Miss George's Second Chance (11 page)

She snorted again. “Bent? How about completely broken?”

Walter paused. “Then you’d better marry him this time and be done with your protests that a closer association won’t work between you. It’s apparent to even a blind man you are not indifferent to his attentions. And from what I can see, he is equally smitten with you.”

And there was the rub. She wasn’t suitable to be his wife, but Peter was unbelievably good company. “I do like him.”

“Then marry the man and put him out of his misery before some other woman gets between you.”

That didn’t appeal to her but still… “It’s not that simple, Walter.”

“Sure it is,” he said immediately, amusement lightening his tone. “He asks. You accept. You move next door and live happily ever after. That’s what you’ve written in your books many times. Are you claiming the rules of attraction don’t apply to you?”

Imogen crossed her cane before them and tapped him on the shins with it. “How would you like me to ask when you are going to marry?”

Her brother spluttered. “Never.”

“Why not? Are you afraid?”

“Damn right I am afraid. Every woman I’ve ever met wants nothing more than to change a man into her personal lapdog. That’s not the life for me. I’d rather die an old bachelor than have to bend to fit the mold a woman expected.”

Imogen bit her lip. “If you think women always try to change men then why are you suggesting I marry your friend?”

“You and Peter are an exception. You’re alike in many ways. Stubborn. Bookish. Always have been.” He bumped into her side. “I kept an eye on you both at work yesterday. Each time I poked my head through the door you had Peter’s complete attention. I know he didn’t see me because he didn’t pause in kissing you.”

“I didn’t hear you on the stairs.”

A deep laugh sounded beside her. “Miss Radley is not the only one who attempts to sneak around you. He makes you happy, sister. You may not have figured affection or even love into your decision to marry him last year, but I think he has your heart now. Why fight against it?”

Imogen considered that as Walter led her on in silence. To her right the relentless roar of the sea muted the growing murmur of many voices. Walter stopped frequently, pausing to speak with mutual acquaintances and the odd stranger’s voice Imogen couldn’t place. As usual, Walter neglected to introduce her to some, but she didn’t mind so much today. She had a lot to think on. Had she underestimated Peter badly? He said she should have given him a chance last year. In truth, Imogen had been afraid he’d not return and leave her dangling so she’d acted first to save herself from the eventual disappointment. She’d never dreamed he’d come back.

“I say, what a peculiar day to see Miss George out in the sunshine.” The vicar’s booming voice cut into Imogen’s introspection, forcing her attention back to the present and her location on a crowded beach she couldn’t see the beauty of.

She lifted her chin. “I’m here for the race, sir.”

“But she cannot see it.” His daughter, Miss Pease, advised in a perplexed voice.

Imogen inhaled and the scent of lilac swept over her. She blinked her watering eyes and tried not to pull a face at the stench of Miss Pease’s distinctive perfume in the air.

“Yes, yes. Quite a wasted effort,” Vicar Pease agreed in a loud voice. “Shouldn’t she be sitting down, Mr. George, and resting in the shade?”

“I’m fine.” Imogen said through gritted teeth. Being spoken of as if she wasn’t there was rude, being spoken of in a louder than normal voice set her teeth on edge. She was blind not stone deaf. “Miss Radley will see I have come along to support her endeavors and that is all that matters.”

Silence descended. “A word, Mr. George,” the vicar barked.

Walter slowly unraveled Imogen’s arm from his. “I’d better see what he wants. Stay right here and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Imogen hated that Walter never stood up to the vicar when he used that tone. Walter had his own mind and often enforced his will, however, the vicar was another kettle of fish. “Walter, you promised.”

He patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Miss Pease is right here to keep you company.”

Imogen hoped she did not roll her eyes at the idea of having a scatterbrained twit watching over a blind woman. It was better than no escort at all. Imogen held out her hand, hoping to encounter Miss Pease’s support. When no touch came, she cleared her throat. “Miss Pease?”

Silence. Imogen took a cautious sniff of the air. Not a trace of lilac. She listened but could not hear Walter’s voice or the vicar’s booming baritone. In fact, it seemed as if the crowd was moving away from her. What was she to do now? Miss Pease had likely deserted her the moment Walter’s back was turned and she stood alone with no idea in which direction he had gone. Her palms grew damp inside her gloves. Her worst nightmare had come to pass.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Peter tapped on the Georges’ front door, frustrated that he was running late. It wasn’t his fault exactly. He’d overslept and then his housekeeper had decided he needed a much bigger first meal of the day than usual. She’d gone to so much trouble on his behalf he hadn’t had the heart not to at least sample every dish. He pressed a hand to his stomach. He’d have to stop her from doing that again. If he ate in such a grand fashion too often he’d never fit his clothes.

 
Perkins eventually opened the front door.

“I’m here to see Miss George.”

“I’m sorry, Sir Peter,” Perkins frowned. “Mr. George and Miss Imogen are already en route to the gathering by the sea. You have missed them by a quarter hour.”

“Damn. Thank you, Perkins.” Peter firmed his hat on his head and set off down Cavendish Place. Imogen wasn’t aware he had intended to join them at the race. He’d hoped to surprise her and linger in her company. Then, when the race was over, Peter had a plan in mind to steal her away from Walter and propose at the exact spot she had proposed to him a year ago.

As he turned onto the next street, he ran into Miss Pease and the vicar coming from the direction of the beach. “Ah, Sir Peter Watson. As I live and breathe. My daughter and I were just discussing hosting a dinner in your honor next week. Jane has spoken of you very warmly and I’m sure you must feel the same.”

Peter scowled. “Is that so?”

“Why yes, of course,” the vicar went on. “’Tis difficult, given the subject of our last conversation, to declare one’s feelings so soon, but I am sure that can be forgotten.”

The last time he had spoken to the vicar was to advise him that Imogen wouldn’t be marrying him. At the time, Peter had been a touch harsh in his tone, but his feelings hadn’t changed in any way.

He wanted to marry Imogen.

“Sir Peter!”

Peter turned at the sound of Valentine Merton’s voice and found his friend rushing toward him, his arms full.

“I need you,” Merton insisted, tossing several wrapped parcels into his arms and dragging him away from Vicar Pease and his daughter at speed. “We’re late.”

“I know.” Peter glanced down at the parcels in his arms. “What is all this.”

“A monstrosity. Please don’t laugh too hard when you see me in it?”

“Merton, what the devil are you banging on about?”

“I’m the one racing against Julia Radley today.”

Peter stopped in his tracks. “Are you out of your mind? I thought she must have convinced her brother to race her and he was too embarrassed to say.”

His friend hooked his arm and dragged him onward, frowning. “Radley is against the competition.”

Peter shook his head. “Your sister has also been quite scathing of the whole idea. She has been rather harsh toward Miss Radley on the subject, or so I hear. What does she say now?”

“Melanie has no idea and I’d like to keep it that way until the very last moment. I had to wait for her to leave the house before I could follow. Could you imagine the earache I would have gotten if I’d let slip our plans for the race?”

Peter glanced ahead and saw Merton’s sister and cousin just ahead. “She’d be unbearable.”

Merton spotted his sister too and jerked Peter behind a slowly moving carriage so they wouldn’t be seen, but could still proceed. “Exactly. When this is over I’m sure she’ll complain for at least a week or two solid without pause.”

“You could always change your mind.”

Merton shook his head decisively. “I won’t let Miss Radley down at the last moment and have her be disappointed. She has wanted a chance to prove herself for a long time and this is it.”

Peter glanced at his friend and noticed the stubborn set of Merton’s jaw. He was committed. “Do you think a lot about Miss Radley’s happiness often?”

Merton grinned. “There are worse ladies to be captivated by. I like her energy very much.”

Peter gave up all attempts at seriousness and laughed at the trouble Merton was heading into with open eyes. “She’ll be the death of you. Linus is always complaining about her antics.”

Merton shrugged. “Harmless fun. Nothing more.”

“If you say so. However, this might not be so harmless to her reputation.”

Merton pointed to a distant bathing machine. “I can change there. Julia will be fine. Will you stand guard and keep everyone away. The race begins at eleven o’clock. I don’t want to be seen until the very last moment.”

Although Peter was eager to catch up to Imogen, he nodded and checked his pocket watch. “You have only a few minutes you know.”

Merton grabbed his arm and ushered him across the open beach. “I know. Shut up and allow me to change.”

Merton locked himself inside the little rolling cabin. Peter moved away from the door and scanned the crowd lingering on the pretty stretch of beach between them and the starting line. A goodly crowd had shown up for the sport. More than he imagined for such a scandalous turnout. He hoped they were kind to Miss Radley when she lost. It was only fun and not meant to be taken seriously.

He spotted a few familiar faces ahead but not the one he wanted. He was about to give up when he spied Walter, standing in conversation with Linus Radley. Imogen wasn’t with him, but she must be close by. He took a few paces forward and finally saw her, standing alone far away from Walter, hands clutched together at her waist.
Damn Walter
.

He tapped on the bathing chamber wall urgently. “I need to go.”

He turned without waiting for an answer and hurried across the coarse sand. He was half way toward her when a boy of about ten ran past Imogen on his way toward the seaside gathering. As the boy bumped into her, she spun and then a dog, likely the boy’s pet, knocked her off balance on the uneven, shifting ground.

Imogen wailed as she wind-milled her arms, but it was no use. Time slowed for him as she fell. Her head struck the earth. Peter ran toward her, desperately afraid that she’d come to harm. She lay winded with her eyes squeezed shut as if to hide.

“Imogen.” Peter touched her gently and raised her into a sitting position. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I am mortally embarrassed.”

He surveyed her, checked her head for signs of injury and concluded she would be fine. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Not mortally. We can recover from this. May I help you stand?”

She stuck out one hand. “Please.”

The crowd around them began to mutter as he eased her onto her feet and dusted sand from her gloves and arms. Peter scowled at them. “Nothing to see here.”

He placed himself between the crowd and Imogen to shield her from further scrutiny. “You look lovely.”

“I am surely covered in sand, sir. Everywhere a lady would prefer it should not be.”

Peter glanced about and spotted Miss Long approaching. He gestured for her to hurry. “Miss Long. Might we trouble you for assistance?”

Miss Long wrung her hands. “Oh, stars. What can I do?”

Imogen sighed. “Would you take me home?”

“Oh, but the race is about to start,” Miss Long protested. She darted a longing gaze at the distant crowd.

“Never mind what she said,” Peter advised Miss Long. “I’ll see her home myself after the race. But would you be a friend and reassure Miss George, from a lady’s point of view, that her appearance is flawless. She does not seem to believe me.”

Miss Long chuckled and inspected Imogen’s gown carefully. When she was done flicking away sand, she rubbed Imogen’s arm. “He told the truth. You look lovely. I have to go. Melanie expects me.”

When Miss Long rushed off, Peter curled Imogen’s arm about his and pressed his hand over it to reassure himself she was secure on his arm. “There now. Miss George, would you like to get closer to the action? I can see Miss Radley waving madly in this direction.”

“I’d like that very much, but do you know where Walter went?”

“Yes, I can see him now.” How could Walter have forgotten her? “Later, I’ll have words with him about how you came to be alone.”

“He left me with Miss Pease. Unfortunately, the responsibility was all too much.”

“I expect there was no room left in her head besides planning a dinner party in my honor.”