Gasping, she froze. No sound came from the house, and after a moment she let her breath out shakily. Hiking her skirt to her knees, she clambered over the sill and into the dark house. The hem of her gown caught on the window latch, and as she freed it she nearly lost her balance. Catching herself up against the solid bookcase that abutted the window, Georgiana tried to collect her fraying wits.
The hard part was finished, she told herself. Now that she was in the house, it would merely be a matter of searching through a few empty bedchambers until she found the correct one. She took a step away from the bookcase, and then another, almost feeling her way toward the even darker doorway. Then something moved in the corner of her vision, and she drew in a breath to shriek.
A hand clamped over her mouth. Georgiana struck out blindly, her fist meeting something solid, and then she lost her balance, falling facedown to the floor with a heavy form on top of her.
“Georgiana, stop it,” Tristan’s familiar murmur sounded in her ear.
With a muffled half sob she relaxed, and he removed his hand from her mouth. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
He shifted off of her and helped her to her feet. “The same thing you are, I would imagine.”
In the deep gloom she could make out little more than a large dark form and faintly luminous eyes, and a set of white teeth formed in a smile. He would think this was amusing. “How did you know it was me?”
“I smelled lavender,” he answered, running his fingers through the tail of hair that hung over her shoulder. “And then I heard you curse.”
“Ladies don’t curse,” she returned in the same, nearly soundless voice. His presence calmed her immensely, but his touch set her nerves fluttering in a completely different, much more pleasant, way.
Belatedly, it dawned on her that he was here for the same reason she was. Tristan had broken into Johns House to steal back her things so no one could hurt her with them. Georgiana rose up on her toes and touched her lips to his. He kissed her back, drawing her up against him.
“What was that for?” he whispered. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“To thank you. This is quite heroic of you.”
She felt more than saw his sudden frown. “Don’t thank me, Georgie. This is my fault.”
“No, it’s n—”
“I’ll take care of things from here,” he continued, ignoring her protest. “Go home, and I’ll let you know when I have your items.”
“No. You go home, and I’ll let you know when I have my things back.”
“Georgi—”
“They are my things, Tristan. I want to do this.” She grabbed him by the lapels and shook him a little. “I need to do this. I won’t be someone’s victim again.”
He was silent for a long moment, until finally, she felt him sigh. “All right. But follow me, and do exactly as I tell you.”
She started to protest again, but thought better of it. She knew from personal experience that he’d snuck about in dark houses more than she had. “Fine.”
“You saw Westbrook yesterday,” he murmured, taking her shoulders in his hands. “What did you tell him?”
“This really isn’t the time or place for that conversation.”
“It’s the perfect place for it. Tell me that you told him no.”
Georgiana looked into his shadowed eyes. Comfort and peace had their merits, but they were nothing compared with the heat and humor of Lord Dare. “I told him no.”
“Good. Let’s go, then.”
Tristan took Georgiana’s hand and let the way into the hall. The servants had put out every light on the ground floor, making traversing the hallway to the stairs difficult. At least if a servant appeared, he and Georgie would have a good chance of hiding before they were seen.
At the top of the stairs he hesitated. Georgiana bumped into him from behind, and uttered another barely audible curse.
“Do you know where you’re going?” she whispered.
He faced her. “And why would I know the location of Amelia’s bedchamber?”
“You knew where mine was.”
