He scowled at her back. Perhaps she was simply employing the oldest feminine trick in the book—dramatic falsehoods to gain her way.
Except…she didn’t seem the type.
And God help him, that flash in her eyes when she’d looked at him with an expression that clearly said, Now do you see why I’m trying to flee? Frankly, it had looked heartbreakingly real.
Jason forced the thought away. Irrelevant.
He’d promised Chadwick he’d watch over her, and he would. He owed Chadwick that much.
Jason stopped at the bottom of the staircase and glanced around. The servants’ corridor was empty, save for the faint scent of coal dust and soap. A row of cloaks and shawls hung on a pegboard along the wall.
“Stay here,” he ordered gruffly.
Georgiana raised a brow but kept silent…for once.
He plucked a plain dark scarf from the peg and, after a moment’s search of his inner coat pocket, left a pound note in its place—more than enough to cover the cost.
When he turned back, Georgiana was watching him with those large, clever eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked finally, suspicion lacing her tone.
He stepped close—closer than he strictly needed to—and lifted the scarf. “Keeping you from being recognized.”
Before she could protest, he draped the scarf over her head, tucking it around her face until only a glimpse of her cheeks and lips remained visible.
“There,” he murmured. “Better.”
She opened her mouth.
“Don’t speak,” he cut her off. “You’ve already done quite enough for one evening.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you always order people about like a field marshal?” she hissed.
“Only people who try to climb out of windows,” he said flatly.
He took her arm—not roughly, but firmly—and led her out the side door into the night.
The air outside was crisp, laced with the faint scent of roses from the gardens and a distant tang of woodsmoke.
Georgiana stumbled once on the gravel path, and his hand automatically steadied her at the elbow. She looked up at him then, her lips parting as though she meant to speak again.
Jason didn’t even give her the chance. “I’m in charge here,” he said evenly. “And you’ll do as you’re told. Silently. Understood?”
She huffed, the faintest puff of breath fogging in the cool night. But she nodded.
He nodded back, satisfied, and led her across the lawn, keeping to the shadows.
They’d nearly reached the far wall of the garden when the unmistakable sound of laughter and footsteps spilled out from a pair of French doors leading from the house. Jason froze, tightening his hold on Georgiana’s arm.
A trio of drunken young gentlemen stumbled into the garden, all high spirits and flushed cheeks, their voices carrying across the moonlit grass.
“Damn,” Jason muttered under his breath.
Georgiana tilted her head up at him, her expression questioning.
He didn’t have time to explain. Instead, he backed her into the nearest shadowed alcove and pressed her shoulders gently but firmly against the cool brick wall.
“Stay still,” he murmured, bending his head close to hers.
