“This is an excellent spot,” Georgia finally announced, “a pleasant cluster of willow providing some shade and a vacant bench.”
“Rare enough at Ranelagh—even after the rotunda was demolished, people still seem to come here in droves,” Thorne remarked, sighing as he sat, as though glad to take the weight from his feet.
Keaton felt the wrought iron armrest of the bench and sat too, Georgia sitting next to him. He heard the striking of flint and steel, then the bitter, woody smell of burning tobacco.
“We have all the privacy this place can afford,” Keaton declared. “Now, I should like to know what youthinkis going on?”
“Your Grace, I have no answers when it comes to my letter. I am not aware of any previous correspondence being misplaced.”
“But you had news of import?”
“A member of Palin's, the gentlemen's club for expl—”
“I know it. I am a member,” Keaton cut in impatiently.
“He intimated that he might recognize the ring from a description I gave. He claims to have sighted a man wearing such a unique ring on the night of your accident.”
“And this man was a member of Palin's?”
“Hewas, but has not been seen at the club from that day to this,” Thorpe replied.
Keaton thumped a fist against the arm of the bench, grinding his teeth. “Then we truly are no further forward.”
“It does not sound that way to me,” Georgia put in with optimism. “If this ring can be identified, then you are a step closer to the man who gave it to you and clearing the mystery around what happened that night.”
“My thoughts exactly, Your Grace,” Thorne nodded, “if I might have the ring for a while. No more than a day, I will have some definite information for you, I am certain of it.”
“Very well!” Keaton snapped, then moderated his tone, “Very well, Thorne. When I return to Westvale in a few hours, I will fetch the ring. Come to the house around supper time, and you will have it.”
Thorne took his leave. Keaton sat in silence for a moment.
“Does this not make you happy?” Georgia asked after a while.
Keaton stirred, realizing that he had been somewhere else for a moment.
“Yes, of course. A step closer to understanding. It has been my quest for a long time. It is just that...”
He felt Georgia's fingers intertwine with his own. His mind went back to the previous night, to her luscious body beneath his mouth. They'd been forced to scurry through backstreets, Keaton's coat concealing her nakedness, the dress that was supposed to do the job in tatters. They'd found a cab and got back to Westvale without incident. It had been the most exciting night of Keaton's life. Not the ball and not even the lovemaking, not quite anyway, but the daring dash through the night-haunted streets with Georgia by his side. Exposure and scandal had been ever-present.
By God, but I do not think I have ever felt so alive as in that moment!
“You do not sound convinced,” Georgia breathed, her voice close to his ear.
It was like a red-hot poker through his body, searing his blood and inflaming his senses. He turned to her, sensing the closeness of her lips, a breath from his own. The effort of self-control was an unbearable torture. By her rapid breathing, he could tell it was the same for her also.
“I remember the...freedomof last night. I have never felt so free.” He whispered.
“Nor I. I wish... I hope that it will not be the last time,” she replied.
A gust of laughter swept over them, a raucous gentleman passing by. A bee buzzed somewhere behind. The scent of flowers, heady and sultry, mixed with the pure and innocent aroma of the soap Georgia favored. Keaton was sure it was perfectly ordinary, but when it came into contact with Georgia's delicious, soft skin, it became something divine. And it aroused him to the ardor of a rutting stag.
“It will not be,” he promised.
“Will you tell me now what happened to you? What do you remember? All I have are tidbits from hearing others. I have never had it from you directly.”
Keaton breathed in through his nose, feeling the familiar reluctance to speak, the fear of weakness and vulnerability.
But after all, castle walls were rendered obsolete by gunpowder. Georgia has rendered my walls just as redundant. They cannot withstand her barrage.
