Page 73 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Or two. Or two dozen.
Christ, it sounded rather bad, all taken together. He hadn’t meant any harm, though. He’d just—
“You want to have your way in all things, my friend, and you’re accustomed to getting it, except, it seems, from Mademoiselle Harley.Oui?” Célestine, who was making no attempt to hide her enjoyment, gavehim a sly grin.
“You don’t have to look so happy about it,” Benedict grumbled.
“Ah, but I am happy,mon chère, because you need a…a firm hand, shall we say? Mademoiselle Harley will be the making of you, ifyou allow it.”
Benedict huffed out a breath. There wasn’t any question he would allow it—had beenallowing it since that first day he’d met Georgiana in Maiden Lane, all those months ago. Now he looked back on it, he could see his surrender had been inevitablefrom the start.
But his capitulation wasn’t whatbothered him.
A mental image of Freddy’s bruised and battered face rose to his mind, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Mon ami?” Célestine’s smile faded. “What is it? You lookdésolé.”
Benedictshook his head.
“Come, my lord. We are friends,oui?” Célestine took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. “We are no longerles amoureux, but you are still dear to me. You mayconfide in me.”
“Georgiana Harley is…” Bright. Clever, brave, and beautiful, and he…he was a rake and a flirt and London’s most entertaining scandal. He wasn’t a bad man, no, but he was a reckless, selfish one. He couldn’t think of any reason Georgiana should bother with him. “She’d do better to save her firm hand for a gentleman worthy of her efforts.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “It would be foolish of her to put her faith in me, and Georgiana Harley is no fool.”
“But my dear friend, your Miss Harley does not agree. She has already put her faith in you. If she had not, she would not be here with you now. Indeed,mon ami, you are more deserving than you imagine. Behave as a gentleman does with your Miss Harley, and allwill be well.”
“A gentleman?” Surely, he could manage that much?
“Oui.” Célestine patted his cheek, then gave him a gentle push toward the door before crossing the room to ring the bell for a servant. “Now, go and fetch your mademoiselle while I see to your carriage, hmmm?”
“Yes, all right.” Benedict pressed a grateful kiss to Célestine’s cheek, left her small private parlor, and went around the corner and up theback staircase.
But when he entered the bedchamber, hefound it empty.
Georgiana was gone.
He strode toward the window, but she wasn’t on the drive below. Had she decided to return to Lady Clifford, after all? Benedict dropped his forehead against the glass, a strange tightness in his chest. It was what he’d told her he wanted, but he’d never believed she’dactuallyleave.
It would be just like her to choosethiscommand to obey.
But if she had gone, she couldn’t have gotten far. He rushed back down the stairs, but stopped on the bottom step, not sure where to look next. Had she gone to the drawing room in search of him? Or should he go back to Célestine’s private parlor,and see if she—
Huff.
Benedict stilled, his head jerking toward the entryway. What the devil was that? The noise was too soft for him to make it out for certain, but it almost sounded like…a muffled gasp.
The skin on his neck prickled with warning.
Maybe Georgiana hadn’tchosento leave at all. Maybe the duke had discovered where they were hiding and sent one of his villains to snatch her up. Even now some blackguard might be dragging her outside, his paw clamped over her mouth, stifling her desperate screams. Benedict hadn’t seen a carriage in the drive, but that didn’t mean the duke’s men weren’tprowling about.
He didn’t pause, but charged down the hallway toward the front door. He couldn’t have explained what it was about that sound, but his heart had rushed into his throat when he heard it, and it was lodged there now, pulsing with dread.
When he reached the anteroom off the entryway, it stopped altogether.
Georgiana wasn’t being attacked. She wasn’t being dragged across the floor, or kidnapped, or silenced with a paw over her mouth. There wasn’t a villain to be seen.
She was alone, standing in front of one of Célestine’s paintings, her hand over her mouth and her eyes as wide as tea saucers.
Ah. No wonder she’d gasped.
