Chapter Nineteen

October 24, 1812

Dodo stepped out in front of Lindow House, her pulse racing.

Her parents had said they would support regardless.

"It's your decision, Dodo," her father had said fondly.

"Only you know what's best," her mother had said, with a look that told her precisely what her parents thought was best. "I'm afraid I'm still not up for a trip, so I suppose we must entrust you to Mrs. Bryson again. Unless Jenny might be spared, or your aunt."

But Dodo would do with neither of them. Her aunt would be meddlesome, if she agreed to come at all, and she still did not think her parents should do without their maid.

As to whether or not Mrs. Bryson would act as her chaperone, Dodo was certain the woman would prove most helpful when it came to visiting her "cousin," but there was little reason to involve her now. Though she did not say these things to her parents. She sensed they did not want to know.

And thankfully, she agreed with them. It was her decision. She knew best. It was far better to come back to Bath, to see what could be done, to try…

And if she failed?

Well. Then she would know, once and for all, that the attempt she had made was all she could offer. If George did not wish to continue, if he did not believe it was possible for them to find their way back to each other…

The odds were small. Dodo knew that. Had frantically attempted to calculate them on a small sheet of paper in the mail coach, wedged between the window and a snoring woman, evidently exhausted.

Less than fifty to one. Perhaps even seventy to one. Oh, God, let it be better than one hundred to one …

By the time the mail coach had arrived at the Francis Hotel, Dodo herself was exhausted. But there was no time to wait. The small carpet bag that she had brought with her—she would only be staying a day or two at most, after all—hung on her arm, weighing her down.

But she had to move. She had to find out if there was any opportunity that they…

Dodo's breathing was short as she half-walked, half-ran down the Bath streets toward Lindow House.

"Isn't that—"

"That looked like Miss Loughty. It really—"

"Why on earth is she in such a hurry?"

"She's alone on the streets again, I see."

Frantic snatches of conversation caught on the wind, some of them making it to her ears, most of them then stolen away. But Dodo did not care.

Let them look. Let them gossip. There was only one person's opinion that mattered to her anymore, and she was going to find him.

Sooner than she had expected, she found herself standing outside George's house.

Well, at least she wouldn't have to face that horrible butler.

When she rapped on the door, it was swiftly opened by an angular-faced footman in Lindow livery.

"Is George—is the earl at home?" asked Dodo hurriedly. "I wish to speak with him. Please tell him—"

"The master isn't here," the man said, jumping almost imperceptibly. "I'm afraid I don't know where—"

Dodo did not wait to hear the rest of the sentence. She was almost certain she knew where he was.

McBarland's was full of smoke, chatter, and nervous laughter from those patrons who were about to lose all the money they'd entered with. There were a few tables in the dingy darkness populated with people she couldn't make out, so Dodo pushed past the crowds to check every corner, quite aware she wasn't dressed to impress the throng tonight.

When she returned to the center, ignoring as best she could the stares from McBarland's patrons, it was with a sinking heart.

He isn't here?

Why she had presumed he would be, she didn't know. They had spent some time together here, and there were few other places she could think to look. It was possible he was at the Pump Rooms, but she thought it unlikely. He could be visiting any one of the impressive houses that populated Bath. But how would she know? The odds of her discovering him was—

The odds.

It took near an hour for Dodo to walk to the racecourse. She could have hired a hansom cab, she supposed, but the little coin she had brought with her would have to go far at this rate.

She was tired, panting, with aching feet by the time she had reached the stable yard. Men turned to stare as she entered.

Dodo smoothed her skirts and tried to hold her head high. She probably looked a state. And she had no right to be there. No reason to be there, other than to find an earl who probably didn't want to see her.

"The Earl of Lindow?" she asked, as genteelly as she could manage. "I am looking for the Earl of Lindow. Has anyone seen him?"

Men shook their heads. Some just gawped, as though the sight of a lady in this place was utterly impossible.

Dodo swallowed, disappointment rising. She hadn't wanted to let this chance slip through her fingers, but it appeared that was precisely what was happening. He could have been anywhere. He could have left Bath altogether, she realized, and she would never know.

"—doing here? No place for a woman—"

Attempting not to hear the hushed mutter, she looked about for a friendly face. There was not one to be found.

Dodo's shoulders slumped. She had run out of ideas.

Her entire life, she had considered herself an intelligent woman. Clever. She had a parent who truly understood numbers and who had shared that understanding with her, and another who read people as easily as she read equations. They both appreciated the way she looked at the world, and yet here, she had reached an impasse.

All she had to do was find a man.

Admittedly, a specific one, but she had not managed that. She was a complete failure.

Turning away from the stables and attempting to ignore the curious looks she was receiving from the many men standing about the place, Dodo started to walk away.

She would have to find somewhere to stay for the night. Evening was drawing in swiftly, and Mrs. Bryson may have already let out her room. She would have to head straight there to see if—

"Dodo?"

Dodo halted in her tracks. Then she slowly turned on the spot, hardly able to believe she could move.

It was George.

His jacket and waistcoat were nowhere to be seen. At some point, he had discarded them, and he had unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. There was straw in his chestnut hair.

Dodo attempted not to stare at his forearms. Those strong arms that had held her in such tight embraces. That had lifted her onto the dining table. That had—

She dragged her gaze up to his face and flushed to see such intensity in his eyes.

Well, she had attempted to find him. And now she had. What was she going to do next?

"I…" Dodo's voice faltered. Try as she might, it was impossible to ignore the growing crowd around them.

George jerked his head, then turned, saying nothing.

He did not need to. Dodo understood.

Following him into the small stable that was only inhabited by Honor of Guinevere and Scandal of Lancelot, she shut the door behind her with trembling fingers.

Then she turned to him.

George was standing just a few feet from her. Not that he had done that intentionally—the place was so small that unless he wanted to be pressed up against the opposite wall, he had no choice but to be that close to her.

Dodo swallowed. Pressed up against the opposite wall. She really mustn't think of—she could not permit her mind to run away with her and think about—

"I need to tell you—"

"I wanted to say—"

She halted, her mind spinning as their mingled words spilled over each other. George's cheeks were red, which made no sense. She had been the one to betray his trust. She was the ungrateful one—why, she had not even thanked him for the incredible generosity he had shown her family.

And he appeared unsure of himself?

"I've got to explain," said Dodo hurriedly, forcing herself on. "I must tell you—"

"No, I am the one who has to explain," said George just as swiftly, face set and jaw taut. "All I was trying to do was—no, I can't start there. I have to—"

But she wouldn't let him attempt to explain such an act of kindness. How could she? What sort of person would she be if he felt defensive over such a wonderful thing?

Dodo launched into her prepared explanation. "The thing was, I was so surprised. You took me completely by—"

"I should have consulted with you. I should have asked you first," said George, his voice low and urgent. "If I had not been so swift to appear impressive—"

"No, I should have seen what you had done for my family for what it was, a huge kindness," Dodo said firmly, trying to barrel along the speech she had practiced. "I should never have been so stubborn as to refuse to ask you for help in the first place."

Could he not see that she was trying to show him how much he meant to her?

She forged on. "I should never have done what I did, and I apologize—"

"No, I apologize. I was wrong to act the way I did. I should have known—"

Dodo raised her voice, hoping George would eventually capitulate and just let her get her apology out. "You did nothing wrong, and yet I—"

"‘Nothing wrong'? I was arrogant, and overbearing, and condescending," George said passionately, taking a step forward that shortened the air in Dodo's lungs. "When I should have been listening to you, I—"

"You're not listening to me right now," Dodo could not help but point out.

They paused, the tension in the air growing with every passing second.

Dodo laughed awkwardly, and George was chuckling, and she did not know precisely how she was supposed to navigate a conversation like this.

Was she angry with him? Was he angry with her?

Why did they both feel as though they needed to apologize?

"I suppose that's fair," George said, a rueful expression on his face. "Please, Miss Loughty. I won't interrupt you this time."

Though he spoke with nothing but kindness, Dodo's body went cold.

"Miss Loughty"? Was that what they were reduced to now?

She swallowed as George placed his hands behind his back, evidently attempting to demonstrate that he was going to wait until she spoke.

Which was most inconvenient because she had no idea what to say.

"I… I should never have taken the insight you gave me and… used it for tips." Dodo tried to smile, but every muscle in her face seemed to hurt whenever she tried it. "Those conversations… They were precious to me. I should have respected them."

Guilt once more rose in a wave through her, and try as she might, Dodo could not ignore it.

Why she had thought it was acceptable to do such a thing, she did not know. It was shameful. It was arrogant. And it was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

George, however, did not appear to agree with her silent thoughts. He waved aside her words with a casual gesture of his hand. "I should have guessed it was you."

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

"Well, it was my brothers who pointed it out in the first place. I didn't even notice that someone had privileged information on old Honor of Guinevere and Scandal of Lancelot," he said with a frank honestly Dodo had been unprepared for. "But I should have known it was you. It would take someone truly clever. Someone who understood numbers."

"Far better than I understand people," Dodo muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," she said hastily, cheeks burning. "It doesn't matter whether you suspected me or not. The point was that I shouldn't have done it."

"I think the point is actually that you were trying to look after your family," George said. His voice was quiet now, gentle. "You did what you thought was best. I should have offered to help you long before it was ever necessary for you to take information from me to earn money."

Dodo swallowed, her throat dry. The thought had never occurred to her. Should it have?

"Besides," he added, taking another step closer. "I could have inquired with your brother to ask if there was anything I could do. You didn't even have to know—if I were being truly selfless, then I would have… Oh, I don't know, made it appear that a genteel benefactor wished to help you. All of you. Anonymously."

She had done so well to keep the tears from falling, but now it was becoming impossible. As they stung the corners of her eyes, Dodo swallowed hard.

She had to tell him. She should have told him when he'd seen the paintings.

"Ellis died," she said blandly.

George's jaw dropped. "I beg your—what did you say?"

"He… He died," Dodo said. No matter how many times she said it aloud, it still didn't feel true. "An illness. We spent a great deal of money, but Doctor Hollister couldn't come, and our village doctor couldn't help… Then both my parents caught it. A terrible fever. It went on for weeks, and at the end of it… I hadn't realized, you see, that they'd mortgaged the house. When my father had recovered enough, he'd given the deeds to—that doesn't matter now."

"Your brother—the man in the painting… He has passed on?" George asked, clearly stunned.

Dodo nodded.

And what a sickness it had been. The doctor had said she didn't need to worry, that they would all be quite well, in time. Somehow, she and Jenny had never become ill themselves. It had been a haze of pain, of panic, as exhaustion as she'd sat up each night with the people she loved—the people who appeared to be fading, one after the other, away from this world…

"That's… That's why you have felt you had such a burden. To take care of your parents, I mean," George said slowly, as though finally seeing the light. "You were alone."

Dodo forced back the unshed tears. "I was. But I managed."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was an excellent question, and not one Dodo was sure she could answer. After being alone, responsible for her parents for so long… knowing they were sick, wondering if they would ever recover, desperate to have enough to engage the services of Doctor Hollister, whom she knew would be better able to continue to supply their medicine…

The habit of being open had slowly withered away. By the time she had met George Chance, Earl of Lindow, the last thing she'd wanted was for him to pity her. To distrust her, someone so clearly in town for a singular purpose.

Dodo took a deep breath. "I… I'm not good with people."

George frowned. "I don't understand."

Case in point , she thought darkly. Aloud, she said, "I never know what to say, or when to say it, or even how to say it. I blurt things out—"

"I think we both possess that fault," said George dryly. "If you could call it a fault. I see it more as a character trait."

"Men have that luxury, but ladies—we are supposed to be charming, and elegant, and refined," Dodo said, a hint of desperation pouring into her voice. How was she supposed to explain this? "And I don't like people—at least, I prefer numbers."

"That, you do."

"I think in truth that I am a tad hard to be around," said Dodo, knowing she was burning every bridge with George, but recognizing he deserved the truth.

After all that had occurred between them, he deserved some truth.

"But I do… I do care, you know. Deeply," she said quietly, her chest tightening at the brutal honesty she'd forced herself through. "Even if I don't show it."

Her eyes had slipped to her hands, twisting together before her. Forcing herself to look up, she saw George was… smiling.

Smiling? Despite everything that she'd said?

"You are hard to love," he said gently.

Dodo bristled despite herself. Well! She was permitted to say that about herself, but she certainly did not want him to think that!

"Fine. Right, well," she said curtly, turning and reaching for the door.

She didn't have to stay to put up with this nonsense! She had lodgings to find, and arrangements to make to return to Croscombe, and—

A hand touched her shoulder. Just lightly, but enough to halt her steps. Enough to spark hope.

Slowly, Dodo turned around. George did not remove his hand from her shoulder, caressing it through the layers of fabric. Her skin burned where his fingers moved. Just the suggestion of his touch was enough to spark desire and need.

"I didn't say that I didn't love you," George said tenderly. "But I spoke the truth. It is hard. I think love is supposed to be hard."

Dodo stared into the sparkling, blue eyes of the man she adored. "But it's so easy to love you."

"Is it?"

She glared. "Increasingly difficult."

His gentle laughter could be felt through the contact of his hand, as well as heard. "I think love is something you work at. It's not something you have to play the odds for. You have to earn it."

Dodo's pulse was pattering so painfully, she was almost surprised it was still beating. "I… Do you mean…?"

"I had been about to ask you to marry me," George said ruefully. "When it all came out. Before."

Marry him?

She had hoped, of course. A part of her had wondered, desperately wished to know whether he wanted to be a part of her life forever. She knew he ought to have offered to protect her honor in the face of what they'd done, but she never would have held him to that. She'd have rather lived an ostracized spinster all her life than force his hand.

Marriage? Marriage to George?

Oh, goodness. Marriage to the Earl of Lindow.

"I don't think I'd be a very good countess," she said weakly.

"Look, I love you, and I am willing to bet that you love me," said George, his face growing serious.

His hand slipped from her shoulder, trailing along her arm and causing gooseflesh to rise under her pelisse. He slipped his hand in hers. It was soft. And tight. And belonged there.

Dodo allowed a flicker of a smile to pass across her face. "You're willing to bet, are you? How much?"

"This much."

And he was kissing her. Just like the last time they had kissed in the stable, it was full of passion and need and desire—but it was also different.

George cupped her face and Dodo leaned into the kiss, holding nothing back. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, and she whimpered as his tongue teased delicate, sweet agony along her lips. Parting them to allow him entrance, Dodo grew in boldness, her tongue reaching out to meet his own.

How long they stood there, entangled together, desperately clinging to each other, she did not know.

All she knew was that by the time they eventually parted, breathless, she never wanted to be parted from him again.

"So… what now?" Dodo asked, her chest tight.

"Right now," George said, releasing her and turning away, "I want to give you this."

It was a small loss to have him walk away from her like that, but thankfully, he did not go too far. In fact, he only went as far as the other side of the small stable. His jacket and waistcoat were lying in a heap on a bale of straw, and George rummaged through his pockets before returning to her.

"This is for you," he said quietly.

Dodo's eyes widened. That couldn't be—

But it was. George slowly opened up the ring box to reveal a brilliantly shining gold band, a pearl atop it and diamonds encircling the pearl.

"That's… That is beautiful," she whispered.

"I had meant it to give to you that… that day, as a symbol of my affection," George said quietly. "Things got a tad out of hand, in hindsight."

Dodo could not help but laugh. "No, I don't suppose either of us could have predicted that!"

When she looked up at George, expecting him to join her in her laughter, it was to see his smooth, expressionless features very serious.

"Nothing about our lives, I'm getting the impression, is going to be predictable," he said softly, taking out the ring from its box.

Dodo's gasp caught in her throat as he reached for her left hand.

"But I know the odds will be far better for me if I have you by my side," George said, slipping the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand, just as a groom would with his bride. "And I've put this on here, Dodo, but you can take it off if you want. You don't—you never owed me anything. Helping your parents was an honor for me. And it would also be an honor if you left that ring on and promised to stay with me. Stay with me forever."

Dodo's heart thundering, there was almost not enough air in her lungs for her to reply. "You… You do know there's an outside chance that we'll kill each other?"

George grinned. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."