Imagining what young Con must have looked like, with his dark curls and blue eyes, Georgie found herself smiling at the notion. “I’ll bet you were adorable.”
“Some would say I still am,” he quipped.
“Now,” he continued, “shall we remain in the box or go in search of refreshment? Or I can have refreshments brought here to the box.”
Georgie felt the nervous energy pent up in her body and realized that she desperately needed to walk about a bit. “I should like to stretch my legs,” she admitted.
By this time the other two couples were gone and Con and Georgie slipped out into the throng of people outside the door of the box. “Stay close,” he said, “it can be quite easy to get caught up in this.” He told her the number of their box just in case they became separated.
“Yes, my lord,” she said wryly, as she allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her toward a disturbingly long line where a server was handing out cups of punch.
As they waited, Con greeted various friends and acquaintances as they passed by. Some stopped to chat for a bit, and when Con made introductions she was surprised that he introduced her not as his aunt’s companion, but as a family friend. She supposed that either would do, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit dishonest. No matter how Lady Russell had encouraged her to think of herself as such earlier when she’d bestowed the sapphires upon her.
They were nearing the front of the line when Georgie felt someone collide with her and to her dismay she lost sight of Con and was soon engulfed in the crowd around them. Since she wished to visit the ladies’ retiring room in any case, she decided simply to go there then meet him back at the box.
They’d passed the door to the retiring room some time ago, so she headed in the direction from which they’d come and was soon rewarded by the sight of yet another line. With a sigh she found the end and waited behind a lady wearing a rather imposing turban adorned with a peacock feather. For a few moments she waited there, listening to the snatches of conversation coming from the people around her.
One older woman was chastising her middle-aged daughter for having chosen such a feckless husband. A pair of gentlemen were discussing the figure of the actress playing Beatrice in some detail, the finer points of which made Georgie’s eyes widen in surprise. She’d grown up around military men, who were as bold as any other males, but they’d been careful to edit their conversations around the daughter of their commanding officer. She supposed the men here thought their conversation would be lost amid the noise of the rest of the crowd.
Realizing that she was a lone female in a crowd of men, she searched for a member of her party, but in vain. Nervous, she began to walk briskly down the hallway toward Lady Russell’s box. She’d only gone a few feet when she saw a familiar figure up ahead. The light brown hair was a bit longer than she remembered, but the height was right, even if she were convinced that it could not possibly be who she thought him to be.
It’s my husband’s look-alike again.
The man was walking with his back to her, his gait as fast as he could manage in the crowded hallway. Determined not to lose him, Georgie sped up herself, though she was hampered by her lack of height and the tendency of the other theatergoers to stop and talk to friends as they wandered the halls. Finally, she saw him turn down a corridor that must lead to some of the nonpublic rooms of the theater for there was no one else there when she turned to follow him but a group of gentlemen whose clothing and age marked them as likely to be just out of university.
“Pardon me,” she said when it appeared that they would not simply move out of her way. “I should like to pass.”
“My pleasure, my dear,” said one of them, who did a double take as she edged past him. “On second thought, maybe I should just hang on to you,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “You’re too delectable to let go.”
“No fair, Rushton,” one of the others said heatedly. “You always snag the pretty ones for yourself.”
“That’s just as well,” a third said as Georgie struggled to remove herself from the first man’s grip. “This one is going to fall for me,” he continued, taking Georgie’s other arm.
“Let me go,” she said firmly. She’d learned long ago that wheedling didn’t help in such situations. One had to be adamant and stand firm or men would ignore a woman.
“Oh-ho, you see there, Rush?” the third man said. “She wishes to come with me.”
“I said, let me go,” she repeated, beginning to panic a little.
It was clear that no one was able to hear her over the general noise of talk and laughter in the corridor, and she decided that since her words weren’t making any difference, she’d try another tack. Her slippers were far too thin to make any kind of impact were she to try stomping on their feet, so she decided to use the method her father had taught her when she was first beginning to attract the notice of the young soldiers in camp.
With a deft twist, and grateful that the skirt of her gown was not more constricting, she lifted her knee and struck the first man with all of her might in that most sensitive part of the male anatomy.
Her first captor let go long enough for her to pull away. “You little bitch,” he hissed in pain.
“Not so fast,” the second man said as she tried to get out of his grip as well.
“Let. Her. Go.”
“Who the hell are you?” the first man asked insolently.
“I’m the man who is going to make you wish you’d never been born unless you unhand this lady immediately,” Con said, looking pointedly at the man who still held Georgina’s arm.
Eight
Con arranged to have refreshments served to their box easily enough, but was waylaid by an aging earl who’d been a great friend of his father’s and it was far longer than he’d originally intended before he made his way back to their seats. To his dismay, Georgina was nowhere to be found. In fact, no one had seen her since she left with him earlier.
Tracing his steps back to where he thought they’d been separated, he was soon moving against the crowd who were shuffling back to their seats now that the interval was almost over. He was headed in the direction of the rear stairs when he heard a masculine curse and some sixth sense urged him in that direction.
What he saw there made his jaw clench. Georgie was surrounded by four young bucks, two of whom had their hands on her as she struggled to get away. A curtain of red descended over his vision, and despite the odds of four against one, he demanded that they get their hands off her.
The relief in Georgina’s face when she saw him was palpable as he took advantage of the other men’s surprise and pulled her away from them and thrust her behind him.
“Which of you wants to tell me why you thought it was a splendid idea to trap this lady?” he asked them, his voice calmer than he felt. “Though I suppose it’s too much to assume that you’ve more than one brain among the four of you.”
“Who the devil are you?” The man who’d been facing Georgina with his hands gripping her shoulders when Con approached was clearly the ringleader of the group. Con didn’t fail to note how the other three had looked to him when Con arrived on the scene. Now, however, the dark-haired man looked more petulant than commanding. “This is a matter between the lady and ourselves.”
“You must be incredibly stupid,” Con said, his voice deceptively calm as he addressed the young man. “For if you knew anything at all you’d know that I’m reputed to be a crack shot. And what you’ve just done is grounds for a challenge at the very least, as this lady is under my protection.”
Visibly, the three followers took a step back. It would have been amusing if Con weren’t so furious.
“Now, look here, man,” the leader said, his sudden pallor indicating that he’d realized that perhaps he’d chosen the wrong lady for his attentions. “I have no quarrel with you. The lady approached us. We were trying to encourage her to return to her party.”
“You lie,” Georgina cried, stepping around
Con to confront her accuser. “I was merely trying to get past you and you grabbed me.”
The young man’s pallor turned to a flush of anger. “Now see here, miss…” he said before he could stop himself. One look at Con had him taking a step back rather than a step forward, however.
“Because nothing more happened,” Con said, stepping in front of Georgie again, with a look that told her to stay put, “I will allow you to go if you all agree to leave Bath. I cannot promise what I’ll do if I happen upon you at some other venue here in the coming weeks.”
“I say,” one of the other men said, his voice aggrieved. “That’s not fair.”
“Shut up, Bemis,” the ringleader said, his voice clipped. To Con he said, “We’ll go. Though I don’t think you know just who it is you’re threatening.”
Con had to admit that the fellow had bottom. “And I could say the same to you, sir. I will assuage your curiosity and tell you that I am Coniston. And if you are at all familiar with sporting circles you will know I did not lie when I said I am quite nifty with a pistol.”
A murmur passed among the three followers when they heard Con’s name. The first man blinked. And he turned pale again. At this rate, Con thought, with dark amusement, he’d find himself shunned by his peers as the victim of some new fever.
Still, the fellow managed to bow with enough insolence to save face. “My lord, I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but it is not. I believe you’ll know my father, Lord Allenby,” he said. “He too is well known by reputation. I hope that you will not come to regret this night’s doings.”
Lord Allenby was known to be a powerful member of the Tory party, and had used his influence to see that many of the reforms championed by the Whigs were snuffed out long before they became viable. He was also reputed to have a nasty temper.
Con, however, wasn’t worried. “I believe that I am quite safe from your father since I am neither weak nor powerless.” Before the younger man could argue, he held up a staying hand. “We could stay here arguing all evening. Now I fear I am weary of the subject and would ask the four of you to leave us.”
Though the ringleader looked as if he wished to argue, the other three soon convinced him that they would leave while they might.
Before a minute had passed, Con and Georgina were alone in the corridor.
He looked to ensure that there was no one else lurking about, and without ceremony, pulled her to him and kissed her.
* * *
Georgie had found herself battling between gratitude that Con had appeared on the scene and annoyance that he’d effectively pushed her to the side so that he might fight her battle for her. She knew well enough that some men would never see a woman’s opinion as anything other than a triviality to be ignored. And she had little doubt that the young men who’d cornered her were of that ilk. However, she was still angered both by how quickly the young men did as Con said and by how he’d assumed that she’d be grateful for his protection.
Before she could voice these feelings, however, she found herself in his arms and, despite her well-formulated arguments against the wisdom of such a thing, responding with some enthusiasm to his kiss.
From the moment his lips touched hers, she lost all train of thought, except perhaps to reflect while she could that this was a far different kiss from the one they’d shared that afternoon. Gone was the gentleness of their earlier embrace. This kiss was hot and consuming and carnal. As he walked her back toward the wall, he pressed her back against it, and as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, he pressed his rock-hard erection against her softness. She gave as good as she got, meeting his mouth with her own, sliding her hands beneath his coat to feel the strong muscles of his back as he held her.
They went on like this for one, maybe two minutes more, before she felt him become still against her. He kissed her once more on the lips, and reached down to remove her hands from around his waist and took a step back. He closed his eyes for a moment, slowing his breathing before he opened them again and looked at her ruefully.
“We will have an actual bedchamber next time,” he said firmly. “No more hallways.”
Georgie couldn’t help but laugh, though she too was short of breath. “And what makes you think a change of locale would make a difference?” she said, teasing.
His eyes still dark with passion, he smiled wickedly. “I have my reasons,” he said with a raised brow.
“Now,” he continued, looking serious, “I hope that you will tell me why you were foolish enough to engage those ruffians in conversation. I would have thought that given the danger we have both agreed you are in, you would take more care for your safety.”
Whatever affection she might have been feeling for him after their kiss was dampened by his question. “I simply requested that they let me pass,” she said tersely. “I hardly think that indicates a lack of concern for my own welfare. And since when has it become fair game for gentlemen to accost ladies in theaters like that?”
“Do not fly up into the boughs,” Con said, raising a hand of surrender. “I didn’t say they were in the right. But you know young men as well as anyone given your time with the army. They are as unpredictable as the weather in summer—especially when a group of them gets together. I simply wondered what reason you had for accosting them.”
“I did not accost them,” Georgie said through clenched teeth. “I was following someone who bore a striking resemblance to my late husband and they refused to let me pass.”
At her words his brows snapped together. “That’s even worse than accosting the young men. Why the devil didn’t you come find me?”
“Because there was no time,” Georgie said, annoyed at being called to task like a young corporal on his first mission. “I saw the man in the main hallway and knew immediately it was the same one who was in the garden the other night. And I didn’t wish to lose the opportunity to find out who he was and why he was here in Bath.”
Con looked as if he’d like to chastise her further, but he must have decided against it because he turned to look down the corridor. “And he went this way?” he asked. “You’re sure of it?”
“I’m sure of it,” Georgie said, reluctantly setting her annoyance aside for the moment. “And I might have caught him if those scoundrels hadn’t blocked my way. By the time you arrived, the man was long gone. Though I believe he went through the exit at the end of the hallway.”
Indicating she should follow him, Con hurried down the carpeted hall toward the door Georgie was talking about. Rather than an exit as she’d assumed, when they opened it they saw that it led to the landing for a darkened set of stairs, one rising up to the top floor, and another leading down.
“Up or down?” Con asked, surprising Georgie by allowing her to decide which direction they should take.
“Up, I suppose,” she said, thinking that if Robert’s look-alike were attempting to leave he’d be long gone, therefore the route downward would produce nothing of interest.
Con gestured for her to precede him, and grateful he was with her, she climbed the narrow stairs upward until they reached a doorway that marked the end of the flight.
“Let me go first,” Con said before she could touch the doorknob. “If he’s lying in wait, I don’t want you at risk.”
She would have liked to argue, but the truth of it was that Con would be better able to protect himself than she would. For the umpteenth time that evening she wished she’d brought her pistol.
“Stay here,” Con said before he walked around her and turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the roof.
Frustrated at being left behind, Georgie waited with impatience until she heard a muffled curse from Con, and ignoring his order, stepped through the doorway herself.
The air was chilly as the night sky shone down upon the city of Bath. Georgie quickly scanned the darkness for Con and saw him standing about three yards to her right. “Con?” she whispered. “What is it?” She crept over to where he stood star
ing down at a shadow on the floor of the rooftop. “Is it…” She stopped in mid-question as the shape on the roof resolved itself into something recognizable as the shape of a human body.
“Oh, dear,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest.
Whoever the young man had been in life, in death he was as horrific a sight as Georgina had ever seen. Not only was the fellow—who might have been one of the men who had accosted her so closely did he resemble them—lying in an impossibly odd position. He was also showing signs of having been beaten quite badly about the head. His face was all but unrecognizable, and his shirt points, which earlier in the evening might have been as high and precise as any other young swain’s, were soaked in a dark substance that could only be blood.
Though she’d seen death on the battlefield many times, she’d never thought to see it here in the heart of civilized society. Unable to maintain her composure, she turned from the body and stepped away from where Con knelt beside it. Raising her handkerchief to her mouth she fought to banish the smell of blood and death from her nostrils.
“He’s dead,” she heard Con say in a low voice behind her, though she’d known from the moment she saw him that the young man was no longer living. “And his skin is slightly warm, which leads me to believe that he hasn’t been dead for very long.”
“I want you away from here,” he continued, his voice curt. “Whoever killed him might still be around here. And I don’t want to risk your safety again.”
The notion hadn’t occurred to Georgie and she felt at once as if someone were watching her.
“Who is he?” she asked as Con came to her side, slipping an arm around her waist and leading her from the scene back toward the stairs. “Just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“Or the partner of your watcher who became unnecessary?” Con’s voice was questioning. There were any number of possible scenarios for what might have led to the death of this man tonight and in this location. “There’s no way of knowing just now.”
It was then that she began to tremble. In the darkness of the stairway, Con pulled her against him. Warming her with his body. There was nothing of passion between them now. Only simple human comfort.
Why Earls Fall in Love Page 11