The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (24 page)

As close together as they were, a spicy scent radiated from him to fill her nostrils—something not quite like cinnamon or clove, but with a decidedly Monty-esque feel to it—and she wanted more of it.

He moved closer, and she hadn’t even had to ask him to do so. He lifted his other hand and stroked her cheek delicately, and all sense of reason left her, flittering away into the night sky like fireflies heading towards a lantern. Moving both his hands behind her head, he tenderly tilted her face up even as he brought his down. His lips landed upon hers, soft and supple.

His kiss was undemanding, and yet somehow possessive, lip moving over lip.

There was no need for Monty to demand anything of her at that moment. She held her breath and lifted up on the tips of her toes, seeking more of his tenderness even as every nerve ending within her body yearned to be wrapped up in his arms.

All too soon he broke away, leaving one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, the pad of his thumb tracing circles over the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and a muscle worked over and over again in his jaw.

“
That is how I love you, Georgie,” he said many moments later. “Not as a sister.”

Too many thoughts were swirling through her mind to keep them all sorted: flying in Lord Haworth’s balloon; the favor she would owe Harry; Percy’s ever-mounting debts and ever-declining sense of responsibility; her desire to experience just a hint of adventure before the world all came crashing down on her; the taste left on her lips after Monty kissed her and the tug in her body from his nearness. It was all too much.

Monty stared deep into her eyes, searching as though they could answer him. “Tell me what it is you want, love. Anything at all, and I’ll give it to you.”

But Monty, dear, faithful, honorable Monty, could not give her what she wanted, even if her heart was begging her to let him try.

Georgie shook her head, pulling away from him. She needed some distance between them, enough that she could start to think clearly again. “It isn’t so simple.”

“
Make it simple, then.”

She took a step back, even though she longed to step closer to him again. “I can’t,” she said, and then she spun on her heel and started back towards the supper boxes.

After only three steps, he moved by her side, matching her stride for stride. “Tell me why you wanted to meet Haworth, at least. If you give me nothing else, at least give me that.” Monty took her hand and looped it over his arm as though it belonged there.

It felt right, blast it all, like it had always belonged right where it was, which didn’t make telling him what she did next very easy at all.

“
I wanted to meet Lord Haworth because he has what I want and you do not.”

She could feel Monty wince as they kept walking, but he stayed by her side until he’d returned her to Pippa and the Casemore brothers at the supper box.

Monty gave a slight, formal bow. “Lady Georgianna,” he said stiffly.

He left before the tear slipped past her eye.

Good heavens. What had she done?

Georgie might not be willing to tell Cedric just precisely what it was that she wanted—that elusive
something
which only Haworth supposedly—but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do everything in his power to discover what she was dabbling in and what sort of harm she could come to as a result.

Whether she wanted his help or not, he would be sure she was safe. He had to. Because, devil take it, he loved her. He couldn’t stop loving her simply because she was too proud to admit she needed his help, or too scared to admit she might love him as well. Love had never worked that way. Neither had Cedric.

No, despite her refusal to include him in her plans, he wouldn’t give in so easily.

After leaving her in the care of the Casemore siblings, he stalked off into Vauxhall Gardens, in search of Haworth. If Georgie wouldn’t give him the answers he sought, Haworth damned well would.

At least, that had been Cedric’s plan. In his concern, he’d neglected to remember just how big Vauxhall was. It was huge. Massive. Enormous. He should have remembered that simply for the hour or so he’d already spent in search of Georgie. In all honesty, it was a miracle he’d come upon her at all. The odds had not been in his favor.

He spent the entire night marching through the garden, scouring every inch of the place for a sign of the viscount, but he never caught even the slightest hint of his presence. The dark did not aid his cause, nor did his growing fatigue.

By the time the sun began to rise, Cedric was ready to admit defeat—at least for this battle. He was not prepared to give up on the war. He would never give up, when Georgie’s wellbeing was at stake.

Still, a bit of sleep would do him a great deal of good.

Seeking that end, Cedric left Vauxhall Gardens and headed to his bachelor lodgings on Curzon Street.

As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that whatever Georgie intended to do with Haworth would not happen before noon, at the very earliest.

Georgie’s heart hammered a rapid beat. It was nothing short of a miracle that Eloise couldn’t hear it, but Georgie had no doubt that if the maid
could
hear it, she’d demand to know what might possibly be the cause.

Eloise helped her to slip on her pelisse. She did up the buttons while Eloise took care of her own. The whole time this was happening, she kept rehearsing her act in her mind, hoping Eloise wouldn’t suspect something was amiss. Everything simply must happen according to plan, or all of her efforts would be in vain.

Eloise picked up a parasol and smiled. “I doubt we’ll have any rain today while we walk, but it’s best to be prepared for any eventuality. Are you ready now, my lady?”

“
Yes!” Well, that was a bit more enthusiastic than she’d intended. Georgie took a breath and tried to calm down somewhat, so she wouldn’t reply so hastily again. She smiled. “Let’s be off, shall we?”

Together, they left Georgie’s chamber, made their way down the stairs, and all the way to the front entry hall. The butler and footmen were off in the blue drawing room, rearranging the furnishings just the way Mother wanted them.

Georgie couldn’t ask for more perfect circumstances. “Oh, drat. Eloise, would you be a dear and fetch my new gloves? The ones with the pretty lace trim—they’d match this bonnet perfectly, I believe. I think I left them on the writing table in my chamber.”

“
Right away, my lady.” The maid dipped into a quick curtsey and then scurried up the stairs, without the slightest hesitation.

It was going to work. Without even exerting herself at all, Georgie’s breathing was coming in slight hitches.

As soon as Eloise was out of sight, Georgie shoved her reticule under her arm, darted out the front door, and half-ran down Berkeley Square to the waiting carriage, oblivious to anything around her.

Lord Haworth lifted a brow at her hasty arrival. “Any problems?”

“
No. But we should go before they realize I’ve run off. Eloise will only search for my gloves for a few minutes before she comes down to tell me she can’t find them.”

“
And do you have the money?”

Georgie opened her reticule and removed a small purse, tossing it over to him. “It’s all there. You’ll forgive my brother’s debt, now? And you’ll take me up in your balloon?”

“
Unlike your brother, I always follow through with my promises.” He held out a hand to assist her into the carriage. “So let’s be off.”

By some anomalous quirk of nature or another, Georgie did not trip over herself in her mad scramble to climb aboard his vehicle. She took her seat, clasped her hands together in her lap, and did everything she could to contain the giddy squeal threatening to erupt from her lips.

She was going to fly!

“
Make the pounding stop,” Cedric mumbled into his bedding, wrapping a pillow around his head to cover his ears. The pounding didn’t stop, however.

When he cracked his eyes open, the afternoon sun streaming in through his window was more than enough to leave him blinded. Good God. How long had he been asleep? At the moment, he didn’t even know what day it was.

“
Open the door! Monty, I swear on your future grave if you don’t open this door in the next half second, I’ll plant you a facer so hard you won’t be able to father children.”

That had to be Bridge. Only he and Joshua would speak to him in that way, and the voice was too deep to be Joshua’s. Not only that, but no one else in Cedric’s acquaintance would so grossly misunderstand basic human anatomy.

Cedric dropped his pillow and pushed back the bedding. Bridge? In Town? When had that happened? He was still far too tired to sort through all of that on his own. Scratching his head, he got up and turned the lock.

“
What are y—”

“
It’s Georgie,” Bridge interrupted, pushing past Cedric and into the main room. “She was planning a walk with her maid, but forgot her gloves upstairs. She sent Eloise back up to fetch them, and when Eloise returned, she was gone.”

“
Gone?” Cedric’s fatigue was gone with that one word. He instantly reached for his trousers, pulling them on as fast as he could without falling over from the effort.

Bridge narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you were looking after them.”

“
Me?” he nearly shouted. Bridge had a lot of nerve, to try laying any blame on Cedric.

Last night’s overcoat was draped over a chair, wrinkled, but it would have to do. He put his arms in the sleeves and looked at his friend once again.

He hadn’t seen Bridge in months at this point, and he doubted that in all that time his friend had done much to tend to his appearance. His hair was too long, he was too thin, and there were lines forming on his face. For some reason, his clothes were more haggard and worn than Cedric’s, and he hadn’t spent the entire night trying to sort out the mystery of Georgie’s fascination with Haworth.

In short, Bridge looked like he’d aged decades in the last few months.