Chapter Eleven

October 10, 1812

Dodo's pulse thumped so wildly as she strode down the pavement in the blustery air, she suspected those who passed her could probably hear it.

Thump, thump, thump …

And it shouldn't. Polite young ladies should not be getting so excited to see a gentleman. Most especially entirely on her own. She had been raised to know such things, was aware of how her stay in Bath flouted Society's rules, and she felt these things, deep within herself.

If only her heart were listening.

It had been days since she had last seen George Chance. No , Dodo attempted to correct herself, it's been days since I last saw the Earl of Lindow . And that was important, wasn't it?

Remembering my place , Dodo thought as her skirts were swept up by the breeze. Her place, that was, apart from George.

But staying away from him was impossible, particularly when he sent invitations like the one she had received that morning.

A walk? L

It was intriguing. It was mysterious. It was… short.

If she knew anything about the man who had sent it, then he likely as not wished to discuss something. Or merely wished to see her.

She should not be getting her hopes up, as her mother would say. The trouble was, her hopes were already up, whirling wildly, so swiftly, she could hardly tell what she was hoping.

You cannot keep this up much longer.

The thought was so unsettling, she wobbled as she turned a corner onto the street where Lindow House could be found. Putting out a hand to the wall, the cool of the Bath stone steadied her.

Dodo swallowed. Not just the whole of this Bath madness, staying in lodgings by herself, pretending her chaperone was always around the corner whenever out and about. But stealing from George—because that was what it was, even if she could attempt to sweeten the betrayal with phrases like "inspired by" or "informed by" or even "accidentally learned."

The point was, the Earl of Lindow was spilling his secrets to her, and she was using that information to bet against him.

What was that, if not stealing?

This week will be the last time , Dodo told herself firmly as her legs strengthened and she felt able to continue along the pavement. Just a few more bets, higher now that she had a greater understanding of the system—Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham would advise her there, she was certain—then she could put this to bed.

The mere thought of "bed" so close to "George Chance" caused heat to scald her cheeks. By the time she reached the front door, she was positively pink.

Dodo frowned at her reflection in the spectacularly shined bronze knocker. After wrapping smartly on the knocker that was so inconveniently demonstrating just how rosy she was, she did not have to wait long before the door was opened by a footman who stepped aside.

The butler, Northrup, scowled. "No."

"I—" Dodo blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

It was definitely not the response she had been expecting. True, the butler seemed to have little admiration for her, which was to be expected. She was nothing but a woman, and turning up unaccompanied as she did so often, spending so long alone with the Earl of Lindow in the smoking room…

Well. What must he think?

Still. He was a servant, and she had done nothing wrong. At least, nothing wrong in her eyes. Society may not have appreciated her gallivanting about with an earl and a distinct lack of chaperone, but Dodo had always thought those rules rather tiring. Certainly not wrong—nothing wrong that George needed to worry about.

Nothing that he knew about, anyway.

"I said, no," said Northrup dryly. "His lordship is not at home."

"Not at—"

"You heard what I said," sneered the man. "Go away, miss."

The door slammed in her face.

Dodo's mouth fell open. Well! Of all the insensitive, arrogant—Northrup had no right to treat her like that! It wasn't as though he knew she was cheating his master out of a small fortune…

Did he?

Pulling herself together and reminding herself no one knew, that it was impossible for them to know, Dodo knocked again on the door and ensured this time she was ready to speak.

"I have an appointment," she said swiftly, the instant the door opened.

Northrup frowned. "If that is true, the master evidently did not think it important enough to keep. Go away."

The door slammed again.

This time, Dodo took a few faltering steps down the steps back to the street. Not important enough to keep? So George… He truly wasn't at home?

She had presumed, from the rudeness of the butler that it had been some sort of order that the servant had misunderstood. Perhaps George had wished to spend time with her, and her alone, so had asked his servants to turn away anyone else—and that had been misconstrued.

But surely, Northrup would have realized the order had only been given so George—so the Earl of Lindow—could spend time with her without risking anyone else in town discovering them?

It was difficult not to feel rejected. Dodo glanced up at the many windows that were part of Lindow House. She could see no face peering out from any of them, no indication the master was indeed home. Though what sort of evidence she expected, she wasn't sure.

Well. Perhaps he did forget.

It was an unpleasant thought. No one wished to feel a second priority to anyone, particularly when you—

Dodo caught herself just in time.

She was not going to fall in love. She just wasn't. She couldn't permit herself to do such a reckless thing, particularly not when the man in question was an earl, for goodness's sake.

"—trumped-up little thing, hanging around that poor man—"

The words were being spoken by a woman who had a friend, or perhaps sister, looped in her arm. They passed Dodo without giving her a second glance.

"—Earl of Lindow will become a laughing stock if he's not careful, the way that Loughty woman apparently carries on. Have you ever seen this supposed aunt of hers?"

"Aunt? I heard it was a family friend who was supposed to be chaperoning her."

"Or the earl's own sister-in-law. But I heard…"

Their conversation continued, but so did their footsteps, so Dodo was unable to hear the rest.

It did not matter. The merest snippets which she had heard were enough.

" … the way that Loughty woman apparently carries on … "

Heat rushed through her, pouring through her veins and making her stockings and boots uncomfortably tight. The idea that people were gossiping in the street about her—about her and George! About her lack of a chaperone. As though she were a harlot, desperately attempting to attach a gentleman to herself in such a manner…

Dodo could not deny they had spent a great deal of time together. Much of it alone. The rest of it in public, her chaperone supposedly always being just out of sight and their obvious preference for each other clearly causing comment.

She bit her lip.

For a woman who prided herself on her ability to see sense, to calculate possibilities and understand the likelihood of various events, she had not been smart.

Smart would have been pretending to be a widowed woman with another name entirely, free to roam without a proper guardian in her shadow at all times. Smart would have been holding back from becoming too intimately acquainted with a gentleman who would never… who could never…

Dodo's cheeks still burned, so she was almost certain the trio of gentlemen passing her on the pavement were staring purely for that reason. It had to be that reason. What other reason could it possibly be?

Try as she might, she could not meet their eyes with equanimity.

Was the whole of Society watching her—watching them? Was the Earl of Lindow truly presumed to be courting her? Perhaps they guessed who she was, had realized she was in town alone, and were trying to ascertain what possible hold she had managed to gain over such an eligible bachelor?

The thoughts burned through her mind, bitter and confusing. Dodo could not understand how she could have been so foolish. The concert had been a bad idea. Turning up here, as though she belonged here, was a bad idea. And staying here—staying here would be most foolish, indeed.

She had turned and started to make her way back to Milsom Street when a voice called out.

"Dodo!"

Her very ears were burning now, she was sure.

"Dodo, wait!"

Footfalls were racing after her, getting closer and closer. Whirling around and hoping to goodness the gentleman sprinting after her had somehow become invisible to everyone else around them, she glared at the Earl of Lindow.

"I thought it was you," said George with a lopsided grin. "Apologies for my lateness, I—"

"Do not," Dodo said as calmly as she could manage, "shout my name in public."

George's eyes glittered. "I wish I could make you shout my name in private."

And the world stood still.

She stared, hardly able to believe what had come from his mouth. From how George looked, top hat, impressively cut jacket, highly polished boots, one would take him for a gentleman. But a gentleman did not say such things! Those words were not just wild, they were offensive, they were scandalous, they were…

Precisely what she wanted to hear.

Dodo swallowed. Something had gone wrong here, very wrong. This was only supposed to be a gentleman who was paying for her services. Her mathematical, card-playing services , she scolded herself silently. Not like that!

Yet here she was, trading quips like that with a man who made every inch of her cry out for him, and some parts of her… Well.

In fairness, it appeared she was not the only one astonished by what he had just said.

George's cheeks reddened. "I can't believe I said that!"

Though he had blurted out the words, it was clear he regretted in part what he had done.

What size of part, Dodo could not help but wonder. A third? A fifth? How much regret did he feel compared to… desire?

She knew she should have been shocked. Young ladies should not suffer hearing such things. She could almost hear her aunt in York saying that. And yet she felt more shocked at how natural the words sounded as they met her ears.

As though George should have told her that a long time ago. As though they should know, not just speak, of what they wanted to do to each other…

Ladies do not think such things , Dodo thought determinedly. Not even ladies who flout convention and travel alone. They may have—well, desires. Hopes, for what kind of gentleman may be in their future. But they don't go around imagining a certain gentleman of their acquaintance was in their bed, utterly naked, whispering such things…

Oh, bother. I must look like a tomato.

"Why don't we take a walk?" George suggested, pointing along the pavement toward Sydney Gardens.

Dodo grasped at the suggestion with relief. "Yes—yes, a walk. Yes."

A sedentary, calm, public walk. A walk during which no such scandalous utterances could be made. A walk that would be sedate and… and dull.

Dull . As though any time with George Chance could be dull.

It was only when they stepped silently into Sydney Gardens after a short walk of about five minutes that Dodo realized she had slipped her hand into George's arm. Without thinking. And she was in public view again, with an unmarried man and no chaperone present.

Her instincts told her to remove her hand, but as she shifted ever so slightly, George took a tighter hold. He met her gaze, and a teasing, mischievous look told her he knew precisely what she had attempted to do.

And he had purposefully prevented it.

Well, it was not so very intimate, Dodo tried to reason with herself, surreptitiously glancing at the other couples promenading around the small gardens. After all, there were plenty of other people who were walking arm in arm. They couldn't be the only ones.

Though perhaps they were the only ones unmarried without a chaperone.

"You look well."

Dodo's attention snapped to her companion. "I do?"

"You do," said George lightly, as though he complimented the looks of everyone he came across. "Very well."

And what did that mean?

It means , Dodo told herself sharply, I should not be looking for additional meaning where there is none. It means keeping a calm head, and not …

Not allowing her heart to do that pitter-patter thing it always did whenever he looked at her like that. It meant not swelling with pride when he said such delightful things to her, things that made her head swim and her stomach lurch and her legs tremble and—

"Dodo? Are you well? You look a little… flushed."

Dodo forced herself back to Earth. If she wasn't careful, there was a high probability George was going to realize she was starting to have feelings for him that weren't exactly—well. Proper. More than a high probability. Almost a certainty.

And yes, he had kissed her. Twice. And yes, he had been quite dejected when she had not described him as a friend.

But he was George Chance. A rake, a scoundrel, a man whom Dodo knew had bedded and most definitely not wedded quite a few ladies.

He didn't fall in love.

He fell into bed. Then swiftly out of it.

Wasn't him helping to put her reputation at risk time after time, being seen with her without a chaperone, proof enough of that?

"I am quite well, I assure you," she said aloud, when she realized she hadn't replied. "And yourself?"

George beamed, and her stomach did that irritating little swoop it only ever did for him. "All the better for seeing you."

Dodo looked away swiftly. She needed to find some neutral ground. A topic of conversation that wouldn't lead her to think about George Chance leaning over, ignoring everyone else in Sydney Gardens, and—

"The concert was most pleasant," she said hurriedly, forcing away all thoughts of kisses and seduction. "Most agreeable. Thank you for inviting me. It was you who invited me and not your sister-in-law, correct?"

"Of course. Thank you for accompanying me," he said generously. "I believe I had the better end of the bargain, too."

Dodo frowned. "You did?"

George nodded. "I was able to enjoy the music, and enjoy you enjoying it."

His expression was steady, and there was something in his eyes…

Something in his eyes Dodo did not understand. Something that asked a question she could not answer, not even for herself.

What was going on here?

If she were asked such a thing, Dodo would reply instinctively that nothing was. But she was no fool. Eight times out of ten—perhaps more—when a young lady said that there was nothing going on, there was everything going on.

Sometimes even more than that.

"I am your friend. I deserve to know—"

"You are not my friend."

Dodo hesitated as they gently meandered around a corner, but the conversation had been playing on her mind for too long. It was time to say something. "A few weeks ago, you asked me… I mean, I told you that… that we were not friends."

Her hesitancy overwhelmed her and she halted, unsure what to say next.

It appeared, however, that George knew precisely what she was attempting to say. Or at least, his serene expression made it look as though he did. "And have you worked out what we are yet?"

Dodo shook her head, not trusting her voice.

Because she did know now. Or at least, she knew what she wanted this to be. She knew how she felt, even if the name of that particular feeling was not one she could utter in public.

She had never fallen in love before. Never felt the emotion that meant home, and safety, and danger all at once. Never kissed a man before, but even so, she knew kissing George was unlike anything else she could experience. Never been so certain that the separation she and George would have to undergo would bring her great suffering.

Separation , a mean, little voice muttered at the back of her head, would be all the swifter if he knew what you were doing …

Dodo swallowed. She should tell him the truth. But how could she? That Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham were… "in on it" made the whole endeavor sound so sordid, but there was no other way of saying it.

Ellis would know what to do. But Ellis was the reason she was in this mess in the first place. If it hadn't been for Ellis's death—

"Dodo?"

She blinked and looked into the kind, understanding, and desiring expression of George Chance.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, steering them along a path almost devoid of people.

Well, that wasn't a question she was going to answer…

"Oh, someone I know. Someone whose opinion I do not trust," Dodo said lightly.

It was perhaps not a kind description, but it was an honest one.

George's smile was perhaps too knowing. "Well, now. That puts me in a mightily difficult position."

"It does?"

"I had hoped you were thinking of me," he said lightly, as though he told ladies such things all the time. "But now that you've answered my question, I am rather hoping you were not."

Dodo chuckled as she tightened her grip on his arm.

This man. He was full of contradictions. Bluster and banter and blatant cheek when she had first encountered him, but quieter and more sensitive than she could ever have given him credit for. Here was a man who knew himself to be a fool at times, but instead of punishing himself, he embraced it.

He truly was an enigma. If she had been faced with him as a calculation on paper, she would not have been able to solve him.

"Come, let us sit." George gestured to a nearby bench, recently vacated by an elderly pair tottering off along the path.

Dodo nodded.

It was as they approached the bench that she made her decision.

Not because George had said anything. He was silent as he released her arm and without asking, without comment, removed his handkerchief and placed it on the bench before sitting beside it.

"For your gown," he said by way of explanation as Dodo looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

And that was when it happened.

Dodo sat and felt the closeness of him, the affection of his regard—for it was surely nothing more than that—and his leg brushed up against hers.

Well. His breeches brushed up against her skirts.

His care for her, given without a thought or expectation, was what made her decision.

I have to tell him.

True, it would end all things between them. George would hardly wish to spend another minute with the woman who had used him, taking the information about his precious horses and using it against him. He may even attempt to reclaim the money, though Dodo had sent most of it off to Croscombe by now.

But she owed him the truth. Besides, it would be better than having to live with this guilt.

"George," Dodo said quickly, certain if she didn't get the words out now, she never would. "I have to tell you something."

"Well if it's time for confessions, I suppose I should go first," he said quietly, not looking at her.

Dodo blinked. Confessions? Surely, George could not have anything to confess.

"You are surprised," he said quietly, turning to her.

"Well, I-I am, a little. I would not have expected—"

"Do not concern yourself. It is not a particularly sordid confession," said George with a snort.

There was something in his manner that made Dodo look closer. There was… well. If the pinched expression had appeared on anyone else's face, she would have said that he was…

Nervous.

"It's merely to tell you that you have made me a better person," he said in a rush.

A furrow puckered Dodo's eyebrows together as she attempted to make sense of this bizarre confession. "I… I don't understand."

"You make me look at the world in a completely new way," George said, and it was definitely nerves that made his voice shake. His hands clasped and unclasped together in his lap. "Not to say that I was a bad person before, naturally—"

"Oh, I don't know," said Dodo weakly.

This cannot be happening. The Earl of Lindow was telling her— her!— that her presence in his life had made him a better person.

She was stealing from him! Robbing him blind!

"No, really, you have—you are," George continued with a firmness in his voice that told Dodo he would brook no opposition. "You have a way of looking at the world, through numbers, through the way they are ordered… I don't know how to describe it. You've made me think about my place in the world. What I am doing with my life, what I should be doing with it. It's funny, my older brother Cothrom calls me a liability—"

"Which you are," Dodo said halfheartedly.

After all, he was foolish enough to spout valuable racing information to her without a second thought.

George chuckled. "Probably. But you have made me wish to be better. To learn more. To understand mathematics."

Dodo could not believe what she was hearing. "Considering an occupation in cards? Or trade?"

"Trade? Goodness no. An earl couldn't go into trade," George said dismissively, waving a hand. "No, I meant—well. The business of my estates. The responsibilities I have, as a landowner, as a master. I don't just want to play with horses anymore, though I admit I do love them."

Tension spread across Dodo's shoulders and up her neck.

Now. Now was the moment to say something. To admit she was—

"Thank you." George exhaled.

Had he ever thanked another person? She could not help but wonder. Did earls typically go around thanking people? Probably not.

And a whole cascade of emotions threatened to overwhelm Dodo.

She wanted to kiss him. Love him. Confess to him. Run from him.

All these instincts and more warred within her, her chest constricting as each one of them fought for air.

She couldn't do everything. She couldn't do anything. And every moment she sat here, in indecision, he was waiting for her response.

"George," Dodo eventually managed, her voice quavering. "I—"

She broke off. A gaggle of people was approaching them along the path.

Telling him here, in public, where anyone could overhear her—no, it simply wouldn't do. She couldn't put off the truth for long, though, she couldn't. She mustn't.

"Yes?" George said hopefully.

Dodo hesitated. "Would you do me the honor of dining with me tomorrow? At… At my rooms?"

His eyebrows rose. "At your rooms? Is that wise?"

She nodded. That would be the best place. Mrs. Bryson was ostensibly against unrelated male guests without a chaperone present, but the landlady also did not pry too deeply when suitable excuses were offered. "It will have to be. There's… There's something I need to tell you."