The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (18 page)

She could just pretend that she’d seen Lord Haworth across the way at a ball (which, admittedly, she had) and was interested in gaining an introduction as she found him terribly handsome or some other silly, flippant sort of thing Lord Harrison would expect of a debutante like his sister.

Before she could finalize her plans in her mind, however, he was sighing and returning his attention to the other revelers, and Patience tugged Pippa back into their circle of four. “What
did
happen last night?”

Pippa shook her head, a woeful expression planted squarely on her face. “I don’t remember a thing. I don’t even remember arriving at the Heathfields’. I don’t remember encountering Mr. Potsdon. I don’t remember St. Austell.”

“
He is quite handsome,” Moira piped in with a wicked gleam in her eye. “Pity he’s not a Scot.”

“
So you said earlier,” Pippa said on a sigh, “but I can’t believe he would even hold a candle to Lord Colebrooke.”

All four of them then returned their attention to the entrance. Pippa was likely searching for her Colebrooke, and Moira was doubtless searching for a Scot. Georgie pretended to be aiding them in their search…but she was merely looking for Lord Haworth and racking her brain for a means by which to gain an introduction to him.

Several others came in and were announced, and then, “Lord Brody McTavish,” was called out.

Georgie looked up and fought to hold in a snicker. The man was shorter than any of her friends, but was as wide as he was tall. There was a decided lack of hair atop his head. He was far from the Scot of Moira’s dreams, but Georgie nudged her anyway. “There is your Scot.”

Moira’s face dropped in dejection. “This may be more difficult than I thought.”

Much as Georgie’s plan to meet Haworth and fly in his gas balloon seemed to be. Gracious, why had she decided on
this
as her planned adventure for the Season? Surely there were other things she could do to escape the overwhelming knowledge taking over her mind. Simpler things to accomplish, at least.

Moments later, Moira’s brother came along and collected her, and then Pippa and Patience were each claimed by various acquaintances as well. Georgie was left entirely alone.

She took a look around her, searching first for Monty and then for Haworth. Finding neither, she set off.

Just what was she off to do? Cedric had to stifle a laugh at the secretive manner in which Georgie was bustling about the Davenport ballroom. She’d take a furtive glance around her, then dash off into a quiet alcove hidden behind potted plants, and then steal another look. After a moment or two, she’d repeat the process, only this time ending up trying to somehow blend her white gown in with the gold and rose-colored walls of the ballroom. Once, she even darted behind a group of servants and tried to make herself unnoticeable—even going so far as to take a tray of lemonade glasses from a bewildered maid and carry it with her to her next destination, depositing it on a table as calm as may be.

A successful spy, his Georgie would never be. He was having a far too easy time of following her every movement, perplexing though they may be.

Truly, he ought to be more disconcerted by Georgie’s dismaying behavior. Indeed, if Haworth were here tonight, Cedric would be far more concerned. As things stood, however, he couldn’t help but be highly amused at her antics.

Not to mention curious. And while it might be true that curiosity killed the cat, Cedric was not presently a cat, nor had he ever been, if memory served.

What could he do but attempt to assuage his curiosity?

So when Georgie sneaked behind a potted fern, cast her eyes about briefly, and then dashed down an abandoned corridor, Cedric had no choice, really, but to follow her.

Once he’d made his way through the throng of people near the refreshment table and out into the corridor, however, she had disappeared from sight.

Damn and blast, where had she gotten off to? Perhaps she was stealthier than he’d initially thought.

Taking great care to keep his boots from echoing along the marbled floor, he hurriedly searched every inch of the corridor, listening at doorways for any sign he might find of Georgie’s whereabouts.

At one closed door to the right, he heard the unmistakable sounds of an illicit tryst. She’d damned well better not be behind that door.

No, Georgie might be a bit naïve, but she wasn’t an imbecile. She wouldn’t allow herself to be ruined in that way. Cedric shook his head to clear the image from his mind and moved on.

A few feet down the way on the opposite side of the corridor, he pressed his ear up against the door. The deep rumble of gentlemen’s laughter came his way, so he moved on.

After passing several more doorways with similar results, finally, Cedric caught sight of a scrap of white fabric peeking out into the corridor from an alcove.

“
Caught you,” he mumbled to himself, not loud enough for the sound to reach Georgie’s ears. Moving on little more than the tips of his toes, he gradually moved closer to her, inch by inch, step by step…until he could reach out and grab her.

Yet startling her might not be his best course of action. If he were to grab her, she might very well scream—and he didn’t know what she was eavesdropping on or why, though he could hear the slightest hint of masculine voices coming from within the chamber.

No, instead of pulling her away from the alcove bodily, Cedric made certain he was close enough she would hear him and then cleared his throat quietly.

Slowly, Georgie spun on her slippers and faced him, her rich, brown eyes as wide as he’d ever seen them in her shock.

How in God’s name had Monty found her? Georgie had been supremely diligent in making certain no one had seen her as she’d followed Lord Northwood and Lord Sackville into the corridor. She’d overheard them speaking about Lord Haworth in the ballroom, so what choice did she have but to sneak after them and glean what little information she could from their conversation?

Not that she’d learned anything about Haworth. After the gentlemen’s one brief mention of meeting him at their club earlier in the day, they’d moved on to the incredibly exciting discussions of crop rotation (a subject which had, quite literally, bored Georgie to tears ever since she’d read
Observations on a Tour Through Almost the Whole of England
by Mr. Dibdin, when she was all of ten years old) and politics (which
could
at times be interesting, if two opposing viewpoints were in play—but Lords Northwood and Sackville were in perfect agreement on every political matter, thereby nullifying any sense of interest).

In fact, she was just about to give up on discerning where she might find Lord Haworth from these two gentlemen when Monty pounced on her from behind.

She opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of him sneaking up behind her, but he silenced her by placing his forefinger over her lips and whispering, “Hush.”

The brief contact set her head to reeling and sent a trail of shivers coursing down her spine, leaving her fully unnerved. How was it possible for him to so thoroughly disarm her, with just the simplest touch? Georgie blinked in dismay.

He gestured towards the door, shook his head, and took hold of her elbow, pulling her away from the alcove and further into the corridor. The heat of his hand left an unfamiliar tingling sensation on her skin, which then traveled all over her arm all the way to the tips of her fingers. What on earth was happening to her?

They came to the end of that hall and Georgie was certain he would come to a stop, but Monty tugged her around the corner and kept walking. Even though her legs were longer than those of the average lady, she was huffing in her efforts to keep up with him.

Finally, when he turned yet another corner, Georgie dug her heels into the flooring and forced him to stop. “Where could you possibly think you’re taking me?”

He faced her with a frown, his blue eyes boring into her. “Away from there, where we’d be overheard by whoever it was you were eavesdropping on. Not that I owe you any sort of explanation. I have to wonder what you thought you were doing, however. It’s impolite to listen in to private conversations, and it is about the furthest thing from what you’d normally do as I can imagine.”

She pulled her arm free from his grip, and then crossed both arms over her chest. “Oh? About as impolite as it is for a gentleman to trap a lady alone somewhere, I’d wager.” The fact that he knew it was unlike her left her unsettled. He was right. She never did anything improper.

Well, never before this Season.

Blast him for knowing her so well.

Monty frowned, the effort of it forming a crease between his eyebrows. “You’re not trapped, and given the relationship that I have had with your family for nearly two decades—one which is well known amongst the
ton
—no one would think twice about the two of us being somewhere alone together. I’m practically your brother.”

Something tugged at the side of his mouth and a jerking twitch tugged his eye at that last statement, but he set himself to rights before Georgie had more than a moment to wonder why such a sentiment would be bothersome to him.

“
But you’re not my brother.” She put more emphasis than was necessary on the word
not
, but he needed to understand that the world didn’t see things quite the way he was choosing to see them. Being
almost
her brother was far from the same as
being
her brother.

“
No,” he said on a long exhalation, “I’m not. But your brother isn’t here, so I’m doing what I can to protect you.”

“
I don’t need your protection.” She didn’t
want
it, at any rate. His attempts to
protect
her were making her life miserable. He was always in the way, even when she thought she’d escaped his attention for a moment.

“
That, my sweet Georgie, is up for debate.”

She scowled at him with enough force that she could have burned him to ash if she could throw flames through her eyes. Come to think of it, that was a rather delightful prospect. Perhaps someone ought to someday write a treatise on the physics involved in making such a thing happen. She’d send Percy to the bookstore with her pin money to purchase it for her straightaway, should it happen. Now
that
was a subject she found fascinating. At least she did once it had occurred to her.

They stood there for a long moment, neither willing to give an inch to the other.

Finally, Monty dragged a hand through his hair and let out a ragged breath. “I know you think you’re all grown up now and don’t believe you need my assistance—”

“
Hovering, I might call it, rather than assistance. Or perhaps interference might fit better.”