“I don’t know yet!” he snapped, finally throwing up his hands.
She arched a brow. “Well. At least you admit it.”
He groaned, pacing the room now, his boots thudding softly against the rug. “I couldn’t let you ruin yourself and run off to Bath,” he muttered.
She rolled her eyes. “The ruining is already over,” she reminded him pointedly, “so the Bath part is hardly the scandal.”
He stopped pacing long enough to glare at her. “If you and I are found together—” he began.
“No, no,” she cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “That won’t happen. But you’ve already made certain everyone saw you snatch me up at the coaching station, so it seems you’ve ruined me far more effectively than I ever managed to ruin myself. If you had some ill-conceived notion of saving my reputation, it’s long since gone.”
He froze at that, clearly struck. “There has to be a way out of this,” he murmured, mostly to himself, pacing again.
“There is,” she said at once.
His head snapped up to face her. “What?”
She nodded primly. The man was clearly a lunatic, but surely he’d see reason when it was pointed out to him. “Take me back to the coaching station. My friend will be waiting in Bath. She’ll be worried if I don’t arrive.”
But Pembroke was already shaking his head, muttering under his breath as he resumed pacing, scrubbing a hand through his hair until it stood on end.
“There’s got to be another way,” he said grimly.
She flopped back into the chair and glared at him. “Well. Do let me know when you’ve thought of it.”
He ignored her entirely, still muttering to himself and pacing a path into the rug when a knock came at the door.
Pembroke froze, his head whipping toward the sound. His eyes narrowed. “Who could that be?” he murmured.
A moment later, his butler appeared, looking harried. “My lord,” he began, “it’s?—”
But he didn’t have the chance to finish before Georgie’s parents burst into the room. Her mother’s skirts practically catching fire from the speed with which she entered, her father quickly following with a self-satisfied smirk.
“She’s here!” Mama cried, triumphant. “I knew it!”
Georgie sank deeper into the chair, groaning quietly.
Pembroke blinked at the sudden onslaught, his hands lifting instinctively as if he could physically hold back the chaos now barreling toward him.
“Now wait just a?—”
“You’ve thoroughly disgraced us!” Mama continued, pointing a trembling finger at her.
“It’s not what it looks like—” Jason tried to say, but Father cut him off with a dismissive wave.
“We don’t care what it looks like,” Father insisted. “All we care about is returning Lord Henderville’s bride to him. He’s at the church still waiting, poor fellow.”
“What?” Pembroke blurted, visibly flabbergasted.
“Of course he’s waiting,” Mama sniffed.
At that moment, Henry made his entrance, hobbling awkwardly into the room on his cane. His voice soon added to the cacophony in the room.
But in the midst of all the yelling—Henry calling Pembroke names, Mama calling Georgie names, Father threatening to call out Pembroke—Georgie saw her opportunity.
She slipped from the chair, moved toward the window, and, when no one was looking, shoved it open and swung one leg over the sill.
That, at least, got everyone’s attention.
