The Betting Season (A Regency Season Book)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  “And we all know that everyone ought to ask Georgie for everything,” Mattie put in, barely stopping her smirk. “After all, she has committed to memory everything that has ever passed her eyes.”

  “Not to mention a few bits that never did as much,” Frankie added.

  Georgie’s face flushed to a fiery hue, but she held her tongue. A small pit of pride welled up inside Cedric at the sight. Not too long ago, Georgie would have immediately spouted off some retort or another to her sister, further fueling the flames. Perhaps she was ready to face the London Season. Perhaps she was no longer the little girl who was so desperate to prove her value through her vast and prodigious knowledge.

  Still, she was very young, and a bit naïve, and far too impressionable for her own good. The Season, she might be prepared to face; Lord Haworth and his desire for retribution against her brother, however…Cedric wasn’t so certain on that score.

  He cleared his throat, drawing all of their attention onto himself and away from Georgie’s discomfort. “Most eligible bachelor or not, what could be more pressing for me to do in Town than to make certain my favorite ladies have arrived intact?” Especially when Bridge hadn’t bothered to escort them.

  That final sentiment hung heavily in the air between them, with no one needing to say it aloud, but all of them surely thinking it.

  Finally, Lady Stalbridge smiled warmly across at him and then refilled his teacup. “You know you’re always welcome in our home.”

  As she passed it over to him, she took his hand briefly in her own and squeezed, and a wealth of compassion passed through her eyes to him. Mattie, Freddie, and Edie each replicated her expression shyly, but when Cedric passed his gaze onto Georgie, he was left perplexed.

  Her eyes were pinched together against her nose and she pressed her lips into a thin line, with a slight crook on the left side. He couldn’t remember a time when she’d looked more perturbed with him, and he hadn’t the slightest inkling what he could have possibly done this time.

  Georgie smiled across the Sutherland dance floor at Monty, as was expected of her, but it took everything in her not to grit her teeth and stomp her feet and demand that he leave her be, just for a few minutes.

  Sadly, that wouldn’t do. Proper young ladies did not do such things. Particularly not at a ball. Most especially not at their first ball of their very first Season.

  No, a proper young lady must smile across at the gentleman with whom she was dancing, and make pleasant conversation with him, and ignore the fact that the gentleman with whom she had intended to sneak aside and scandalously converse had just entered the ballroom.

  Blast it all, why couldn’t Pippa or Moira or Patience be here to help her out of this muddle of things? But no, they were all having a lovely time at the Heathfields’ ball, she was sure, and Georgie was stuck with her mother and sisters and the ever-present Monty at the Sutherlands’ ball, since the baroness was one of Mother’s dearest and most especial friends. Never mind that Pippa, Moira, and Patience were the very same for Georgie, and a young debutante really ought to have the comfort of such as she made her debut.

  Alas, that was not to be.

  So Georgie smiled up at Monty with his probing blue eyes and his thick eyebrows. And she danced, ignoring how handsome his square jaw might be. And she tried her absolute best to make pleasant conversation with Monty, discussing the upcoming Davenport ball tomorrow night and the lovely chandelier in the Sutherland’s ballroom and the delightful scent of roses permeating the air tonight (which barely covered the stench of Town, but no one really wanted to discuss that), all the while attempting to notice the sheer strength in his arm when her hand rested there during a turn of the dance. But all the while she could think of little but cornering Lord Haworth in the gardens and demanding he take her on a grand adventure.

  Well, that and wondering what it must be like to fly through the air. She’d read all about it, and she knew how the science of the gas balloons worked, but simply knowing things couldn’t possibly prepare her to experience them.

  Georgie knew more than enough. She’d experienced far from enough, however, and she was determined that this Season, that would change. By gad, she was bound and determined to make it happen, with Lord Haworth’s assistance. And she would seek him out to arrange it all tonight.

  Or so she thought. Until Monty trudged on her foot.

  “Ah!” Georgie let out with a bit of a squeal, trying desperately to maintain her façade of propriety and decorum. She took a quick glance about, but no one in the ballroom seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Then she turned back to Monty with a scowl. “What was that for?”

  “Your head’s in the clouds.”

  In more ways than he could possibly know…

  Monty smiled apologetically, though there was a hint of something else in his expression. Concern? That couldn’t be it, could it? “I just thought I’d bring you back down to earth for a bit. Remind you that you’re in the midst of your first ball and should be enjoying yourself. That sort of thing.” At Georgie’s frown, he added, “You look more than just a bit perplexed. It’s that look you get when you’re reading some massive historical tome and you can’t sort out how the Greeks might have done something.”

  “I can always sort it out.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she literally bit her tongue.

  Monty laughed, his all-the-way-to-his-toes sort of laugh that usually left her in stitches with laughter herself.

  Not tonight, though. “You oughtn’t to poke fun at me so.” Again, she wished she could take her words back. Tonight wasn’t turning out at all as she’d hoped. Certainly not as she’d planned.

  Instantly, he sobered. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t very sporting of me, Georgie.” He left her side and they both turned a figure of the dance. When they came back together, he looked at her as contritely as he’d ever done in all their years of knowing each other—nearly her entire life. “Forgive me for being the insensitive cad I am, and I’ll introduce you to any gentleman you wish to meet tonight.”

  Her heartbeat kicked up in intensity at the thought. Would he introduce her to Lord Haworth? That would make the task she’d set for herself immensely easier. Georgie dared a peek up at Monty and tried her best to school her features into placidity. “Any gentleman I wish to meet?” Fluttering her eyelashes coyly might have been a bit too much, but it was too late to undo what she had already done.

  “Why do I get the sense I won’t approve of the gentleman you’ve selected?” Monty groaned.

  “Oh, but you did promise!”

  He let out an agitated grumble, sort of a cross between a sigh and a stifled moan. “Who have you already set your cap after? Please tell me Bridge won’t feel the need to challenge me after this, will you?”

  Somehow, Georgie managed not to openly scoff at the thought, but it took no small amount of effort. “I hardly think Percy can have anything negative to say about anyone I might choose—”

  “Just because your brother has made disastrous decisions himself, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about your wellbeing, little one.”

  “Decisions which have affected everyone around him, and the most egregious of them have affected my sisters and me to the point of essentially ruining our chances at making a decent match,” Georgie added impishly, and almost immediately regretted her tone. She sounded like an ingrate, and a thoroughly immature one at that.

  “Yes, they have.” Monty’s lip quirked up for a moment, but then he frowned at her. “Forget all of that for now. Who is it I’m to introduce you to? Our set is almost over, so there’s no time like the present.”

  The longer she put it off, the less likely he was to go along with it…because he’d grow more suspicious of her reasons. Georgie took a breath and squared her shoulders. “Lord Haworth,” she said decisively. “I wish to meet Lord Haworth.”

  The dark look that passed over Monty’s face had her immediately rethinking her decision to involve him in her plan
s in any way.

  Of all the gentlemen at this ball, of all the gentlemen in London, why must Georgie think she needed to know Haworth? Cedric stared at her, dumbfounded, for long moments before he shook himself free from the daze her request had caused.

  “Lord Haworth?” he repeated dutifully, albeit stupidly. “Are you quite certain?” Could she have somehow learned of the bet, even though he was determined to keep such a revelation from her at all costs? If she did know of it, what in God’s name was she doing trying to meet the man?

  No, she couldn’t know about the bet. Georgie was many things, but foolhardy had never been one of them. And while her brother may have allowed her reputation and those of her sisters to suffer, Cedric couldn’t imagine that Georgie would willfully endanger what little shred of dignity left to her by the family name.

  So how could he?

  She nodded up at him. “Oh, yes. Lord Haworth is without a doubt the gentleman I most wish to meet, Monty. Please?” Her eyelashes once again fluttered in what, if he didn’t know her better, he would have to assume as a coy attempt at flirtation.

  But Georgie had never been coy, and he would eat his own foot if she had the first inkling how to flirt.

  He shook his head, rather more forcefully than he’d intended, judging by the wounded expression on her face. “Absolutely not. Bridge isn’t here to look after you, but I am. I’ll not…”

  For some confounded reason or another, he couldn’t finish the thought. I’ll not willingly hand you over to your social executioner. Instead, he stood there, staring at the hurt pouring from her eyes at his dismissal.

  “I’m sorry, Georgie. I promised him I’d always do what is best for you. I need you to trust me that, whatever ideas you have about him, Lord Haworth is far from what is best for you.”

  She didn’t huff at him in exasperation, as he’d expected. Nor did she cross her arms over her chest and give him a petulant pout. For that matter, she didn’t even stamp her foot.

  No, Georgie merely looked at him with her brown eyes huge and awash with hurt, and said as calmly as may be, “I’m no longer a child, Monty.” Then, as the music had come to a close and the other dancers were clearing the floor, she curtsied to him as politely as she’d ever done and turned to leave him where he stood.

  Something jagged and sharp, and probably rusty from the feel of it, stabbed him straight through the gut at her calm composure, and he sucked in a breath of air that felt icy and far from refreshing.

  Cedric closed his slack jaw and rushed to rejoin her, placing her gloved hand on his arm as he led her back through the throng to her awaiting mother. “I know you’re not a child,” he said softly, so no one could overhear.

  She didn’t pull away from him. But neither did she respond, save for an almost inaudible sniff. Her hand trembled gently, such a slight movement he would have missed it entirely were he not so attuned to every fiber of her being.

  When had he become so? Good God, the realization was almost more than he could fathom. It hadn’t always been like this between them. For many years, she was the petulant, bordering on obnoxious, little sister of his best friend, the girl who was always in the way and spouting off some random fact that no one cared to hear. While he cared for her a great deal, as he did for the entire Bexley-Smythe family, more often than not over the years, he would have been content to have far less frequent encounters with young Georgie.

  But then, when had she begun to comport herself as a lady? Perhaps that had something to do with his sudden change.

  When they were still several feet from reaching her mother, Cedric tugged gently on Georgie’s arm, slowing their pace to a near crawl. “Tell me the reason you wish to meet Lord Haworth,” he implored her cautiously. “The reason he and none other will meet whatever need it is you think you have.”

  She stilled and faced him, looking up at him with still hurting eyes. “It’s not one I can explain to you, Monty.” Gingerly extricating her hand from his arm, she put a step between them. “I can’t explain it to anyone right now.”

  Georgie pulled on her pelisse haphazardly, already in a mad dash to get out the front door before anyone could stop her. “I’ll be back in more than enough time to dress for the Davenport ball, Mother, I promise!” The door slammed as she scurried into the carriage with her maid, Nettie, close behind her.

  Once settled on the bench, Georgie sighed in relief. She loved her mother and sisters dearly, truly she did, but she needed the calming influence only her friends from Broadmoor Academy could provide. Thank goodness Patience Findley had insisted they all join her for tea this afternoon.

  Not that she could tell them about her plans. She bit her lip while she watched the Mayfair images passing by out the window, racking her mind for a way she could talk to them about it.

  But if Lady Moira Kirkwood heard even one tiny little inkling of what Georgie intended to do, she’d insist that Georgie spend much more time thinking it through and talking it over, despite the fact that she’d already virtually thought herself into the grave over it all. Pippa—better known to the ton as Lady Philippa Casemore—would likely tell her, in no uncertain terms, that she’d gone ‘round the bend for even dreaming of such a thing. And dear, sweet Patience would make certain she knew she was daft and could be giving up her one true chance at making a match.

  When had making a match ever been a priority for Georgie, though? Not ever, that she could remember. Certainly, Mother hoped she might, despite the air of scandal floating around their names, thanks to Percy’s dealings of recent years. But Georgie just wanted to study her books and gain her knowledge. And now? Now, she wanted the sort of knowledge a young lady couldn’t obtain through books and study—scandal be damned.

  She didn’t even really know if flying in a gas balloon would be scandalous. It probably would be, especially considering that she’d be up in the basket alone with Lord Haworth. She would gladly seek someone else out for her adventure, were there anyone else in Town with a balloon. Sadly, there was not. Georgie would do her best, however, to be certain they weren’t seen. As long as Lord Haworth cooperated.

  Gaining his cooperation would be much easier if she could meet the dratted man, though. Somehow, she simply must find a way to meet the viscount, and that likely meant finding a way to sneak past Monty.

  Sneaking past Monty was something she could use her friends’ help with. But…no. That really didn’t seem like a good plan of action. The fewer people who knew what she was planning, the better.

  Almost before she was ready, the carriage rolled to a stop at Hanover Square. The driver came around and set down the steps, then handed first Georgie and then her maid down onto the cobbled path.

  Near giddy with the need to see her friends again, she dashed up the marble steps and through the ornate, gilded door, almost barreling over the butler in her haste. “So sorry!” she called out behind her. “I know the way.”

  Her impatience to see her friends was growing by the moment, until she felt ready to burst with the need to hug them all close to her. Good heavens, it was as though she hadn’t seen them in years, instead of the mere few months’ separation they’d experienced. Granted, the three of them had seen each other last night at the Heathfield Ball, while she’d been forced to attend the Sutherland Ball instead, alone, save for her sisters and Monty.

  Running was far from a decorous manner in which to comport oneself, but Georgie couldn’t seem to avoid it. She dashed all the way to the parlor and straight into Patience’s waiting arms.

  “Tell me everything!” she demanded. “I want to hear every last tiny detail about the Heathfield ball.”

  Numb.

  It was a prickly sort of numbness, one that trailed up Georgie’s spine and crept up the back of her neck to settle at the base of her skull and torture her into madness.

  The numbness must be why she hadn’t noticed it was raining when she left Patience’s house, walking blindly down the street and forgetting about the waiting carriage un
til Nettie took her forcefully by the arm and dragged her inside it.

  She looked down at her sodden afternoon gown and tugged at a lace flounce. Scandal was something Georgie, as a Bexley-Smythe, was altogether too familiar with. She was more than prepared to face her fair share of it, as her elder sisters had both been dragged through the muck and mire over the last couple of years.

  Two of her three dearest friends, however—Pippa and Moira—were absolutely and unequivocally not supposed to be veiled in scandal this Season. Yet both of them had somehow found herself the subject of a bet in the book at White’s.

  Neither of them would receive vouchers for Almack’s. Not now. Not only that, but they’d be turned away, or at least passed over, by some of the haughtier, high-in-the-instep hostesses. It was sure to ruin their chances at making a successful match this Season. Pippa, at least, had the decency to be horrified over her circumstances. One would think they both should be, since they knew full well how difficult life had become for Georgie’s sisters.

  All of that left her simply numb. Dumbfounded, even.

  Her own problem of sorting out how to evade Monty seemed rather trivial, all things considered.

  When the carriage pulled to a stop at Berkeley Square, Nettie dragged Georgie out and up the steps to her home. She tried pulling her all the way up the stairs, but Georgie was in such a daze that she stumbled and fell, and the clatter brought Mother out into the corridor from the parlor.

  “Lud, what have you done with yourself, Georgianna?” The censure was softened, somewhat, by the note of concern in her tone.

  “She got caught in the rain a bit is all, my lady,” Nettie replied when Georgie was unable to form a coherent response. “I should have been quicker with the parasol. We’ll have her sorted out in no time.”