Page 45 of Baron in Check
She hung her bishop, but Hermy was one move away from a mate. The next would be a check.
“So if you lose, d-a-r-l-i-n-g, we don’t need to send invitations?” Greg asked.
“Ahem, I said I’d make the list.” Sofia looked up from her spot on the low soft armchair. It enveloped her like pudding as if unwilling to spit her back out.
“It is rather kind of you, Lady von List, because it would be difficult to ensure all the people we ought to include can be notified in time,” Hermy avoided Greg’s stare lest she burst out in laughter.
Hermy hung her knight.
Sofia took it.
One move to check mate.
Sofia hung her rook.
If Hermy mated Sofia, she’d blow her cover as the naive aristocrat, but if she didn’t, Sofia would most likely invite all the Ton and everyone who shunned Hermy would be at her wedding to see the fallen girl marry the outlier in parliament.
In the end, it was not a physical checkmate that declared their victory but the undeniable shift in the atmosphere, a subtle acknowledgment of their resilience and courage. Hermy’s line of attack was on the chess board, but London’s aristocracy as a whole.
“Check mate!” Sofia rose and then bowed as if she’d executed a flawless pirouette.
CHAPTER 21
“Why didn’t you mate her sooner?” Greg asked once they were alone in the carriage.
“Because she’s like her husband. She was a ballerina and needs to show off,” Hermy said. “He just lost against you in the privacy of his home. To really punish them, you have to do it with aplomb.”
Greg leaned back on the bench across from Hermy. “You’re brilliant, do you know that?”
Hermy sighed. “I’m afraid I sacrificed our wedding for the cause.”
“How?”
“Greg, don’t you remember what they said about me? About us?” She leaned forward, and he smelled her fresh, soapy rose scent mixed with peach and something else sweet.
His eyes dropped to her lips. So sweet. “I remember everything.” He didn’t mean the gossip, that was just speculation. What he remembered was the act that fueled the speculation, and he knew the truth: the scandal wasn’t that he’d compromised Hermy, but how terribly unimaginative the Ton had been in crafting their story. Compromising Hermy had been so much more spectacular.
Greg knew if he went home with Hermy now, he’d either have to lock himself in his chambers, or her. Neither was a safe nor appealing option.
“Let’s go fencing.”
“At nine o’clock at night?” Hermy asked.
“It’s not nine yet.” He reached for his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Ten more minutes. And it’s hardly night.”
It only took another minute or two to reach Green Park and Greg pulled up at the Pearlers’.
“I wasn’t invited. It’s too late. I cannot impose,” Hermy protested in vain when Greg wrapped his hands around her narrow waist and lifted her off the carriage.
“You must impose because you need a chaperone tonight.” His mouth came so close to hers that the air crackled with anticipation of the contact. But Greg knew, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to merely kiss her.
And Hermy remained silent, followed him up the stairs, and once the butler opened the door, they stepped into the house.
CHAPTER 22
The Pearlers had already finished dinner and dessert, but the butler brought Greg and Hermy a tray of the most delightful treats. Despite the late hour, Eve Pearler had welcomed them as only a mother would her children, ordering tea and embracing Hermy with such a warm hug that Hermy wanted to crack and weep on her lap.
This was what Greg was fighting for; the safe haven at the Pearlers was also his safe haven. Although Hermy had been welcomed at his house with all the pomp and circumstance of an aristocratic household, tonight, Greg had brought her home.
