Bexley-Smythe Quintet 01 - Flight of Fancy Read online

  “You’re being absurd.” Haworth started to walk away in the opposite direction of where Harry was waiting, so she scurried to walk with him.

  “I’m not. I’ve been saving for years.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Harry following along behind them, keeping the same distance as he’d established before.

  “You couldn’t possibly have enough to cover his debt,” he scoffed, taking longer strides than before as though in an effort to escape her. “Your brother owes me two hundred fifty pounds.”

  At last count she had three hundred twenty-seven pounds, six pence. “I can pay you all of that and an extra fifty pounds as interest, if you’ll grant me a favor.”

  With that, he came to a sudden stop. “What favor?”

  Georgie’s heart was racing so fast she felt lightheaded. This just might work. “I want to fly, Lord Haworth. I want you to take me up in your gas balloon.”

  Cedric was almost to the point of ripping out his hair in frustration from his inability to locate Georgie, when she appeared on the walk before him as though coming mysteriously through the mist with Lord Harrison Casemore at her side. They joined him on the lighted, main pathway, emerging from one of the dark walks. She came to a sudden stop when she noticed him.

  Relief and fury jointly rushed through his veins at the sight of them.

  “What are you doing here, Monty?” she demanded.

  “What are you doing alone on the dark walks with Casemore? And why aren’t you with Pippa?” And why in God’s name did the sight of the two of them emerging from the dark together send his heart into palpitations and make him want to cast up his accounts, all at the same time?

  At least it wasn’t Haworth he’d discovered her with. But at the moment, discovering her with any gentleman was an unwelcome sight.

  “Lord Harrison has been providing me with his escort,” she responded haughtily. “Not that I owe you any explanation at all. But you can rest assured that he’s seen to my protection quite well, thank you very much.”

  His escort? That was supposed to suffice as an explanation for their joint disappearance, and their subsequent reappearance almost an hour later? “Georgie,” he said, though it came out more like a growl than a word.

  “And on that note,” Casemore cut in, “I think I’ll leave you two to your discussion.” He ignored Georgie’s scoff at his description of their conversation. “Montague, I trust you can see to Lady Georgianna’s care. Should we expect her to rejoin us, or will you be seeing her home?”

  “Let Pippa know I’ll be with you all again shortly, my lord,” Georgie cut in just as Cedric was preparing to state that he’d escort her home. “I’m sure my discussion with Lord Montague will not take very long.”

  He had his doubts about that, but now might not be the best time to contradict her. With Georgie, it was always best to pick one’s battles carefully.

  “I will be glad to do that.” Casemore inclined his head towards them both. “I’ll see you both again shortly, then.”

  Once he was gone, Georgie turned furious eyes to Cedric. He didn’t give her the opportunity to begin a tirade against him.

  “What were you two doing, and why didn’t Berkswell know where you’d gone off to?”

  She scowled up at him, and it was at once the most ludicrous and delightful expression he could remember seeing upon her face in quite some time. What an odd reaction. Some odd affliction seemed to have come over him of late, and he could attest it to nothing and no one but Georgie.

  “Lord Harrison agreed to show me the Chinese pavilion,” she finally said, her tone filled with acid.

  “Nice attempt at evading me, Georgie. I’m sorry to inform you, however, that the Chinese pavilion is well on the other side of Vauxhall from here. Surely you knew that.”

  Georgie bit her lower lip, clearly debating something in her mind. After a long moment, she met his eyes again. “You’re correct, of course. Lord Harrison and I did meet at the Chinese pavilion, but he took me from there to meet someone else.”

  A groan tore from his lips even as he felt his heart being ripped from his chest. “Haworth?” He hoped he was wrong.

  “Yes.”

  The earth beneath Cedric’s feet seemed to crumble and swallow him whole.

  Never in her life had Georgie seen Monty look so bedraggled, so distressed. His eyes were pained and strange lines had suddenly appeared around his mouth. It wouldn’t have surprised her if, at that very moment, his hair had turned from rich brown to grey right before her eyes.

  “Please, Georgie,” he said in a pained whisper. “Please tell me why you so desperately wanted to meet Haworth. Tell me what happened.”

  Hurting Monty had never been in her plans. Allowing him to stop her now was out of the question, though. “That’s not something I can do.”

  “Why? What is it that you want?” He paced along the path, his arms swinging in agitation at his side. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

  “This isn’t something you can give me.”

  How could Monty possibly help her to experience something in which she didn’t already know everything involved? How could he assist her in leaving behind her own insistence upon never stepping outside of the strict constraints of propriety even for the tiniest moment? At every turn, he was trying to stop her from doing anything which might cause scandal. He seemed hell-bent on keeping her safe and secure in the enclosures proscribed by society for a proper debutante.

  No, he could do many things, but he couldn’t grant her the freedom which Lord Haworth had agreed to.

  Monty’s blue eyes filled with a fervor she’d rarely seen in them, which left her taken aback.

  “I can, Georgie. Whatever you want, I’ll find a way to give it to you.”

  She shook her head, preparing to yet again deny him.

  Monty held her off by taking both of her hands in his own. “Give me a chance. I love you. I would do anything for you.”

  “You’re talking madness. You only love me like you would an annoying younger sister.” Didn’t he? She’d always been the young girl pestering him and Percy, forever in their way and driving them to the brink of madness. Monty would never see her as anything other than a pest—one he felt compelled to look after, certainly. But not one he could love with more than just a familial connection.

  So why did it cause an ache in her chest and a pull in her stomach when he didn’t immediately refute her claim?

  She didn’t want him to love her. Not as anything more than a brotherly love for a sister. Did she? But when she stared into the depth of his eyes, all she could think of was how she wished to stare into them forever.

  Now who was mad? A lock of Georgie’s hair fell forwards over her eyes, and she blew at it with a frustrated breath. She tried to clear the errant thoughts from her head, brushing haphazardly with one hand to repair her coiffure when blowing didn’t work, but that was useless as well without a mirror.

  Monty lifted a hand and swept her hair back into place. His fingers trailed along the side of her face, leaving a tingling path along her oversensitive skin. “Is that what you think? That you’re nothing more to me than Bridge’s bothersome sister?”

  What else should I think? That was what she meant to ask, but her tongue seemed to have permanently attached itself to the roof of her mouth, and her lips felt as though they had been sewn shut, and nothing came from her but a muffled, “Mmm.” Georgie was unable to stop herself from behaving like a feline; she pressed her head further into his touch, desperate for more of the tantalizing and perplexing heat of his hand.

  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.

  There wasn’t time to delve into that at the moment, though. He shook his head. “Never mind. That can wait. We need to find Georgie.” The task would be a much easier prospect if she would have told him what she was planning with Haworth, or if he’d found Haworth last night at Vauxhall. Since he hadn’t done either, he didn’t really have even the slightest inkling of where to start looking.