The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book) (27 page)

Cedric pulled Georgie to him and wrapped himself around her, hoping to bear the brunt of the impact. Not a moment too soon, either. As soon as she landed upon his chest, the floor of the basket struck the ground. It barreled along for a moment, but remarkably did not topple over. When it finally came to a stop, Cedric helped Georgie to rights.

At the same moment, Haworth looked down at them. “All right then? Yes, well, the third thing I need to tell you is that we have a rather large audience, including Lady Georgianna’s brother, who looks more than just a bit livid at the moment. I’ll leave you to settle matters with him, I expect.”

Cedric laughed, then—a full laugh, from his belly to his toes. Bridge could be livid all he wanted. It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was Georgie had agreed to marry him.

This was an adventure they could both look forward to.

When Georgie came down into the parlor Friday afternoon, Percy was waiting for her. He looked less like a madman now than he had when he’d first come to Town this Season, after a haircut and a shave, and donning some clean clothes. He still hadn’t explained any of it, and Georgie thought it was best not to press him. Someday, he would grow into the man he could be.

He stood up when she came in, holding a sealed letter in his hands. “Monty sent this over for you.”

Cedric sent her something? A thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought. He’d promised, when he asked her to marry him, that they would experience adventures together…adventures in which she might know
what
they were, but wouldn’t know the whole of them until she’d experienced them for herself. Of course, there was the adventure of marriage itself, and that of the marriage bed—but Georgie was fairly certain he had some other adventures in mind, as well. She just didn’t know what they would be.

She forced herself to walk gracefully and sedately across the room to take the envelope from her brother. Married ladies, after all, did not run like giddy schoolgirls, and she was soon to be a married lady. In just two more days’ time, the banns would be called for the first time.

With shaking hands, Georgie broke Cedric’s seal. Inside the carefully folded parchment, there was a drawing of a lion with a note scrawled below it.
For our honeymoon.

Gracious! Where was he planning to take her? She couldn’t even begin to imagine, but one thing was certain—Georgie intended to read every book in her brother’s library that even so much as mentioned lions.

In fact, she’d get started right this instant.

Before she left the drawing room, though, she walked over to the escritoire beneath the front window and opened the drawer, carefully removing the sheets of parchment she’d hastily stashed there after coming home from tea at Patience’s house yesterday afternoon. She’d taken notes as her friend had told them of some delightfully wicked things a husband and wife could do, and she intended to study them just as closely as she would study about lions.

After all—she wanted to be as knowledgeable about every aspect of her life as she could be, both before and after she’d experienced them.

To my husband, who puts up with my crazy, busy life, and loves and supports me anyway. 

And for Ava, Jerrica and Catherine, for being great friends and such fun writing partners.

~ Jane

Mr. Fiske bets Lord Alston three hundred pounds that Lord Lydell will
allow
encourage

be compromised by Lady Moira Kirkwood and be hauled off to Scotland

before the end of the Season. ~ April 19, 1813

Lady Moira Kirkwood stretched her arms above her head, opened her eyes, and immediately sat up. “Goodness, what time is it?”

Beatrice, her maid, popped her head out of the dressing room. “It is close to noon, Lady Moira, but I am not surprised you slept so late, last night being your first ball and all.”

If Moira hadn’t insisted Beatrice not wait up for her, the maid would have known she hadn’t been out until the wee morning hours, but that was not the case.

In fact, she’d barely made an appearance at the Heathfields’ ball before her mother determined it was time to leave. The only friend she had seen was her dear friend, Pippa, Lady Philippa Casemore, and that was from across the vast ballroom. They’d shared a quick wave before her mother had pulled her away. Once the introductions were out of the way, Moira hoped to find Miss Patience Findley and join Pippa, who seemed to be having a grand time, but her mother insisted on leaving.

“
It adds mystery,” Mother had insisted.

Mystery
? “This is my first ball. May I at least stay long enough for one dance?”

“
No, you may not.”

And that was it. An hour after they walked through the door, they were walking back out. Upon arriving home, her mother sent her to bed for a good night’s rest so that she wouldn’t develop wrinkles or bags or circles under her eyes, and to consider the gentlemen she had met that night.

Instead of doing as she was told, which Moira rarely did, she made a list of the few eligible men that had made her acquaintance that evening. There had to be at least one Scotsman, with an estate close to Edinburgh, preferably. The Highlands would never do because they were far too remote. One must have access to a good modiste, a lending library, and a haberdashery if one was to survive so far away from friends and family.

Moira rose from her bed, walked to her desk, and picked up the list she had penned before falling asleep. There were only five names, and none of them sounded even remotely Scottish. If her mother was going to limit her time at balls to only an hour, Moira needed a new plan.

“
The light blue will look lovely on you.”

Moira glanced at the walking dress Beatrice laid out on the bed.
Walking dress
. She was to meet Pippa at the entrance of Hyde Park today. Moira glanced at the clock again. She still had two hours until their appointment. At least Pippa would have stayed for the entire night and probably had a wonderful time. Moira couldn’t wait to hear the stories. Oh, why couldn’t she have an old, lax guardian instead of her mother?

A scratch at the door drew Moira’s attention. “Come.”

Mary, another maid, popped her head inside the chambers. “Lord and Lady Hearne to see you, Lady Moira.”

“
Tell them I will be right down.” Why were her brother and sister-in-law here? “And have tea and cakes delivered. Lots of cakes, please.” Her stomach grumbled. Normally, she would have had her morning meal before now.

“
Very good.” Mary bobbed a quick curtsey and closed the door.

Moira rushed through her toilette, without allowing Beatrice to do much with her hair except brush and to pin it back before rushing to meet her brother and sister-in-law. Nyle and Alvina had been at the Heathfields’. Perhaps they would have stories to tell.

“
Moira Kirkwood, ladies do
not
run down stairs. They do
not
appear below stairs without their hair being arranged and their clothing properly attired.”

She skidded to a halt, her slippers carrying her a few extra feet on the marble floor, the moment she heard her mother’s voice. Moira glanced down at her gown. It was precisely what she’d planned on wearing to meet Pippa later that day. Oh, she so hated changing clothing three, four, five times a day. It was a terrible waste of time when one could be reading, shopping or simply enjoying a glorious day.

She turned to face the woman who was the bane of her existence. “Alvina and Nyle are here. I wished to see them and they don’t care how I’m dressed.”

Her mother reached the foyer and raised an eyebrow. “What of other callers? They will care.”

Moira suppressed a sigh. “There are no other callers, Mother, nor do I expect there to be any.”

“
Of course there will be callers,” her mother insisted. “You made quite an impression last evening. I expect they will be arriving within the hour.”

How did one make an impression when barely a few words were spoken and her outing had only lasted all of sixty minutes in a room full of at least one hundred people? Her mother was daft.

“
Go upstairs and change into a morning gown, and have Beatrice do something with that hair of yours. Then you may visit with your brother and that wife of his.”

Moira resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she turned to do as her mother bade. Thank goodness Beatrice had a talent for arranging hair, and in short order.