“Put it in my pocket. I do not want to risk crushing it. My gardener will know the variety.”
Taking it from him, Georgia opened his coat pocket as wide as she could and then gently inserted her hand, the rose flower cupped within the protective curve of her fingers. At the last moment, just as she was about to remove her hand, Keaton felt it close convulsively.
“Oh, no! Not here!” she whispered.
There was fear in her voice, and Keaton forgot the crushed flower.
“Who?” he asked, assuming it was someone she had seen.
“Lady Georgia, you are here too,” was the greeting.
Keaton recognized the voice instantly. He had heard that man threatening to thrash Georgia. To treat her like an animal. It was Lord Emsworth, her former fiancé.
“Your Graceis the proper term of address for a Duchess, Emsworth,” Keaton declared, flatly.
“Of course. I was forgetting. Your Grace!” Emsworth said expansively.
The next time he spoke, his voice was much closer. Brandy fumes wafted from his mouth.
“Though I believe we all three know that she is not a Duchess, is she?”
Keaton leaned closer to the voice, pinpointing it and looking where he expected Emsworth’s eyes to be.
“Repeat that,” he muttered darkly.
Anger had him by the throat, but he maintained a modicum of control.
“I recall giving you a sound thrashing once already, and I am more than happy to do it again,” Keaton said with a smile that bared teeth.
“I would not advise antagonizing me, Your Grace,” Emsworth whispered as he inched closer to Keaton’s shoulder, “for you may not care for the consequences, but your…wifecertainly will.”
“Are you threatening my wife now, you cur dog!” Keaton snarled, leaning so close that he was almost speaking in Emsworth’s ear.
He felt Georgia’s hand on his sleeve, tight, as though trying with all of her strength to hold him back. This close, he was certain he could land at least two blows that would floor Lord Emsworth, though at the cost of a scandal that would be difficult to dissipate inside of a year.
“Notyourwife.Myfuture wife might be the one to regret it. You see, after the debacle at Almack's with this… young lady,” Emsworth said in an oily tone that set Keaton’s blood to erupting, “I maintained a close relationship with her family. It seemed sensible to hold onto useful alliances. And Lord Silverton was very sympathetic to my cause. So sympathetic in fact, that when I inquired about his daughter…”
“Amelia!” Georgia gasped.
“Indeed,” Emsworth answered, in a voice laden with satisfaction.
“What have you done?” Georgia demanded.
“Keep your voice down, Your Grace. There are eyes and ears all around us just waiting for a sniff of controversy,” Emsworth muttered. “I have done nothing except propose marriage to the most beautiful, young woman it has ever been my considerable pleasure to encounter.”
“Where is she?” Georgia demanded, her voice reduced to a grating whisper.
“Sent away by her father to contemplate her new life to come. I will be sending for her soon, and I am sure you will receive an invitation to our nuptials. Anyway, I thought I would share the good news in person. Must dash, Your Graces. I hope we can be friends.”
Keaton heard him leave, heard Georgia’s rapid, harsh breathing. He took her hand in his and leaned close to her.
“We will excuse ourselves from this circus and decide what to do about this nonsense. But at this moment, we are in a zoo and surrounded by gawkers.”
“I do not care,” Georgia breathed, emotion painting her voice.
“Yes, you do. Go after him if you wish. I will happily take my cane to the fellow and beat him to within an inch of his life. And he will bear that grudge and take it out on your cousin once he is her lord and master. Is that what you want? Or do you want to be able to call on the favor and good feeling of the ton?”
Georgia pushed back. “How can you be so calm? Would you be able to rationalize so coolly if Amelia wereyourcousin? Or your sister?”
