No Gentleman for Georgina Read online

  “Oh, Paul,” Annabelle said with a smile. “I’m sorry, we didn’t see you there. You remember Georgina, of course.”

  Georgina still did not look at him even as he bowed slightly. “Miss Hickson. I’m sorry to disturb you. I was merely stretching my legs and I heard voices. I don’t wish to interrupt.”

  Georgina looked at him at last. “You aren’t, of course, Mr. Abbot. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Annabelle gave her an odd look. “If you and Marcus are taking a break from your work, perhaps you will join Georgina and me for tea?”

  Paul continued to look at Georgina, wishing he could comfort her in some way even though he didn’t know why she was so upset. “I’m afraid I don’t know where Marcus went. He made some reference to an errand a short while ago and left me to my own devices.”

  Annabelle blinked. “An errand, was it? Interesting. Well, come and join us regardless.”

  He knew he should decline, especially since Georgina obviously had something private to discuss with Annabelle, but the opportunity to sit with her without her mother and father clucking their tongues in disapproval was too rare to pass up.

  “I will come in for a while, thank you,” he said.

  “Excellent,” Annabelle said as she linked arms with Georgina and led them both into the parlor.

  As she rang the bell, Paul watched Georgina pace across the room to the window that overlooked the garden. Her expression was pensive and sad as she stared out over beautiful flowers and well-manicured bushes.

  “Miss Hickson—” he began, but was stopped when a servant entered with refreshments. The young woman set her tray down, then leaned in to say something to Annabelle. The other woman blushed, but smiled as she looked toward her friend and Paul.

  “Won’t you excuse me a moment? Marcus has requested my company.”

  The light in her eyes made Paul turn his head. So that was the something Marcus had left him for. Some surprise for Annabelle.

  “Of course,” Georgina said, her tone flat as she turned to face her friend. “I will be fine alone if Mr. Abbot has his work to attend to.”

  Annabelle waved her hand. “Don’t be silly. I’m certain he will be happy to keep you company.” She smiled at Georgina. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

  Georgina nodded and Annabelle left, leaving the door just slightly ajar for propriety. Paul stared at it. He had never been so alone with Georgina before. He had always spent his time with her in ballrooms and parlors filled with people.

  She shifted, and her awkward smile told him she was thinking the same thing. But was she uncomfortable with their state of privacy? Was that why she had said she would be fine alone?

  “You must not have thought you would be relegated to governess duty today,” she finally said, moving toward him.

  He shook his head. “What?”

  She blushed. “You came here to work, not be forced to keep my company. I know you were only being polite not telling Annabelle you wished to leave.”

  He took a small step toward her. “Actually, I do not mind spending time with you at all, Miss Hickson,” he said softly. “It is always a pleasure. But if you’d like me to leave—”

  “No!” she said, the sudden and strong tone of her denial making him smile wider. Her cheeks grew even darker. “I mean, I would certainly enjoy your company.”

  He motioned her to the settee and then poured her tea. After years of watching her, he knew how she took it, so he prepared it and handed it over. She took a sip and looked up at him in surprise.

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  He poured his own refreshment and sat down across from her. “I have not seen you since Lord and Lady Hartholm’s soiree a few days ago.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I was sorry you left before I could say goodbye.”

  He shrugged. “I am not particularly comfortable at such events, I fear. It is not my world.”

  She shifted. “Perhaps not, but that does not mean you are not welcome there. I know many a lady watches you at those events, wishing you would dance with them.”

  He drew back in surprise at that statement. “You must be joking.”

  “No.” She dropped her gaze. “I am asked about you on a regular basis. Because we are…we are friends of a sort.”

  He nodded. Friends. He was lucky to be able to call her that. And yet sitting here, looking at her, knowing she was hurting and it was not his place to help her…he wanted so much more.

  “How much did you hear between Annabelle and me in the hall?” she asked.

  He was caught off guard by the soft question. “Not much,” he admitted. “Enough to know you have been distressed by something. Perhaps whatever was in the newspaper you tried to hide when you saw me in the foyer.”

  She looked down at her clenched hands in her lap for a moment, and he could see the struggle on her face. She obviously wanted to talk to someone about her troubles, and with Annabelle out of the room, here he was. He shouldn’t have allowed that, knowing it was inappropriate for her.

  But he didn’t care.

  “If you would like to share what has happened with me, I promise not to judge you.”

  Her gaze jerked up and she met his eyes. Her stare was so deep and blue and beautiful that he couldn’t tear himself away. She held there for a short time before she removed her reticule from her wrist and withdrew from it that crumpled piece of newspaper.

  He took her offering and smoothed the wrinkled paper out. He scanned the words, looking for whatever could have bothered her. When he was silent too long, she whispered, “The advertisement.”

  His gaze fell on the small square in the corner that touted a return of Madame Tussaud’s wax figures to London.

  “The exhibit?” he asked, looking up.

  She nodded. “That is what I came to talk to Annabelle about, though I hadn’t yet explained it. You must think me very silly.”

  He furrowed his brow, still uncertain why this would cause her such strong emotion. “Not at all,” he said as he handed the paper back. “It’s a wonderful exhibit—you will enjoy it, I’m certain.”

  Her face fell and she reached out to rest her fingers on the paper she had placed beside her on the settee. “No, I will not,” she said, her voice barely carrying. “My father won’t allow me to attend.”

  He drew back as the pain in her voice became clear. “Why not?”

  She looked at him for a very long time. Long enough that he wondered if she intended to answer the question at any point. “My father has a certain desire for my future. And he will refuse me the right to anything that isn’t in his plans for me.”

  Paul couldn’t stop his frown from deepening. “And so he will eliminate any pleasure from your life?”

  The moment he asked the question, he heard the double entendre to it. One he hadn’t meant but which now sent his errant mind on a journey of kissing this woman. Undressing her. Making love to her.

  She blushed. “He feels the exhibit is inappropriate. Even if it is all the rage to see it.”

  “That is patently unfair, to deny you what you desire. If he didn’t want to attend, why not allow you another chaperone?”

  She shrugged. “As I said, it is outside the bounds of his plans for me. So it will not happen.” She looked at him for a moment. “You appear very upset on my behalf, which I appreciate. But do not worry yourself. I only wanted to tell someone about my disappointment. I have never thought for a moment that this problem could be fixed by anyone. I won’t be allowed to go and that is the end of it.”

  Paul pressed his lips together in displeasure. Georgina was so resigned to whatever her parents desired. So surrendered to a life she would have at their behest. He knew he could not change that life, that future, but suddenly he very much wanted to give her this small boon.

  “I…” He shook his head, almost in disbelief at himself that he would say this. “What if I could help you?”

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nbsp; Chapter Three

  Georgina blinked in confusion as she stared at Paul. He didn’t look like he was making fun of her, but if he wasn’t teasing, she was truly flummoxed by what he could mean.

  “Help me?” she repeated. “Help me what?”

  He swallowed before he spoke. “I could help you see the exhibit.”

  She pushed to her feet and took a long step toward him. Suddenly they were too much in each other’s space. She’d never been so close in all the times they met, for they had never danced. He was very tall indeed, very handsome, and he smelled spicy and sinful. She tried hard to draw breath, to sound calm even when her racing heart betrayed her to herself.

  “You would do that?” she asked, the words broken.

  He nodded slowly. “Yes. If you desired me to do so.”

  “Why?” she asked, then immediately regretted it. There were more answers to the question that would break her heart than ones that would make her soul soar.

  He hesitated a moment, as if trying to formulate the proper response. Then he shrugged ever so slightly. “Because I like you, Georgina Hickson. I think you deserve to see the exhibit. You deserve something you want.”

  She stopped breathing entirely. Those words were not the ones she had expected. And he had called her Georgina. Well, he’d called her by her full name, so that wasn’t quite as intimate, but it was certainly more so than referring to her formally and properly as he had done since the first moment they met.

  “I want—” she began, then turned away. Great God, she hadn’t actually been about to admit what she truly wanted, had she? There would be nothing so foolish, since it was not a feeling he likely returned, nor could it ever amount to anything.

  “What do you want?” he said from behind her, his voice suddenly rough.

  She swallowed hard and faced him, forcing herself to maintain some kind of nonchalance. “How would we do it?”

  He pondered that. “Your father allows you to spend the night here from time to time, does he not?”

  Georgina paused. “Sometimes. Begrudgingly.”

  “Arrange it with Annabelle, and I will be certain the back servants’ entrance is left open. You can sneak out once the household is abed and I’ll meet you behind the house. Afterward I will bring you back. No one will ever be the wiser.”

  She shivered as the delicious wrongness of that plan sunk in. It would flout propriety of all kinds. “In the middle of the night,” she repeated.

  He nodded. “That would be for the best. It will ensure you’ll not be seen and no one will know who might report back to your father.”

  “And how will we manage to get in?” she asked. “I would imagine that the Magnificent Mercatura will be locked tight at two in the morning.”

  He smiled, but it was a different expression than any of the ones she’d ever seen him flash before. There was a smug maleness to it, a confidence that made a queer ache begin in the pit of her stomach. Warmth seemed to spread through her, pooling in the most inappropriate places.

  “Rivers is a very influential man,” he drawled. “And so am I. The proprietress of the exhibit…well, she has been known to frequent the club. I think she would allow it if she understood how good a cause it is.”

  She blinked. She knew very little about Marcus Rivers’ club. It was a scandalous place, the Donville Masquerade, but everyone always stopped talking about it when she entered the room. When she’d asked Annabelle about it directly, her friend had actually blushed to the roots of her hair and muttered something about changing the subject.

  Which only left her desperately curious about what it was exactly that Paul did.

  She pushed those thoughts aside as he tilted his head, watching her too closely. Seeing too much.

  “Will you?” he asked.

  Doing this would be dangerous, and she knew it. But she couldn’t resist and not just because she wanted to see the wax figures. Slowly, she nodded. “When?”

  His face relaxed, as if he had been nervous about her answer. “I’ll need at least three days to arrange it. What about Thursday night?”

  “Very well. If I cannot get my father’s permission to stay here, I’ll send word through Annabelle. If you hear nothing, assume it will happen.”

  He nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for far too long. Then he shook his head as if shaking off a spell and said, “Good. Very good. And now I should probably return to my work.”

  She watched him as he turned away toward the door. But before he took a step, he turned back. “Georgina?”

  She jolted. Now he truly was saying her first name. It was utterly inappropriate to do so, and yet it made her entire body flutter with nothing short of desire.

  “Y-Yes?”

  He seemed to struggle for a moment, but then he said, “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Pa—Mr. Abbot,” she whispered, not bold enough to call him by his first name. “I will see you soon, I hope.”

  He slipped from the room and she all but collapsed on the settee closest to her. When she was with him, he always seemed to hold sway on all the air in the room, but never more than today when he proposed such a wild plan to her. And she had accepted!

  Normally she wasn’t so brave, but to have him hold her gaze as he had, to have him whisper that she deserved something for her own pleasure…how could she refuse? She would get time alone with him. And she would get to the see the wax exhibit.

  There could be nothing more perfect.

  Her reverie was interrupted when Annabelle returned to the room. Her face was flushed and her hair slightly askew. She smoothed it as she walked toward Georgina.

  “Is everything all right? You are very pale.”

  Georgina jumped. She was not going to tell Annabelle about her odd plan with Paul. If she said it out loud, it might make it not real. Or her friend might discourage her.

  “I am fine,” she insisted with a bright smile she did not have to fake.

  Annabelle arched a brow. “Yes, you do seem in higher spirits than you did when you arrived. But where is Abbot?”

  Georgina pushed to her feet and poured herself another cup of tea. “He had to return to his work.”

  “I hope you weren’t alone long,” Annabelle said.

  She faced her friend. “Not at all. I had time to think.”

  “Do you want to tell me what was upsetting you so much upon your arrival?” Annabelle asked, watching Georgina far too closely. “You were waving around the paper and so incoherent that I didn’t understand.”

  Georgina shook off her friend’s concern. “You know, I find I am less upset now than I was. It is truly not worth discussing.”

  Annabelle drew back. “You came all the way here and were ranting in my foyer, but now it is not worth discussing?”

  “Oh, it was just my father, trying to control my future again,” Georgina explained. “But it matters very little now, I assure you.”

  “Georgina…” Annabelle began, her tone concerned.

  “Do you think I might be able to spend the night here on Thursday?” Georgina interrupted.

  Annabelle tilted her head slightly and then nodded. “Er, of course. You are always welcome here, you know that is true.”

  Georgina smiled at her friend, but she was utterly distracted. All she could think about was Paul’s offer to take her to the exhibit. Paul’s handsome face. Paul in general.

  “What is going on with you?” Annabelle asked, her sharp tone breaking into Georgina’s thoughts.

  She gathered up her reticule with a smile. “Nothing at all. I’ll send word about what time I’ll join you as soon as I get permission from my father, if that is amenable to you.”

  Annabelle took a step forward and her hand closed around Georgina’s gently. “Georgina.”

  She nodded. “Yes?”

  “I know it is difficult for you right now,” her friend said gently. “What your father wants…it is a great deal of pressure on you
. I also realize he disapproves of our friendship, but I want you to know how much I value it.”

  Thoughts of Paul fled as Georgina met her friend’s bright eyes. Annabelle seemed truly concerned about her, and it was the reason she loved the other woman so much. In a world where everyone had their ulterior motives about her, Annabelle seemed to truly love her just for who she was.

  “As do I,” she whispered, blinking at the tears that had suddenly flooded her eyes. “More than you likely know.”

  Annabelle’s eyes also sparkled with unshed tears. “Then are you certain there is nothing you wish to tell me? You know I would be happy to help or support you in any way.”

  Georgina hesitated. She had never spoken to her friend about her feelings for Paul. She doubted Annabelle even suspected the truth. And there was part of her that longed to whisper what she had held inside for almost two years. But another part didn’t want to open that door.

  Annabelle would want to protect her, of that Georgina was certain. And if her friend told her not to meet with Paul…or worse yet told her that Paul could never care for her…

  Well, she wanted to live in her fantasy, at least for a while longer. It had been so long since she had something to look forward to. She didn’t want to lose it.

  “No, nothing at all,” she reassured Annabelle. Then she squeezed her friend’s hand. “And I should go. My father is already in a bit of a dudgeon, so I probably shouldn’t have left this afternoon.”

  Annabelle caught her breath, as if to speak, but then shook her head. “Well, perhaps you will want to speak more on Thursday. We look forward to having you.”

  Georgina smiled, then led her from the room to call for her carriage. But as it pulled up and she said her goodbyes, she couldn’t help all but dancing from the house. She was going to have an evening with Paul.

  And even though it could mean nothing, at that moment it meant everything in the world.

  Chapter Four

  Paul sat in the narrow alleyway behind Rivers’ home on Thursday night in one of his employer’s fine rigs. Marcus always allowed Paul to borrow them and had asked no question when he asked for the privilege that night. In fact, Marcus had teased him, prodding him about if he had perhaps found something to do with a woman.