Page 53 of One Night with a Rake

“Call it what ye will. If a jar is filled with biscuits, it’s still a biscuit jar.”

“That’s not very charitable, coming from a former…biscuit.”

“I don’t fault the girls. They are what they are.” Mercy finally remembered her duties and began to help Georgette out of her ensemble. “But that fool Mr. Darling. He’s too gullible by half.”

“He’s only there for the residents’ protection until Lord Nathaniel can replace Mr. Bagley.” Georgette spared a few uncharitable thoughts for the former pugilist who couldn’t be bothered to do his job.

“They’ll have Reuben protectin’ them, all right. Right out of their pantalets.”

Georgette stepped out of hers and raised her arms so Mercy could slip her night shift on over her head. Her maid was none too delicate with the sheer linen and lace.

“Careful. You’ll rip the seams,” Georgette said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

Mercy made a rude snorting sound. “It makes no never mind to me where that oaf decides to dip his wick. If he thinks for one minute that it matters to me if he tups every slattern in Covent Garden, well…”

The rest of the sentiment descended into more profanity than Georgette could decipher, but she definitely understood what was behind her maid’s outburst. It did matter to Mercy if Reuben Darling took one of the Sirens to his bed. It mattered a great deal.

“If it’s any consolation, Mr. Darling was concerned about what you’d think of the plan,” Georgette said.

“He was?”

“He asked me to be sure to explain the situation to you. He was most particular about it.” Georgette crossed over to her bed and waited while Mercy turned down the bedclothes. “He most especially wanted you to know that his staying at the House of Sirens was not his idea.”

Mercy snorted again. “As if that great lummock ever had an idea.”

“‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” Georgette quoted under her breath. “Mr. Darling seems to care about you a great deal. And I suspect you care about him or you wouldn’t take on so over this. Why do you deny what you feel?”

Mercy’s tough expression softened a bit. “Milady, I been on my own since I was ten. I learned early on that the only one who really cared about me was me. And if I trusted someone besides myself, I was bound to be disappointed by ’em, and sooner rather than later.” Her mouth tightened into its usual determined set. “Reuben Darling may act like he’s wantin’ to look out for me, but when all’s said and done, he’s just a man. And men think with their little heads more often than their big ones.”

“That’s terribly cynical.” And terribly coarse, but Georgette had become accustomed to Mercy’s forays into the vulgar tongue. They were often amusing and always enlightening. This time, though, Georgette sensed Mercy’s pain simmering under the profanity.

“If cynical means I don’t let no one close enough to hurt me,” Mercy said, “then I guess that’s what I am.”

“Don’t you ever want to take a chance on trusting someone, to just follow your heart?”

“No. Best I keep me heart tucked away safe and sound.” Mercy frowned as she smoothed the covers around Georgette and dipped in the shallowest of curtsies. “If that’ll be all, milady.”

“Yes, Mercy, that’ll do,” Georgette said, feeling more than a little reprimanded by her own servant, but she supposed she had pried more than she ought. “Thank you.”

Her maid headed for the door, but stopped when her hand fell on the crystal knob. “Ye’ve always said I should speak my mind.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, then, ye may think this is too forward of me by half, but ye know, milady, ye’re a fine one to talk about followin’ yer heart and not denyin’ what ye feel.” Mercy fisted her hands at her waist. “I see the look on your face whenever Lord Nathaniel is around. Ye light up like a thousand candles. But I notice ye’re not about to take yer own advice.”

Georgette swallowed hard. The way she felt about Nate was writ plainly on her face. Who else had seen? “You’re right, Mercy.”

Her maid beamed.

“That is too forward. By more than half.” Georgette leaned over and blew out the bedside candle. “Good night.”

***

If Nathaniel Colton was a betting man—and he was—he’d lay odds that Georgette would not slip out of her chamber and come to him by night. There was far too much risk involved for too little reward. If she was caught in his room, she could kiss the royal match good-bye.

Which was why he’d decided to make it her choice.

The threat to his family from Mr. Alcock hadn’t abated one whit, yet Nate couldn’t bring himself to ruin Georgette.