The music faltered as he spoke, and Chadwick’s smirk slipped just slightly. He waved a lazy hand at the women. “Darlings, give us a moment, would you?”
They pouted but drifted away to the next room, the footman quietly following them.
Chadwick sighed, refilled his glass, and finally looked back at Jason. “Yes,” he said simply. “It’s true.”
Jason’s brows shot up. “You’re serious.”
Chadwick gave a one-shouldered shrug. “What can I say? My father’s always been rubbish at cards. He owes Henderville an ungodly amount of money. That’s why I thank the heavens every day I was born a male. Otherwise, I’d be sold off too.”
Jason stared at him, incredulous. “But Henderville is?—”
“Old?” Chadwick supplied helpfully. “Obnoxious? Tight-fisted? A horse’s ass? Yes. All of the above.”
Jason leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees.
“You don’t see why Georgiana might be…loath to marry him?”
Chadwick barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “Of course I do! Didn’t I just say I’m damned glad I was born a man?” He grinned, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in an expression that made Jason’s teeth clench. “Thank Christ it’s not my problem.” Chadwick raised his glass in a mocking toast and tossed back the rest of the brandy.
Jason studied his friend for a long moment, the heat rising steadily in his chest. He’d known Chadwick for years. They’d gotten foxed together, raced horses together, and, yes, chased women together.
But he’d never—not once—heard him speak so callously about his own sister.
His beautiful, stubborn, spirited sister.
“When is the wedding?” Jason asked, doing his best to keep a grim curl of distaste from his lips.
“Three weeks hence,” Chadwick replied easily. “And Georgiana has a troubling habit of running away from parties when her fiancé is present. Which is why I asked you to keep an eye on her.”
Jason’s jaw tightened as Chadwick beckoned the women back in and gestured for the music to resume.
Soon, the room filled with lilting notes and laughter once more, but Jason hardly heard it. His gaze remained fixed on Chadwick as a bitter thought settled in his mind like lead…
No wonder Lady Georgiana doesn’t trust men.
And at the moment, he certainly couldn’t say he blamed her.
Chapter Seven
A sennight later, The Cranberrys’ Ball
Georgie stood with her back to the gilded wall of yet another suffocating London ballroom, holding her half-empty glass of lemonade in front of her chest like a weapon.
Around her, the air was thick with chatter and perfume, and couples whirled across the floor under the glittering chandeliers.
And even though she had always been a decided wallflower, she had never felt more invisible.
Which was just as well. After all, young ladies whose fathers had gambled away their dowries were rarely asked to dance.
No, they were auctioned off to old men instead.
Of course her parents had been angry with her for leaving the Willoughbys’ ball last week. Mother and Father were always angry when she disappeared from ballrooms. Mother had given Georgie the same long-winded lecture she always did. Something about duty and obligation and, most importantly, money.
Georgie pretended to listen like she always did. She’d nodded and blinked and said all the things Mother wanted to hear before finally being left alone in blissful solitude.
But tonight, if Lord Henderville arrived, she had every intention of escaping again. She would not allow that old man to paw at her.
She’d slip away from Mother and Father just like she always did. Honestly, they made it far too easy. All she had to do was tell them she had an urgency to use the convenience and then she simply failed to return. Mother and Father were far too busy talking nonstop to anyone who would listen to them to notice she hadn’t returned in a timely fashion. It had been Henry’s job to watch her.
