Page 86 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
Louisa studied Georgie. She didn’t seem nervous or uncertain, just determined. A little too grimly determined.
As bigger raindrops began to fall, Georgie gathered together her equipment, and the two women quickly walked back toward the house.
“I’ve come to the realization,” Georgie said, “that if I would have continued avoiding Society functions, I would have ended up as my mother’s permanent companion.”
“And that’s your only motivation?” Louisa asked dubiously.
“No, of course not.” Georgie grinned. “But it’s important.”
“Simon has many homes, any one of which he’d be happy to let you live in.”
“Simon doesn’t want to be in his own household—that’s one reason he’s still with Grandmama.”
Louisa frowned. “Georgie—”
“No, I can already see I haven’t explained properly. The family seat of the viscountcy is in Derbyshire. Even if Simon weren’t blind, he would never go there. It’s a lonely bachelor household, and he has always liked having people in his life, even if he won’t admit it. That’s why he’s living with Grandmama. I need my own life, my own home. So I’ll go to the assembly.”
The rain began in earnest, and they ran the last few yards through the garden and up the terrace stairs. Only when they were safely inside, looking back out the window at the rain, did Louisa glance at her pupil with a new respect.
“I’m proud of you, Georgie,” she said softly.
“Don’t be.” Georgie wasn’t smiling. “It’s still very hard for me to attend these events. I am more competent now, I know. But I don’t feel the same as everyone else.”
“You don’t know how they feel.” Louisa rested her shoulder against the window frame so that she could face her pupil. “At the beginning, it’s hard for everyone.”
“But I’m no longer at the beginning, am I?” She gave a sad shake of her head and smiled. “I don’t feel…comfortable having men look at me. Oh, I feel prettier now in my new stylish clothes, thanks to you.”
“Georgie—”
“Louisa, I know you want to help, but in this I don’t think you can. But I’ll make it all work, don’t worry.”
~oOo~
The next morning, Manvil handed Simon a folded piece of paper that had been left under the door.
“I believe it is from Miss Shelby,” Manvil said. “She sprayed perfume on it.”
“She did not,” Simon shot back, but found himself smelling the paper.
When Manvil laughed, he tossed the paper back at him.
“So read it.”
Manvil cleared his throat. “‘Lord Wade, you’ll find your next clue at the left of the terrace balustrade.’ Oh, she’s made a rhyme.”
Simon snorted. “Is that all?”
“That’s all.”
While Manvil shaved him, Simon tried to rationalize his excitement—who wouldn’t want to spend a morning with Louisa Shelby? She was trying to help him, just as she was trying to help Georgie. But for some reason, he wasn’t bothered that he was her special project. Anything that kept him alone with her seemed a good thing.
He found the tethered rope she’d indicated in her note and followed it, feeling rather foolish because he had to walk hunched over. Every twenty feet or so he had to bend even farther to follow the taut rope down to another stake in the ground. But as he paid attention to the direction the rope was taking him, he was aware that he knew where he would end up. The stables.
He gripped the railing of the wooden enclosure, listening to the neighing of the horses and the calm voices of the grooms working patiently with them. He had thought he would feel annoyed or frustrated with having to follow a rope, but he felt only a touch of melancholia for how things used to be.
“You made it,” Louisa said from above him.
He turned, perplexed, and felt the nudge of a horse’s nose against his shoulder. She was riding.
