Chapter 1 #2
On the contrary. The time apart had done little to quell Prudence’s interest. Georgina remembered the letter that rested like a lead weight in her pocket.
She shook her head. “Far from it, I am afraid. She sought me out the moment I returned to town.” Georgina retrieved the missive from her breeches. The sender had liberally doused it with floral perfume.
Lottie’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she snatched the letter from Georgina. “You’ve only been back a day. Did she hunt you down already, seeking wedlock?” She scanned the page, unable to conceal her mirth.
Georgina gave a cynical grunt. “Indeed, no. The lady writes that she is now married, as per my requirements, and she looks forward to engaging me in a discreet liaison at my earliest convenience.” She took the letter back and shoved it into her pocket.
“In my departure from Cornwall, I had foolishly cited my preference for married counterparts.” While this was truthful, Georgina also loathed being pursued.
She derived enjoyment from seducing ladies, and Prudence’s overbearing conduct did not appeal to her.
Lottie grimaced. “She sounds a trifle unhinged.”
“Hence my distraction.”
“You should have stayed in London with me! Avoided this loose screw completely,” she added cheekily.
“Can we not talk about it anymore?”
Lottie grinned and planted an apologetic kiss on Georgina’s lips. “What would you rather do?” she purred.
With her left hand, Georgina reached beneath Lottie’s robe, over the curved mound of her belly, and down to the patch of bright ginger hair at the intersection of her legs. Lottie lifted herself upwards to allow Georgina easier access, as a little cry erupted from her.
Georgina’s eyes held Lottie’s as she sank her middle finger inside her easily. “You have missed me.”
“I’ve missed your touch,” Lottie said with an impish smile. She began rotating her hips.
The sound of a throat being cleared made Lottie whip her head around.
Mem Lavigne stood in the doorway to the alcove, the curtain parted around them. “I am loath to interrupt you, Miss Pace.” They offered an apologetic smile.
Georgina craned her neck to look around Lottie and arched an inquisitive brow. “Indeed, Lavigne. An inauspicious moment, as I’m sure Lottie will agree.”
“You have a most … earnest visitor.”
“Could you not deny me?” Georgina suggested.
“Sadly, he has it on good authority that you are here,” Mem Lavigne advised.
Georgina gave a little groan of despair and dropped her head back on the sofa. Whoever her caller was, she wanted to consign them to hell. And Lavigne too. She reluctantly slid her finger from the heat of Lottie’s body and patted her behind with her free palm. This had better be worth it.
Lottie huffed and climbed off Georgina’s lap.
Georgina caught Lottie’s wrist as she retreated and drew her back for one deep, passionate kiss, in lieu of an apology.
Flashing a disdainful glare at her employer, Lottie flounced out of the cubicle.
Mem Lavigne came farther into the chamber and retrieved a clean handkerchief from the folds of their robe. They extended it to Georgina, who accepted it with a murmur of thanks and used it to wipe the residue of Lottie from her fingers.
While Mem Lavigne procured her a fresh glass of port, Georgina admired their energy.
Estimating their age proved difficult, although the gray curls pinned atop their head hinted that their youth belonged to a distant past. The fine lines on their countenance denoted that they had enjoyed many experiences, and their ability to talk openly about anything made them an exemplary confidante.
Their stature was moderate, and these days, they relied upon a cane to move around, but they did not let this diminish their presence.
They wore a flowing black-and-gold wrapper over their well-formed figure, and many bangles clinked together up their wrist. Mem Lavigne was a striking individual.
“Who is my earnest visitor?” Georgina accepted the glass.
Mem Lavigne ambled over to the curtain and swept it back to reveal a harassed-looking young man on the other side.
“George!” the man said, stepping into the alcove and eyeing his surroundings.
He was Georgina’s childhood friend, the Viscount, Lord Edmund Telford, and he now glared at her in an accusatory fashion, causing her to shrink back in her chair.
She sensed he meant to disturb her peace.
The throbbing in her head resumed with renewed vigor; Georgina pressed her fingertips into her temples before running her hand back through her tousled curls.
“Edmund. What are you doing here, my boy?”
Lord Edmund Telford, a young dandy, could not have been more out of place in an establishment such as this. He directed an indignant scowl at her. “Have you forgotten our engagement, George? You undertook to meet me for tea? You may recall I had something of great importance to discuss with you?”
Georgina sipped her port. “I have not forgotten, Edmund. But we are meeting tomorrow morning, I believe?”
He blinked, a furrow of confusion between his brows. “Yes. You are late.”
He was in a state. How curious.
With a befuddled smile, Georgina put her port down and groped for her fob watch. “It’s past midnight now. The tea shop will hardly be open.”
“It’s noon, George. You’ve lost twelve hours, dash it.” Edmund sighed and exchanged a look with Mem Lavigne. “Kindly fetch Miss Pace’s coat, cane, and any other of her belongings in your custody.”
Mem Lavigne nodded.
“It’s time to go, George.”
The opportunity to enjoy Lottie’s pleasurable company had officially slipped out of Georgina’s grasp. She wished they had not wasted so many minutes discussing that blasted trip to Cornwall. This had better be worthwhile.