A Daring Liaison(44)

“Of course. Oh, and my invitation to bring your fiancée ’round for a chat stands, no matter what you find about her family. I’d very much like to know her better.”

Charles smiled as he took his hat from a footman. More likely Carlington would quiz Georgiana about Lady Caroline. “I will, sir.”





Chapter Ten




Charles spotted Georgiana and Harriett in the supper box he had reserved for them. Sanders—Georgiana’s tall, lanky footman—stood watchfully by. Charles was gratified to see that she’d had the foresight to bring an escort of some kind. They’d learned nothing in the past few days if not that the threat of danger lurked at every turn.

At his elbow, Sir Harry Richardson, freshly back from Kent with no news whatsoever, spotted them, too. “Ah, you’ve brought a morsel for me. The lovely Miss Harriett Thayer.”

“Tread lightly there.”

Richardson shrugged. “I know how to mind my manners. More than I can say for you on some occasions, Hunter.”

“Ah, but I am wise enough to restrict my amorous adventures to the demimonde.” The words were no more than out of his mouth when he realized that had all changed last night.

As he and Richardson wound their way through the maze of boxes, Miss Harriett waved to friends strolling along a path bordering the area. She said a few words over her shoulder to Georgiana and then hurried toward her friends. Sanders looked as if he did not know which woman to escort. Charles could solve that problem, at least. “See that Miss Thayer does not go astray, will you, Richardson?”

His friend grinned. “Gladly.”

Perfect. Now all he had to do was to think of some errand to occupy Sanders so that he could have a moment alone with Georgiana. She’d been docile enough this morning, but he could not guess her mood tonight. She was preoccupied with arranging the table settings and he came up behind her to slip one hand around her, pull her back against his chest and cover her eyes with the other. “Guess who.”

The tension in her muscles relaxed with the sound of his voice. “Um, Mr. Farmer?”

What? Could she be serious? “No.”

“Sir Harry?”

Ah, she was teasing. That playful sense of humor had been one of the things that had made him fall in love with her. “No. Not Harry.”

“Not Lord Wycliffe?” she asked with a note of exaggerated shock.

He laughed. “Mr. Hunter.”

“And which Mr. Hunter would that be?”

He grinned and lowered his voice as he uncovered her eyes and turned her about to face him. “The Mr. Hunter whose name you cried out in passion last night. The one whose arms you swore never to leave. The one who brought you to a boil and—”

“Ah no, it couldn’t be him.” The delicate pink of a blush began to creep up her cheeks. “Did he not say I had rendered him completely useless for at least a week? He would be home recovering on milk toast and weak tea, poor thing.”

He laughed. “I recover quickly.”

“I had noticed that.”

“I think I like this Georgiana,” he said, quickly brushing his lips across hers before they could be seen. “She reminds me of a girl I used to know years ago.” But, oddly, and much to his discomfort, he found he was growing to like this woman even better.

“Does she? I hope you dealt more kindly with her than you did with me.”

More kindly than he had with her? To the contrary, she had been the one to deal unkindly. “Would you care to explain that, Georgiana?”

Her blush deepened. “No, I would not. It is in the past and I would prefer to leave it there.”

A serving girl stepped into the box carrying a large tray of thinly sliced cold meats and cheeses along with a selection of fruit and breads. This was not the time to pursue the matter, but he would revisit the subject soon. Twilight had deepened and he signaled Sanders to lay out the light repast.

“Shall we fetch the others for supper?” He took Georgiana by the arm, leading her onto the walk that Richardson and Harriett Thayer’s group had taken, hoping to catch up with them.

“And what did Hathaway have to say this morning, Mrs. Huffington?”

She sighed deeply. “I fear I did most of the talking. I found him going through my things.”

Charles felt his hackles rising. He’d been right to distrust the man. “And?”

“I dismissed him.”