She turned on her heel, careful not to walk loudly, but she caught a twig under her slipper, and it cracked under her foot. She froze, and so did the people under the bench.
“What a lovely evening,” she said aloud, as if she’d always been happily trotting along, not trying to be quiet. It was a trick Tom had taught her to keep herself from startling animals caught unawares, which may have posed a danger to both her and them.
“That it is,” came the reply.
Georgie recognized the voice at once. It was Miss Morehouse, who was still wearing her mask.
Miss Morehouse stood. “Lady Georgiana, what a surprise. I thought everyone had returned.”
Miss Howard was seated beside her. Though it was difficult to make out their expressions in the dark, there was a palpable sense of awkwardness in the air. More than awkwardness, actually.
A bell rang out again—this one to signal the ladies to come out of the maze.
“I believe that is our signal,” Georgie replied. “I had been making my way to the entrance, but alas I have a terrible sense of direction and managed to get myself turned around. Shall we find Miss Fairfax and go out together?”
“An excellent idea,” Miss Morehouse said. “Miss Howard had joined me, because, I am loath to admit, I am rather uncomfortable in the dark.”
“Well, it is a good thing,” Georgie, said, smiling at the ladies, eager to put them at ease. Clearly the two women were having an intimate moment, one befitting a relationship that was more than that of mistress and companion, but that was neither her concern nor her business.
The ladies joined her, and after a few twists and turns, they found Miss Fairfax and they walked out together. Miss Fairfax chatted merrily about her encounters, the fact she gave out not one, but two black ribbons, which given her rather sunny disposition surprised Georgie and Miss Morehouse alike, neither of whom had given any.
When they exited the maze, they returned to the blossoming cherry tree near the entry back to the Lyon’s Den. One of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s trusted servants greeted them and bade the ladies to follow her inside to a small parlor that had been kept for their particular use this evening. Miss Howard left for the servants’ parlor, leaving Georgie, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Morehouse to meet with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
“Welcome, ladies,” she said, greeting the ladies. “I am sure you are eager to know the results of this evening’s event.”
Georgie helped herself to a glass of wine from a servant’s tray and sat down before taking a generous sip. After the excitement of the evening, and most especially her encounter with Tom, had started to pass, the heat of the evening had left her filled with something else…a gnawing sense that she’d just made a colossal fool of herself.
Had she really poured her apology out to him? Had he even cared? Instead of merely despising her, perhaps he thought her pathetic too. Begging for a kiss.
What on earth had she been thinking?
“Our three successful gentlemen are Mr. Osbourne—”
The mention of John Osbourne’s name brought a measure of relief. He had seemed interested in some kind of arrangement with her. And while her father would be incredibly angry at first, Mr. Osbourne was the third son of an earl and from a good family. Perhaps in time, Papa would forgive her.
“—Mr. Crowley, and Mr. Worthington.”
Miss Fairfax had clapped at the result, while Miss Morehouse merely nodded. She did not exchange a glance with Georgie.
Georgie sipped on her wine.
“I believe the three gentlemen would make each of you a fine husband,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “In two days’ time, we shall have the final game. I shall send word with instructions tomorrow. In the meantime, if you wish to partake in a game of whist, there are tables available in the private gaming parlor this evening.”
“I thank you,” Miss Morehouse said, “but I must decline. If you could send for my carriage, I would be much obliged to you.”
“Mine as well,” Georgie added. While she did not mind cards, her evening had been far more taxing than even she anticipated. She was tired in body and spirit, so she placed her wine glassaside and pulled herself to her feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, for your inventive game and your invitation, but I’m afraid I’m not naturally given to late evenings.”
Besides, it was likely Tom was still in the building, and she couldn’t bear to face him.
Soon, both she and Miss Morehouse, along with Miss Howard and Lily, who’d accompanied Georgie this evening, were dressed and waiting for the carriages. A lingering awkwardness remained even as the ladies were escorted to their carriages, where a footman was dutifully waiting.
Miss Morehouse paused, nodding to Georgie. “We shall see each other in two days.”
“Of course,” Georgie said, then paused before turning back to her. “I am staying with the Baroness D’Anville, in Mayfair. I would be more than pleased if you and Miss Howard would like to come for tea tomorrow. You will find the baroness a very welcome hostess. Some say she is an eccentric, but I find her very good company indeed.”
It was an impulsive invitation to be sure. But Miss Morehouse had made her preference for Tom’s hand clear, and Georgie wanted the opportunity to know his bride better. To know that he would be in good hands.
“Thank you,” Miss Morehouse answered. “I shall be by promptly at two.”
