Bea rolled her eyes. “Undoubtedly, that is Lord Vanover,” she muttered, rising to peer toward the salon door. “My father’s favorite sycophant. He’s forever stopping by to discuss parliamentary business…which means I must take my leave soon.”
“Oh, yes, the man you were hiding from.” Poppy raised an eyebrow. “But why do you need to take your leave? I thought you didn’t like him.”
Bea waved a dismissive hand. “Of course I don’t like him. But helpfully, my bedchamber is directly above my father’s study, and if I press my ear to the floor, I can hear everything they say.”
Georgie shook her head. But she couldn’t help her smile. “And you enjoy eavesdropping on their dry, tedious political discussions?”
Bea’s eyes sparkled. “Of course not. But how else,” she said sweetly, “can I plan to ruin him?”
Georgie and Poppy both laughed—though Georgie could tell from the set of Bea’s mouth that she wasn’t entirely joking.
Not for the first time, Georgie had the thought that she was truly glad to be Bea’s friend. It was obviously preferable to being her enemy. In fact, Georgie felt a bit sorry for Nicholas Archer.
As the sound of male voices drifted away, Georgie leaned back into the settee cushions with a sigh.
“This is all going to work,” Poppy whispered, a little too hopeful. “Isn’t it?”
Georgie gave her a half-smile. “It has to.”
She meant it. And yet?—
Her gaze drifted to the gold-draped window, where sunlight angled in and caught the shimmer of Bea’s flaxen hair. Georgie reached up to her own head and patted it, trying to shake loose the thought that had been lurking for days now.
Lord Pembroke.
She still couldn’t decide exactly how to feel about his interference at the Cranberrys’ ball.
He hadn’t stopped her that night. He’d let her go. And ever since, he’d been cropping up in the most inconvenient places. At Hyde Park when she’d tried to walk alone. On Bond Street when she’d darted into a bookshop. Even—Heaven help her—at Hatchards, pretending to be absorbed in a volume of naval history when he was clearly watching her from across the aisle.
At first, she’d assumed it was coincidence. But Lord Pembroke was many things, and accidental was not one of them.
“Bea,” she said suddenly, interrupting her own thoughts. “Do you happen to know anything about Lord Pembroke?”
Bea blinked at her. “Hmm. A little. Why do you ask?”
Georgie pressed her lips together. “Because I believe he’s been following me.”
Bea’s eyes widened and Poppy scooted forward on the settee. “Pardon?” they both said simultaneously.
Georgie nodded. “Yes, apparently my ne’er-do-well brother asked Lord Pembroke to keep an eye on me.”
“Are you serious?” Bea replied, already looking outraged. “Why didn’t you tell me? What if he attempts to thwart our plans at the wedding?”
“I’m not certain he means to,” Georgie replied. “Last time I slipped away, he helped me.”
“Helped you?” Poppy echoed. “What do you mean?”
Georgie shrugged. “I mean he actually allowed me to go and later Mother mentioned that he’d asked her to dance after I left, I’m certain of it.”
“Well, what do you make of that?” Poppy asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Perhaps he’s smitten with you, Georgie,” Bea offered.
“Oh, no, not all,” Georgie replied, waving her hands back and forth in front of her face. “He told me he owes my brother a favor.”
“If he owed your brother a favor, he’d have stopped you,” Bea pointed out, her eyebrow fully arched.
Georgie sat there, biting her lip…a bit dumbfounded. It wasn’t usual for her to be at a loss for words.
