No, that wasn’t true. He’d seen her show emotion once before—the first time they’d met, that night in Covent Garden all those months ago. She’d been furious when she’d come upon him with Sarah and Susannah, outraged to find a rakish lord was trifling with her girls. Why, if she’d had a blade to hand, he didn’t doubt she’d have plunged itinto his heart.
Those girls—orhergirls, as she’d called them that night…
She might not care a fig about his flirtatious winks and insinuating grins, but she wasn’t entirely immoveable. “The girls at the Clifford School—her pupils. Miss Harley may be a hard-hearted, unfeeling, pitiless wretch, but she does care about those girls.”
“She does. About Lady Clifford, too. I know Cecilia would do anything for her ladyship. I’d wager Miss Harley would, as well.”
“Darlington, you’re brilliant.” Benedict hadn’t, in fact, tried everything he could to pry information from Georgiana Harley’s stubborn lips. He hadn’t tried bribery. “Money, then. How much should I offer her?”
“No, not money—”
“Well, what then?” Benedict threw his hands in the air, exasperated. Flirtation wouldn’t do, and neither would bribery? Damned if Georgiana Harley wasn’t the most troublesome female in existence.
“I have a better idea—something that will be impossible for her to refuse. It’s not really my place to tell you this, but I’m fond of Jane, and if she needs help, then for her sake I—”
Benedict groaned. “For God’s sake, Darlington, will you just say it?”
“Lady Clifford wants to expand the Clifford School. She’s been looking for a building for the better part of a year, but she can’t find one that suits.”
Ah. At long last, a glimmer of hope. Benedict leaned forward in his chair. “Whatwouldsuit?”
Darlington shrugged, but his eyes were gleaming. “Something large. They’ve got girls tucked into every corner of the Maddox Street building.”
“You mean, a building like my grandfather’s townhouse on Mill Street, only a few blocks east of Maddox Street? That sort of large, empty building?” Benedict had inherited the townhouse as part of the Haslemere earldom, but he preferred his own townhouse in Berkeley Square. He’d never had any bloody idea what to do with the Mill Street building. It had stood empty for years.
“Yes, I think that building would do nicely. Do you suppose you could come to some sort of agreement with Miss Harley?”
Benedict’s mouth curved in a broad smile. “You know what, Darlington? I think something could be arranged.”
* * * *
Ping.
The first time she heard the noise, Georgiana was certain she’d imagined it. When she heard it the second time—ping—she made up her mind to ignore it. But the third, fourth, and fifth times, onepingafter the next in rapid succession, had her tossing her coverlet aside and dragging herselffrom her bed.
She paused in the middle of the darkened room, listening, but now that she was fully awake, the noise seemed to have magically ceased.
Because of course, it had.
Dash it, why did these strange noises only plagueher? For a practical lady, she seemed always to catch the brunt of every imaginary thump and creak—
Ping.
Ah, there it was. It was coming from the window, like…raindrops pattering against the glass? No, it sounded more like small pellets of ice, but it was the middle of April in London, for pity’s sake. An ice storm was unlikely at this time of year, but unless someone was tossing pebblesat her window—
Georgiana froze.
Someone was tossing pebblesat her window.
She tiptoed toward it, her heart rushing into her throat, because somehow she thought she knew what she’d find when shelooked outside.
Who she’d find…
Georgiana twitched the curtains aside and peeked out, taking care to keep her face hidden with a fold of the linen. At first glance, she didn’t see anything but the darkened street below, but as her eyes adjusted a darker shadow began to take shape. Not a shrub, but a bigger, broad-shouldered shape, with impossibly long, sturdy legs.
The shape of a man, a man who lookedvery much like…
Georgiana let out a soft gasp and darted back behind the curtain. Dash it, it reallywashim! What was he doing, assaulting her window in the middle of the night? No, she must behaving a dream—
