“And it wouldn’t be entirely awful if he were smitten,” Poppy added with a sly smile. “He’s as handsome as Nicholas Archer.”
“I’ve heard he is a marvelous kisser,” Bea added. “Lord Pembroke, I mean. Not Nicholas Archer.”
Georgie’s mouth dropped open. She honestly couldn’t help it. “Who told you Lord Pembroke is a marvelous kisser?”
Bea winked at her. “I never reveal secrets, but suffice it to say it was someone in a position to know.”
Georgie was torn. On one hand, she was heartened to know that Bea never revealed secrets. Of course she’d thought that was the case, but Bea was holding quite a few of Georgie’s own secrets at the moment, and having reassurance that she wouldn’t betray her confidence was quite welcome. On the other hand, Georgie was practically dying to know who had kissed Lord Pembroke. She wasn’t about to examine the other thought that cropped up in her mind. The one that was slightly jealous of whoever this mystery person might be.
“My source told me it was quite a pleasure,” Bea continued. “And apparently, it was practically indecent.”
Oh, no. Now Georgie was even more curious. And why did an indecent kiss with Lord Pembroke sound entirely too inviting?
“What’s an indecent kiss?” Poppy wanted to know.
“I’m not entirely certain,” Bea replied with a sly smile. “At the time, I wasn’t brave enough to ask.”
“Well, I’m certain there won’t be any opportunity for me to share a kiss—indecent or otherwise—with Lord Pembroke,” Georgie insisted. She was trying her best to ignore the thrill that shot through her body as she remembered how he’d backed her up against the wall in the Willoughbys’ garden. Oh, dear, that wasn’t helping the situation at all. A wave of heat swept through her, pooling directly between her legs.
She stood abruptly. “I should get home. Thank you for hosting the Society meeting here, Bea.”
Bea and Poppy stood too.
“My pleasure,” Bea replied. “Mama is only too happy to allow young women to sit alone and discuss whatever they desire as long as no gentlemen are present.”
Poppy sighed. “I wish my mama would allow me to sit alone. She likes an audience too much. She’ll probably send the butler for me if I don’t get home soon.”
After giving Poppy a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder, Georgie turned and headed toward the door. But Bea’s final words followed her. “Don’t be too quick to dismiss the opportunity,” she called, “if it were to arise.”
Georgie spun around to face her friend. “What opportunity?”
“Why to allow Lord Pembroke to kiss you indecently,” Bea replied with a wink. “It may be the only chance you get.”
Chapter Twelve
It was nearly midnight, and Jason stood behind the Chadwicks’ grand, yet rundown town house, his boots scuffing through the dust near the mews, and wondered for the dozenth time what the hell he was doing here.
The night air was cool, damp, and smelled faintly of horse and coal smoke, though it was quiet enough back here to hear his own thoughts, which was unfortunate, because his thoughts had been nothing but trouble all week.
He shouldn’t have come.
He knew he shouldn’t have come.
And yet, here he was.
He checked his timepiece again, the moonlight just bright enough to catch the hands, two minutes before midnight.
Georgiana’s note—hastily scribbled, the folds creased as though she’d written it standing up—had arrived earlier that day.
Meet me at midnight at the mews behind my father’s house.
Jason had stared at the note far longer than he cared to admit.
Ill-advised. Reckless. Wrong, even.
And yet he’d found himself here at the appointed place and time without so much as pausing to question why she would want to see him.
Jason shoved his hands into his coat pockets and let out a breath, his eyes on the back door of the town house.
