’s gas balloon seemed to be dissipating into the fine layer of mist that had descended upon the night.

She couldn’t give up without at least trying, however. “I can assure you, Lord Haworth,” she said, though her voice faltered, “my business with you is my own.”

He took two bounding steps closer to her, eyes ablaze, and it required every last blessed ounce of Georgie’s fortitude not to burrow into Harry’s side and beg his protection.

Haworth narrowed his eyes at her, looking down at her in a bit of a sneer. “What business could you, a young lady hardly out of the schoolroom, have with me?”

“
I’m rather inclined to ask the same question,” Harry piped in. “We’re both waiting on pins and needles for your answer, Lady Georgianna.”