Chapter 29
As Saturday arrived, Georgina found herself in no mood to confront the flurry and bustle of her regular London haunts.
Her father invited her to accompany him to Jackson’s Boxing Academy, but she declined and reminded him curtly he was meant to be readying himself for Yorkshire.
Despite the ruffian’s assurance she had until Sunday to settle the issue with Mrs Gardner, she remained gripped by an unshakeable fear that if she did not get Silas to safety, he would be in imminent danger.
Silas reassured her of his intent to leave quite early the next day and then set forth to meet his cronies for a robust round of boxing.
Georgina paced the length of the library several times, fixating on the sofa where Elizabeth had brought her to climax with such tenderness the night before. A yearning built in her loins. She had lost all sense when it came to Elizabeth.
Restless and preoccupied, Georgina found remaining at home unbearable, so she called for her carriage and headed to the sanctuary of Mem Lavigne’s. At least there, she might think better. Or perhaps not at all.
***
“George, the world is over!” cried Edmund, slumping into a chair opposite her.
What the devil was he doing here? He must have tracked her down here, as he rarely frequented Mem Lavigne’s. A frown creased her face.
“You have left your post, Edmund. I told you to stay with Arthur. Are you singularly incapable of following a simple direction?” She did not particularly care if she wounded his feelings.
Edmund grasped her hand imperatively. His own hand was shaking.
This made her stare up at him, and she observed the faintest sheen of sweat on his normally impeccable countenance. The rapid rise and fall of his chest also hinted at recent exertion.
“Edmund, have you been running? How extraordinary.”
“Had to get here quickly. No hackneys to be had,” he panted.
“What is it? Something has happened to Arthur?” she demanded. Her own heart raced as a hundred devastating possibilities presented themselves in her vivid imagination.
“Oh no, he’s fine. Painting portraits of all my attendants as we speak.”
The wave of nausea abated, and Georgina extracted her hand from his moist grip. The sensation of a sweaty palm always made her wince. “If you have dropped any more striplings into trouble, I am telling your mother.”
He shook his head. “No. It is Mr Lawrence Dalrymple. My love. He is going to die. You must stop it from happening.”
Georgina’s booted foot slid off the edge of the chair it was resting on. “What are you talking about?”
“Coulthurst. Your friend. They are going to duel in the morning.” Edmund fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a lace-trimmed handkerchief.
His words were nonsensical. How had Colt found himself forced into a duel? With the sweet and gentle Mr Dalrymple, no less. A sinking sensation dragged her to reality. Miss Coombes must certainly have some role in the matter.
“Coulthurst’s reputation is well-deserved. Dalrymple shall not come out alive. You have surely made some mistake?” Even saying so, Georgina lacked conviction.
“Do something, George. You must save Lawrence.”
Georgina swore. It angered her that responsibility so frequently fell upon her shoulders to provide solutions to matters that were not related to her. She smiled grimly.
“What do you expect me to do about it? Tomorrow is Sunday. Could they possibly reschedule?”
He looked baffled by this request. “Don’t be absurd. You must talk to Coulthurst. Persuade him to back out of the duel. Marry the girl?”
She wanted to slap Colt. “If it is a duel, Edmund, you should know that Colt cannot simply back out of it. It becomes a matter of honour. Did you see what happened?”
Edmund shook his head, his pale eyes filling with tears. “No, but I called upon Lawrence, and he informed me of it. Lord Ravenscroft is not happy about it, naturally, but has agreed to be his second.”
“A sensible choice, at least. I wonder who Colt has asked.”
Edmund tugged at her sleeve. “Make him marry Miss Coombes.”
Georgina winced. “What a disagreeable outcome for him. Besides, while that might keep Mr Dalrymple alive, I fear it will not make him love you, Edmund. He favours ladies. Prudence told me.” Georgina could not beat about the bush any longer with Edmund.
If Mr Dalrymple did not mean to quash Edmund’s affections, she would have to do so on his behalf.
Edmund stiffened visibly but maintained a neutral expression. “Whatever the case, Georgina, I should like him to live.”
She propped her chin on her hand. “I will try. But this timing is terrible.”
He blew his nose and jammed his handkerchief back in his pocket. “I knew I could rely on you.”
Georgina took inventory. Presently, she must prevent Arthur from being dispatched in the same fashion as her brother, continue to badger her father to depart town without alarming him, and bring down an illicit gambling den, all while preventing Colt from killing Mr Dalrymple at a duel tomorrow morning.
If she could also prevail upon Elizabeth to forgive the evils of her past, then she would be doing well indeed.
She suddenly longed for the days of lying in uninterrupted, intoxicated bliss at Mem Lavigne’s. Georgina wished for sleep.