Page 63 of The Wager of a Lady (The Beautiful Barringtons 4)

Georgina looked up at the enormous marble staircase as she passed, wondering how on earth any of the ladies, after a glass or two of champagne, would keep from tripping on their skirts as they made their way up to the luxurious boxes above. There would be a performance tonight, of Rossini’sLa gazza ladra, an opera Georgina had never heard of.

Very well. I’m not overly familiar with opera.

Lilian liked the opera. She even spoke some Italian.

The guests below would, after more champagne and some dancing, make their way up the stairs to their seats. The boxes were horribly expensive and available for purchase on an annual basis only. No more passing of boxes down thru generations. Not at The Rutherford. Another snub from Cordelia. No more coveting the best seats for only the oldest families in perpetuity.

There was already a waiting list.

The small group of musicians, hidden behind a screen, struck up a tune. The dancing was about to begin and would continue for approximately an hour.

She slowed her steps. Georgina didn’t care if she danced or not. It was much more important to avoid Mr. Woodstock.

Georgina’s mind wandered from her mother’s machinations regarding Mr. Woodstock and back to the incident on the ferry. She probably should have sat below. Most women did. But the air was colder on the water, and she preferred the chill to the stuffiness of the seats below deck. She liked to watch the shore as it approached. The wind helped dry the tears she never failed to shed at leaving Daniel. Seeing her son always brought Leo to mind. Her heart would ache for a time but for a completely different reason.

Had she been pushed? Georgina had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she’d barely been paying attention to her surroundings. Harold surely wouldn’t come to America, and there wasn’t anyone else who wished to do her harm.

Stop, Georgina.

All her energy, every waking thought, had been directed toward hiding Daniel’s existence, getting her son to America, and then returning herself. She hadn’t given much thought to her future other than acknowledging she would have to remarry to claim her child.

The only other option was to leave New York forever. William would eventually balk at keeping her secret. Mother would one day see through Ben’s carefully crafted deception. Her parents might well cut all ties with her. And as problematic as their relationship often was, Georgina loved her family.

But she would never, under any circumstances, give Daniel up. Not again.

Her grandparents’ home still stood empty. The property was isolated. She could settle there and raise Daniel alone in Garrison. Present herself as a young widow, which she was, and not use the Rutherford name.

Georgina hurried past the darkened alcove beneath the base of the stairs used for storage and, for tonight’s event, covered with a gold drape. A perfect spot for an assignation. She was surprised she didn’t hear a young lady’s giggle from behind the velvet.

I was once such a reckless young lady.

The thought made her smile as she passed, until the feel of a hand, fingers sinking into her skin, took her elbow.

Damn.

Georgina rolled her eyes, praying for the patience she’d need to put off Woodstock. He must have spotted her and given chase. The least Ben could have done was trip him or engage him in conversation to stop his pursuit. Now she would need to refuse him in a very firm but polite way. Woodstock wasn’t a bad sort. Under different circumstances, such as, if he didn’t have fingers which were the stuff of nightmares, Georgina might have considered him.

Turning, she pasted a patient smile on her face and looked down at her arm, prepared for the sight of those obscenely long fingers, but instead saw only a broad gloved hand.

“I beg your pardon.” She tilted up her chin, catching a hint of leather and sandalwood. “Please release me.” The last word lodged in her throat.

Once, when visiting Grandmother’s house, Georgina had taken it upon herself to climb a sprawling maple tree at the edge of the lawn. One of many poor decisions she’d made in her life. She’d slipped not even halfway up, her foot caught in her skirts, and fallen to the ground, knocking the wind out of her and breaking her arm. Georgina remembered looking up at the cloudless sky, unable to breathe and thinking she was dead.

It was exactly the same feeling. Except the sky before her was as dark as sapphires, with an unusual ring of indigo.

Barringtoneyes.

Eyes identical to her child’s but with no warmth.

“Hello, Georgina.”

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