Chapter 17 #2
Keaton leaned closer to the voice, pinpointing it and looking where he expected Emsworth’s eyes to be.
“Repeat that,” he muttered darkly.
Anger had him by the throat, but he maintained a modicum of control.
“I recall giving you a sound thrashing once already, and I am more than happy to do it again,” Keaton said with a smile that bared teeth.
“I would not advise antagonizing me, Your Grace,” Emsworth whispered as he inched closer to Keaton’s shoulder, “for you may not care for the consequences, but your… wife certainly will.”
“Are you threatening my wife now, you cur dog!” Keaton snarled, leaning so close that he was almost speaking in Emsworth’s ear.
He felt Georgia’s hand on his sleeve, tight, as though trying with all of her strength to hold him back. This close, he was certain he could land at least two blows that would floor Lord Emsworth, though at the cost of a scandal that would be difficult to dissipate inside of a year.
“Not your wife. My future wife might be the one to regret it. You see, after the debacle at Almack's with this… young lady,” Emsworth said in an oily tone that set Keaton’s blood to erupting, “I maintained a close relationship with her family. It seemed sensible to hold onto useful alliances. And Lord Silverton was very sympathetic to my cause. So sympathetic in fact, that when I inquired about his daughter…”
“Amelia!” Georgia gasped.
“Indeed,” Emsworth answered, in a voice laden with satisfaction.
“What have you done?” Georgia demanded.
“Keep your voice down, Your Grace. There are eyes and ears all around us just waiting for a sniff of controversy,” Emsworth muttered. “I have done nothing except propose marriage to the most beautiful, young woman it has ever been my considerable pleasure to encounter.”
“Where is she?” Georgia demanded, her voice reduced to a grating whisper.
“Sent away by her father to contemplate her new life to come. I will be sending for her soon, and I am sure you will receive an invitation to our nuptials. Anyway, I thought I would share the good news in person. Must dash, Your Graces. I hope we can be friends.”
Keaton heard him leave, heard Georgia’s rapid, harsh breathing. He took her hand in his and leaned close to her.
“We will excuse ourselves from this circus and decide what to do about this nonsense. But at this moment, we are in a zoo and surrounded by gawkers.”
“I do not care,” Georgia breathed, emotion painting her voice.
“Yes, you do. Go after him if you wish. I will happily take my cane to the fellow and beat him to within an inch of his life. And he will bear that grudge and take it out on your cousin once he is her lord and master. Is that what you want? Or do you want to be able to call on the favor and good feeling of the ton?”
Georgia pushed back. “How can you be so calm? Would you be able to rationalize so coolly if Amelia were your cousin? Or your sister?”
Keaton felt sure that her voice must be attracting eyes and ears.
He smiled and took a step before realizing that she was not following.
She was silent, and it took effort for him to focus on the sound of her breathing, the scent of the soap she wore, and the lavender trace from her clothes.
In that brief moment, he was lost and felt a flash of fear.
It was like being stranded in utter darkness with no clue as to up or down, left or right.
Then she was in all of his senses again. Her hand took his.
“I would want to kill him,” Keaton admitted, “but Amelia is not my cousin. Or my sister. And I can remain detached and think objectively. One of us must.”
“Quite,” she said distractedly, “we are halfway down this dashed Elm Walk. The end is this way. How long do you think we should stay before it would be acceptable for us to slip away?”
“If you take a fainting fit due to the sun, then almost immediately,”
“Very well. Then I will go to Silverton and stay there until Tom Higgins returns, and I can find out where they have put Amelia. It becomes clear now that the villains have put her somewhere so that she will not run away from the prospect of marrying that reprehensible human being,” Georgia said, hotly.
“You cannot simply camp out at Silverton waiting for this man. You are a Duchess.”
“Lord Emsworth does not seem to think so.”
“My staff do. I had an argument with my butler over their acceptance of your orders.”
Georgia was quiet for a moment, and Keaton realized it was the first time he had mentioned her taking the trap to Silverton.
“I understand why you did it now,” he breathed.
“Do you?”
“Of course. I did not at the time.”
“Why did you think I had taken the trap?” she asked, quietly.
Keaton was silent for a long moment. “I will not say. Suffice to say, I am not sure I will think about it any longer.”
Another silence. “I will not stand by and let poor Amelia be shackled to that man. If it creates scandal for us but frees her from him, then I will consider it a job well done.”
Keaton heard the sound of the third glass of champagne being emptied, and then Georgia swayed against him briefly.
“Oh dear. I think that fainting fit might not need to be faked. I fear I have fallen victim to the French trick on the English you mentioned earlier...”
He heard a chink of glasses.
“Here,” she mumbled with the smallest of hiccups, “so that your wife does not appear to be drinking alone.”
Keaton felt another glass put into his hand, felt it clink against Georgia’s.