That is, a nightmare. Not adream, but a nightmare.
Ping.
A nightmare was managed easily enough. She’d simply burrow under her covers and drag her pillow over her head, just as she would with any other nightmare.
Ping, ping, ping.
An earl-shaped nightmare loud enough to wake the dead, or at least to wakeDaniel Brixton.
Ping.
It was the thought of Daniel more than anything else that had Georgiana tugging the drapes aside and jerking up the window. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed. “What in the world do you think you’re doing, my lord?”
There was a pause, then the absurd man swept his hat from his head, and sketched an extravagant bow. He actuallybowed, as if he’d met her on the promenade in Hyde Park. “Good evening, Miss Harley.”
“There’s nothing good about it,” Georgiana snapped. “Go away, before Mr. Brixton sees you and fires a pistol ball into your skull.”
She ducked back inside, but before she could close the window, his voice drifted back up to her. “I have a business proposition for you. Come downand let me in.”
Let him in? Why, he truly had gone mad! She poked her head out the window again. “Do you have any idea what Daniel Brixton will do to you if he catches you here?” And that was to say nothing of Lady Clifford, who could be a great deal more frightening than Daniel when her temper was roused.
“Hewillcatch me here if you insist on conducting our negotiations through the window.” He tutted, shaking his head as if she were anaughty child.
“We have nothing to negotiate!” Georgiana meant to whisper, but her ire made her voice louder than it should be. She jerked her head back inside and cast a fearful look at Emma’s bed before recalling Emma wasn’t there.
She was on her own. On her own with a large, persistent earl who—
“Miss Harley?Are you there?”
An earl who didn’t have the sense to keep his voice lowered. Georgiana drew in a deep breath and thrust her head back out the window. “I already told you, my lord. I have nothingto say to you.”
He was quiet for a moment, then, “Is this aboutthe preserves?”
She stared down at him, baffled. Preserves? What was the man on aboutnow? What pre—
Oh. Her quince preserves. Her sweet, lovely, delicious quince preserves that he’d sent to a syrupy grave with his foolishness. It didn’t have to do with the preserves, though if the truth were told, the loss of them hadn’t helpedhis cause any.
Even from up here Georgiana could hear his exasperated sigh. “Answer the question, Miss Harley. Are you holding a grudge against me because of the quince preserves? If you’re that put out about it, I’ll scour London until I find you something else—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Georgiana tugged the window down, lit a candle, then snatched up her cloak and hat and scurried from her bedchamber, muttering furiously to herself as she made her way down the stairs. “…a menace…meddling, arrogant rake…should just let Daniel have him, only…only…”
Only a pistol shot would wake Lady Clifford and the girls. It wasn’t because she cared a whit for Lord Haslemere’s welfare.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, hurried down the hallway, and opened the front door, wincing as her bare feet landed on the cold stone of the top step. She didn’t venture any further, but glared down at Lord Haslemere, who was waiting on the pavement. “Well?”
He didn’t answer right away, but frowned as he took her in from head to toe. “Do yousleepin thatcloak and hat?”
“What?” Georgiana glanced down at herself and huffed out a breath. “What kind of absurd question is that?”
“I was just curious. Aside from Lady Wylde’s ball tonight, I’ve hardly ever seen you out of it.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “The hat doesn’t suit you. The cloak either, but the hat isworse by far.”
Georgiana raised a self-conscious hand to her head, then jerked it away again, furious with herself. “Is that why you came here in the middle of the night, my lord? To find out whatI wear to bed?”
His brow furrowed. “No. Why should I comehere for that?”
“I’ll give you exactly one minute to explain what you’re doing here, Lord Haslemere, and then I’m going to wake Daniel Brixton.”
“My, you’re cross when you first wake up, aren’t you?”
