A Daring Liaison(38)

“Then...then you think it was him—this Mr. Gibbons—outside the Theatre Royal? And that he wanted to kill you and not me? And that he never had anything to do with my situation?”

Never say never. “Unlikely, Georgiana.”

The silence stretched out for a moment and he finally turned to her to find her fixing him with a cold stare.

“When were you going to tell me this, Mr. Hunter?”

“I did not think it was necessary for you to know. As I said, Gibbons evidently has nothing to do with your situation. We are still searching for that person.”

“And when were you going to tell me that you had your own enemies? Enemies that have nothing to do with my ‘situation’?”

“Never. Unless it affected the investigation into your problem.”

She sat back against the leather squabs, staring straight ahead. Neither of them spoke again until the coach pulled up at Georgiana’s town house. She reached outside the window and opened the door herself. “Thank you for the escort home, Mr. Hunter. No need to see me in.”

But he was fast behind her. He had no intention of allowing her to back out of their arrangement. He waved his driver off and followed her up the steps to the door. Before she could turn the knob, the door opened and Hathaway’s stern visage blocked the passage. Georgiana slipped past him, but Hathaway moved in front of Charles.

Oh, he was not in a mood for this! “Step aside, Hathaway,” he warned.

“I believe Mrs. Huffington is retiring for the night, sir. Good evening.”

He caught a glimpse of Georgiana disappearing into the library, and something snapped when Hathaway began to close the door in his face. He put one arm out to stop the door and the other out to seize Hathaway by his starched collar, twist and slam him against the doorjamb.

“You presume too much, Hathaway. I’ve had enough of your insolence to Mrs. Huffington and her guests. Do not forget who is in charge in this house, or you and I will have words. Do you understand?”

Hathaway’s rheumy blue eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Lack of oxygen? The man could strangle for all he cared, but Hathaway nodded, a look of desperation on his face.

Slowly, Charles released him and pushed past him on his way to the library. “Do not wait up. I’ll show myself out,” he said over his shoulder.





Chapter Nine




Georgiana knew Charles had followed her into the house. She heard the sharp crack of the doorjamb when he confronted Hathaway and almost turned back. That was her fault. If she had dealt with Hathaway herself, this wouldn’t be happening. Oddly, she cared more what Charles thought than she did if Hathaway quit and left her in the lurch.

Hathaway had been Caroline’s servant and he’d always treated Georgiana like an outsider. She had hoped he would adjust in the months since Caroline’s death, but instead he’d grown even more churlish. Doing without his constant insubordination and disrespect might even be a relief.

Still, Charles was presuming far too much where she was concerned. He really had no right to intercede with the servants or to invade her home without invitation. The man needed to be taken down a peg or two.

She went to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of sherry. She’d never needed its calming effects more. One gulp finished the glass and she poured another as the sherry’s heat crept downward to warm her middle. One more and she’d be ready to deal with Charles Hunter.

Alas, there was no time for more. Charles, imposing and angry, came to stand beside her at the sideboard. He chose brandy, and not a small amount, either. More judicious than she, he only sipped.

“Show Hathaway the door, Georgiana. The man is out of control. He works for you. Not the other way ’round.”

“He? He is out of control? You are in quite a foul mood tonight, are you not? From my arrival at the Argyle Rooms to your dressing down of Hathaway, you have been singularly unpleasant. I think you should go.”

He took another drink, larger this time. “Think again.”

“Whatever possessed you to confront him as you did?”

“Someone had to do it and you, apparently, were not going to.”

“You had no right to interfere in my domestic affairs.”

“As your fiancé, I have every right.”

“That is a sham, Charles! Mere subterfuge. I will thank you to remember that.”

He turned to her and took her glass to put it beside his on the sideboard, then pulled her into his arms. “Not as much a sham as you might think. In the eyes of the ton, and your servants, we are now bound to each other. I hope I will not be forced to remind you of that too often.”