“Miss Georgiana,” she corrected. “Never you mind where she is. It’s a good thing she’s not hanging around after you—maybe she’s finally over you. You leave her alone.”
He knew what was wrong with Georgie. He’d botched it when he took her to bed, and the time in the butler’s pantry had sealed it. She was a gently bred girl, she was probably horrified by the whole experience and she couldn’t face him.
He had butler duties to perform, and he headed for the stillroom, but something stopped him. He wasn’t going to be able to move ahead until he was sure she was safe.
He moved silently up the backstairs, heading toward the bedrooms. The doors were closed, keeping the heat inside, and when he reached Georgie’s, he hesitated. He told her he wouldn’t see her again. Wouldn’t touch her again. Could he keep that promise? He knocked on the door.
There was no answer, and he knocked a little more loudly. Finally he pushed the door open to find the room deserted, and a feeling of foreboding came over him. She was probably in the library, reading one of her French novels, but there was no sign of her. Anywhere.
Finally, he knocked on Neddy’s door, pushing it open to see Neddy and Martina curled up on a sofa, a pack of cards between them. “Have you see Miss Georgiana?”
Neddy looked up, a lot more sharp-eyed than he’d first been. In fact, he hadn’t passed out at the table or been carried to bed in days—Martina must have worked her magic. “Where’s Georgie?”
“I don’t know. I can’t find any sign of her in the house.”
Martina had jumped up, smoothing her skirts. “Do you suppose she’s gone out? She would have asked one of us to accompany her.”
“That’s the last thing she’s going to ask me,” he said bitterly.
“Why shouldn’t she?” Neddy asked, his new sobriety inconvenient.
“You know she has a crush on Rafferty,” Martina said patiently. “I told her it was a waste of time.”
“What did you say?” Rafferty demanded.
“My sister’s in love with the butler?” Neddy demanded, sharp-eyed.
“It’s infatuation, nothing more. I told her he didn’t care about her and she finally believed me,” Martina said.
“And now we can’t find her,” Rafferty said bitterly.
“You don’t suppose she’s gone out on her own?” she asked.
“That’s exactly what she’s done,” Rafferty said. “I’m going to beat her.”
“I beg your pardon!” Neddy said frostily.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Martina told him. “In the meantime, we need to find her before Stiles does.”
“Who the hell is Stiles?” Neddy said.
“Later,” Martina said. “We need to go.”
Neddy rose. “I’m going too. She’s my sister, after all.”
Martina merely nodded, and Rafferty observed the two of them with no particular surprise and no room for worry. Georgie was missing, and that was enough fear to keep him going until he found the wretched brat. Whether he was going to spank her or kiss her was the question, so maybe it was a good idea that her brother was searching too.
Night had already fallen, the streetlamps sending a fitful light to guide him. Neddy and Martina had headed toward the parks, though the thought of Georgie alone in a park after dark terrified him. She was so bloody fearless, and too innocent to realize her danger. Her being anywhere after dark, alone, without him to protect her, was enough to send cold shivers through him, and he moved faster. He had people he could ask, down by the docks, and he pushed through the thinning crowds, heading toward the slums, when a carriage pulled up beside him.
“Rafferty, me boy,” came Billy Stiles’s jovial voice. “Out on the town, I see, when you ought to be home searching for my money.”
Rafferty stopped in his tracks. “What do you want, Billy?” He didn’t make the mistake of thinking this was a coincidence.
“The question, my boy, is what do you want? I have a young lady here who is most anxious to return home.”
Ice formed in his veins. “Let her go, Billy.”
“Oh, I think not. I’m tired of waiting—I told you that. It’s time for you to bring me my money.”
