He halted her with a hand on her elbow. “Miss Dennings, are you all right? You look like a cat dunked in water.”
“No, it's fine, it's fine.”
She thought he would let her go, but instead, he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Here, it's scented with oil of lavender, and it'll steady your nerves. Some fresh air should help. If you step this way, we can head out to the garden for just a moment...”
Blythe tried to tell Lord Cottering that Tristan was expecting her, but that only made her feel worse rather than better. She was dreadfully certain she was going to simply break down into sobs and soil his handkerchief beyond repair when a bright voice cut through the chatter.
"Oh, my goodness, Miss Blythe, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."
Blythe's head shot up because that was a voice she only recognized a little, and yet it was greeting her with all the warmth of the sun.
Lord Cottering's hand tightened on her elbow for a moment, and then loosened. She wryly thought that he must be as aware of the Martin-Carrow feud as was everyone else in the room, and she smiled at him wryly to let him know that Georgiana was, if not a friend, at least not a foe.
"Oh, darling, I am so sorry, I did not expect you to take our bet so very seriously." There was surely no woman there as beautiful as Georgiana Martin, dressed in a blue gown that matched her eyes and with a stunning set of sapphires around her throat. She shone like gold, and for some reason, she was dropping an arm around Blythe's shoulders as if they had been friends from the schoolroom.
"Lady Georgiana?"
"Oh, Miss Dennings, surely you may call me Georgiana now, after all we have been through. And I'm so, so sorry, I did not expect you to be so very honest." Georgiana winked at the room around them as if letting all of them in on a fabulous joke. "Miss Dennings came to see me a few days ago, and she wanted me to give to the charity that she is supporting. Which one was it again, darling?"
It took Blythe a moment to realize that Georgiana was expecting an answer. "Oh, uh, that must have been the Ladies’ Coalition for Increased Child Welfare."
"That's exactly right! And I am afraid that as out of sorts as I was, I would only give her the donation if she came to a ball dressed as a little dish scrubber, and well. You see."
"Goodness, Georgiana, to be so out of sorts that you won't give to charity," said a disapproving matron.
Georgiana shrugged gaily. "I was probably going to give her the money no matter what she did. It does sound like a good cause, doesn't it, Lady Reid? But now I certainly will, and I must remember to keep a rein on my tongue in the future."
It was a good thing that all eyes were on Georgiana then, because Blythe was staring at her as well. Georgiana might get a little censure for taking advantage of the gullibility of a missionary girl, but she had neatly absorbed all of the snickers and cattiness directed at Blythe. Standing under Georgiana's arm, Blythe felt as if a cloak had dropped over her, shielding her from hurtful eyes and scathing comments.
Georgiana was so good at social distractions and fast talk that Blythe barely noticed she was being led away until they'd crossed into the hall running adjacent to the ballroom. At some point, they had shaken Lord Cottering entirely, even if she still had his handkerchief. Two servants carrying trays laden with food walked by quickly.
Blythe looked around. "Where are we going?"
"I grew up with Christina, Lady Gorsing's daughter. Christina is living like a queen in Barbados now, but I still know my way around the Gorsing's London home. Ah, here we are."
Georgiana opened a door to reveal a small drawing room, far homier and more inviting than the Gorsing's ballroom. Blythe entered with relief, and Georgiana closed the door after them.
"Why did you do that for me? I mean, I am grateful, but you don't know me at all."
Blythe sat down on the green velvet chaise. Instead of taking a seat opposite her, Georgiana stayed standing and paced a little, going to poke at the banked coals in the drawing room hearth.
"I suppose I thought it might balance the scales a bit. I started the evening drenching a Carrow in champagne; I might as well end trying to help another one."
"I'm a Dennings, not really a Carrow, but... wait, were you the reason why Tristan stunk to high heaven of champagne?"
Georgiana shot her a rueful look. "I'm afraid that was me."
"Goodness, no wonder he looked so murderous. Well, I'm sure he deserved it."
Georgiana cocked an elegant dark eyebrow at her. "Vicious little thing, aren't you? Are you sure you're a Carrow and not a Martin?"
"Believe me, the observation has been made. And... thank you. For what you did in there."
"As I said, I thought I should balance the scales before I get struck down by lightning, and I've never liked it when Society turns on a dime and devours someone."
Blythe shuddered. "That's a grim way of looking at it."
"Practical, though, I know that I am on top now, and I am even mean enough to enjoy it, but I know that is the fate waiting every woman who steps too far out of line."
Georgiana was right, but Blythe hated her calm acceptance of it. This was why she had wanted to get away, to have adventures in a world where none of this mattered, where you couldn't destroy your life by wearing the wrong kind of dress.
"I should get back to the front of the house. Tristan is expecting me to be there when he is done with his talk.”
"What his grace the Duke of Parrington expects and does not expect is of no concern to me," Georgiana said with a toss of her head. "I happen to think that you are very interesting, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. You looked like you were on the verge of tears a few times out there. If I were you, I would not leave until those tears are well under control.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Blythe was shocked that a lady like Georgiana ever had to worry about tears in public places, but it was good advice. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She was almost feeling herself again when Georgiana took her hands.
"Poor dear."
For some reason, that little bit of sympathy in what had honestly been a terrible night made something inside her crack. Tears welled up in her eyes and started to fall. In shock and horror, Blythe's hands went up to her eyes to scrub the tears away. Then Georgiana was sitting next to Blythe, wrapping her arms around her.
Blythe started to cry in earnest, burying her face in Georgiana's neck. The woman was a near-stranger, and Blythe couldn't help soaking her shoulder with tears.
"I thought I saw you come in... Blythe!"
For a moment, she was afraid that it was Tristan. Somewhere in the back of her head, Blythe still thought her cousin was going to swoop in and make everything all right, as opposed to whatever he was doing now. At the same time, she had been burned so often and harshly by Tristan lately that she actually flinched.
Then Blythe realized that it wasn't Tristan at all. Instead, it was Thomas, and a new kind of warmth swept through her. Without thinking of propriety or where they were, she pushed off the chaise and launched herself at Thomas, who folded her in his arms as if he were made to do it.
"Oh, poor little angel. Georgiana, what have you been doing?"
"Don't look at me. I got her out of the ballroom before the fine ladies of London Society turned her into a pincushion with their barbs."
Blythe knew she was behaving abominably. She had to go meet Tristan, to tell him about the man who had invaded their home. However, the idea of going to meet her cousin now felt like pouring salt over fresh wounds. She couldn't stand it, not when Thomas was there and guiding her back to the chaise.
"I heard that there was some kind of commotion going on between you and Parrington, Georgiana. Are you all right?"
"I am fine, of course. I always am. We should probably look after this little Carrow instead of worrying about what high and mighty Tristan is doing."
"I'm not really a Carrow." Blythe's voice was muffled, her face stil
l buried in Thomas’ formal jacket. She didn't think she'd be moving away until she absolutely had to.
"No, not much of a Carrow at all." Thomas’ voice was soft and comforting. "Will you tell me and Georgiana what happened, angel? It must have been something bad for you to come in like this."
Blythe hesitated. She needed to tell this to Tristan, whose house it was, who was her guardian, and who, after all, had a right to know. The temptation to talk about what had happened to two such comforting people, however, overwhelmed her.
"I was in my room, and I heard a step I didn't recognize..."
Quickly, she outlined what had happened, and by the time she'd finished, Georgiana looked alarmed and Thomas grim.
"Georgiana, do you think it would be appropriate for you to keep Blythe at our residence tonight? I can make it known that I'll be keeping rooms at the White Hart Inn, all very civil and dignified."
Georgiana frowned at him. "What are you thinking, Thomas?"
"Nothing much, but I'll admit that this all sounds terrible, and I don't want Blythe to be alone tonight."
Blythe lifted her head from his jacket at last, looking between the two Martins. "Don't I get a say in this?"
Georgiana chuckled. "Good for you, darling. Martins like their way best, and we can get a little carried away when we're occupied."
"Of course, you have a say, Blythe. But... do you really want to go home tonight?"
Blythe shivered. She thought of sleeping on the bed she had hidden under just a few short hours ago. She thought of lying awake beneath the covers, hoping she didn't hear a strange step in the hall, or of hearing every small sound in the night and thinking it was someone trying to get in.
"No. Not really."
"Good. Then you and Georgiana are going to be best friends who are looking to spend some time together. Perhaps you have plans to go shopping together in the morning."
Georgiana looked at Thomas, a curious expression in her beautiful blue eyes. "Soon, brother, I will want some questions answered."
"And you know I will do my best to answer them. For now, let's just get Blythe home."
* * *
14
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CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
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Thomas didn't really calm down until Georgiana appeared in the study, a silk wrap over her nightdress.
"The poor thing must have been exhausted. She fell asleep as soon as she laid down on the guest bed, before I could even leave. Thomas, what's going on? What are you doing with a Carrow?"
"She's less Carrow than some. And you can't look at her and not see that she needs help."
Georgiana tilted her head to one side, and Thomas didn't meet her eyes. His sister had always seen too much for his liking, and he knew he was behaving strangely.
"You are many things, Thomas, some bad, but many good. I would not have said that being helpful was one of your virtues."
"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf. Maybe Blythe is rubbing off on me."
He wondered if Georgiana believed him. His sister was known for her beauty and her cutting tongue, but no one seemed to understand that she had a mind like a steel trap behind her bright blue eyes.
"All right, Thomas. But I'm just going to remind you that I have placed Blythe in the room next to my own. If you get it in your head to come bothering her, I will not hesitate to raise the hue and cry."
"Now who's being helpful?"
"It's very easy to want to protect Blythe, isn't it? I suppose I can't blame you. Good night, Thomas."
It took Thomas several hours before he finally went to bed. He hated the idea of Blythe being afraid, and having her under his roof, safe with himself and his formidable sister to keep watch, made him feel much better. The idea of a stranger coming into her room made his stomach turn over with fear, and underneath it all was a growing protectiveness for the girl he had met just a few short weeks ago.
Seeing her at the Gorsing crush was like a draught of cold water after a long dry summer day. He hadn't known how much he'd wanted to see her again after their escapade in Seven Dials. However, there was really no way to write to a woman to see if she wanted someone else on her adventures. He would have come up with something eventually, but then this had happened.
Thomas passed a fleeting thought to Georgiana's mild threat, that she would know if he tried to sneak into Blythe's room. Sneaking was one thing, but what if he was invited? Somehow, in the short time since they had seen each other last, he'd forgotten how sweet her mouth looked and how wonderful she felt in his arms.
* * *
The next morning, Thomas was startled at breakfast by Blythe, dressed again in gray and wearing a rather shy look on her face. She paused in the entrance to the breakfast nook that the family used when there were no guests in attendance.
He smiled at her. "Come in. If I know anything about Georgiana, she'll be abed until afternoon. No reason for us to deny ourselves, and there's plenty to share."
Blythe came to take a seat next to him. Thomas felt a strange sort of contentment fall over him at having her so very close.
"The maid sent me this way when I was up. Thomas, I have to thank you and your sister for last night—"
"Think nothing of it. You looked terrified out of your wits."
Blythe blushed a little, not looking up until Thomas buttered a bit of toast for her and set it on her plate. She looked at the toast as if it were the strangest thing she had ever seen.
Thomas chuckled. "It's just breakfast, Blythe. It's not going to hurt you."
For a moment, Blythe looked like she was going to cry. "I'm such a fool!"
"Where's that coming from? You went through something frightening. It's all right if you're feeling a little unbalanced. Would an egg be more comforting than the toast?"
She laughed a little at his words and nibbled on the toast. To Thomas, it looked as if she were discarding one thing she wanted to say after another.
When Thomas spoke, his voice was as gentle as he knew how to make it. "You don't have to hide anything from me. I already know about your career as the avenger of London's downtrodden."
She rewarded him with a brief smile. It felt to Thomas as if the sun had come out.
"I'm a fool because I realized who must have been in my room last night."
Thomas stared. "You have?"
"Yes. I think it was one of the grooms. Tristan asked him to keep an eye on me."
Thomas felt a hot rage rising up inside him. "Why in the world would Parrington have a damned groom keep an eye on you?"
"Because, well... I mean, things have changed."
Blythe's awkward protection of Tristan Carrow made Thomas even angrier.
"Because you have money now."
"I think so. Tristan's been so different lately, and the money's only a part of that. If I could give it to him and just have him go back to being himself, I would, but the terms of the inheritance are very clear. The money is meant to be held in trust for me until I marry, when it will become part of my dowry."
"And Parrington probably doesn't like the idea of the estate passing out of his family, even if he never knew about it."
"Don't be terrible. Tristan's a good man, and no matter what my condition has been, he has always treated me like a sister."
Thomas looked at Blythe, and his heart ached. It was too easy to imagine her as a friendless young girl, and the Carrows the only safe port in the storm after her parents died.
When he spoke, he kept his voice as gentle as he could. "But he's not treating you like a sister now. Look, Blythe. if I tried to treat Georgiana the way he treated you, forcing you to events you don't want to go to, having you followed, she would be screaming the house down. He cannot treat you like this."
Blythe gave him a small and rather desolate smile. "Most of the world is very different from th
e one you and your sister live in. Up until very recently, I have been Tristan's charity case, and he is still my guardian. I'm afraid he can treat me how he likes."
She looked so small and sad that Thomas reached out to cup her cheek with one hand. It was perhaps a mistake, though not one he was willing to regret. A bolt of lightning shot between them the moment his skin touched hers, and he heard her gasp of breath at the sensation.
Blythe was so unlike the beauties of the ton, but there was something utterly breathtaking about her when she looked up at him with those dark eyes. Without breaking their gaze, he ran his thumb over the pink fullness of her lower lip. He could only think about how soft her lips were, and then her little pink tongue came out to lap kitten-like at his digit.
"Blythe, you have no idea what you are doing to me."
She considered it. A pink flush spread over her cheeks, but she didn't look away. "I might."
Thomas shivered at her words, and he took her hand, drawing her over to sit in his lap. The servants wouldn't come in without announcing themselves, and for once, they were not in the streets of Seven Dials or in front of the entire goddamn ton.
Thomas was overtaken by the closeness of her body, how he could feel her warmth through her old and drab clothing. She felt as light as a little bird on his lap, and when he cupped his hand over the back of her neck, he wondered at the delicate bones of her spine.
"Blythe, if you're going to stop me, you should do so now."
"I'm not sure I can."
Something in him wrenched at the almost painful honesty of her reply. When his lips met hers, he would be hard-pressed to say whether she had leaned in or he had. Then nothing else mattered except the wild beauty of kissing her, of feeling her soft mouth on his and the way her hands clutched onto his shirt for balance, for support, or perhaps simply to be closer to him.
Kissing her blew the top of his mind, and almost subconsciously, he gathered her a little closer to his body. Thomas had kissed many women, and he wasn't sure that anyone had ever felt as good as Blythe did just then. His body responded to her closeness, and he wanted nothing more than to take her up to bed to explore her full response.
The Marquess' Angel_Hart and Arrow_A Regency Romance Book Page 10