Chapter Two

George

S hortly afterwards, the party began to break up and guests took their leave.

As George stood in the entrance hall waiting to say goodbye to his hosts, Henry grasped his arm, whispering in his ear, "Do not leave yet, good friend. There is much I wish to say to you. Stay on awhile and have another drink with me."

"Are you sure?" George said. "You must be tired of guests after a long evening. Do you not wish to relax with your dear wife?"

Henry smiled. "Time enough for all that. I want to help a good friend—do not look so surprised, George. And Kitty and I are going away to London very soon for a few weeks, perhaps longer, so this might be the last chance for some time that we can chat privately. Please, do stay."

George nodded. "I thank you."

"Go and sit in the parlor," Henry said. "We will have a drink together—we will talk."

George slipped through the door, closed it, and sat down by the fire. Was Henry going to ask him what he thought of his sister, Selina? Try to find out how things were going? He was fairly sure Kitty had been talking to Selina about him earlier in the evening, for he had heard his name mentioned across the crowded room and had seen the two friends conversing earnestly.

Shaking his head sorrowfully, George leaned back in the chair. There was no romantic future for him and Selina—alas. Their last awkward conversation by the fire upstairs had put paid to any remaining hope he might still have harbored. George had desperately wanted to confide in Selina then, to explain that he was so distracted by her presence that he felt unable to be his normal self. Granted, he was generally somewhat of an introvert, yet he was more than able to hold forth on many topics in the right company, generally male.

But not when I'm facing the goddess of my dreams, the woman I want to marry and cherish forever—for then I seem unable to speak rationally.

'Twas regrettable that George's attempt to speak his mind had fallen flat. He suspected that Selina had also struggled to be true to herself, prattling on about George's love of fire and cards. Perhaps she had been attempting to tease him—possibly even to flirt? Who knew. But it came across as a touch brittle—almost as if she was trying to put him in his place. Could it have been due to nerves on her part? George knew all about nerves.

Selina had more or less dismissed him, suggesting he should go and play cards. He had then explained clearly to her that he was not a gambling addict, no, for his interest in cards was something quite different, and there was a link to his interest in music. Even as he had said those words, he'd sensed her withdrawing from him. She obviously found his conversation insufferably tedious, for not long after that she had looked a little distracted before making her excuses and moving swiftly to the far side of the room.

That was the second time she had walked away from him that evening. The first was when they had been sitting on the sofa. When he had closed his eyes to listen to the music, she had taken the chance to slip away. The writing on the wall was clear: Selina thought little of him and did not want to be in his company.

George heard muffled voices from the entrance hall as the front door finally closed.

"All our guests are now gone," Kitty said. "What a wonderful evening it has been, dearest—and now we will make our own sweet music, will we not?"

Henry shushed Kitty at this point, and there was silence for a few seconds followed by a giggle from Kitty.

"Not quite everyone has gone," Henry said in a lower, but still audible, voice. "One guest remains. George is in the parlor and I need to talk to him."

"I understand," Kitty said. "Selina told me... and he was very quiet—nervous? She can be hasty to judge. Do your best... be not too long, my dearest."

"I will fetch some Madeira from the tantalus in the dining room and have a chat with George. I promise I will not be too long, darling Kitty."

George shifted in his seat, feeling embarrassed that he had such good hearing—and a little guilty that Henry was not going to go upstairs with Kitty straight away. 'Twas thoughtful and kind of Henry to insist on a private meeting, but George resolved to try to make the conversation short, and then he would be away, galloping across the city on Trigger, homeward bound.

A few minutes later, Henry stepped into the room holding two glasses of Madeira—and came straight to the point.

"George, you must tell me what has happened with my sister. Kitty and I had such high hopes for the pair of you."

George dropped his head. "Your sister has indicated that she finds me the most insufferable bore in Bath, if not in the whole southwest of England."

Henry frowned. "To be honest, I thought as much, from her demeanor. But why? The two of you seemed so close before."

"I sincerely believe there was a strong physical connection between us."

There still is a strong physical attraction—on my side at least. There always will be.

"However," George continued, "we have never really had the chance to sit next to each other for any length of time until this evening. Now she knows me better, she likes me less."

"Yes, well, we sat you next to each other on purpose," Henry said. "The seating plan was meticulously organized."

"Thank you for that—you are both very kind. Sadly, the opportunity was ill used by me, for I felt so overcome sitting next to the object of my desire that I was unable to speak for most of the meal—I merely sat there like a stupid stuffed turkey. And I am not sure your sister approved of my clothes, either."

"Your clothes?"

"She stared at my breeches, which as you can see are a little dirty. There was a sudden rainstorm on the way here, and Trigger's hooves threw up quantities of mud."

"Selina cares not for appearances," Henry said. "If she noticed the mud on your breeches, she will have admired you for it because she would have thought you had been on a great adventure. She does not give two figs for the values of the ton ; her main aim in life is to break free from the confines of polite society. I well remember the arguments she had with our mama about how she should dress—for Selina is reluctant to wear the usual trappings of femininity such as gloves, bonnets, and so on."

"Shoes?"

"Ah, yes," Henry said. "There were many arguments about shoes. When she was a small girl, as soon as she was out on the Crescent Lawn, she would toss her footwear aside and pull her stockings off. She loved the feel of the grass tickling her toes. The governess was always complaining."

"It's a wonderful sensation, to feel the ground through your feet," George said.

"There you are then. You have something in common."

George grinned. "My parents were always quite happy when I wanted to go barefoot in the garden."

"Interesting, especially as your father is a doctor. Perhaps there is some benefit in being close to nature that the rest of us don't know about."

"I am sure there is. Anyway, I prefer being outside. How I hate being cooped up in a house."

"Another thing that Selina used to fight for was to have the sun on her face," Henry said. "She would take off her bonnet and hold her face up to the sky, no matter how many times Mama scolded her for encouraging freckles."

George took a sip of his drink. "'Tis unfair that women have so few freedoms. No one has ever told me to cover the skin of my face in case I become tanned or have freckles."

"Yes, I hadn't thought of that. S'pose Selina does feel hemmed in somewhat. 'Tis a shame. And because Selina has a particularly bold and adventurous spirit, our parents have always tried to keep the firm hand of discipline upon her."

"I cannot believe Miss Templeton has ever have done something she needed to be disciplined about."

"You'd be surprised," Henry said. "Have I not told you about the incident on the parapet above Number 1 Royal Crescent?"

"No, you have not. What happened?"

"Oh, nothing very terrible. Only that Selina thought it would be a good idea when we were children to persuade me to climb out of the window of a servant's bedroom with her and stand on the roof next to the low parapet. Selina is very fond of birds and said we would be able to see as far as eagles. All I would need to do was follow her out of the window and along the ledge. As luck would have it, my father was on the Crescent Fields at the time and saw us make what he called ‘the incredibly stupid decision to risk our lives.'"

George's eyebrows were almost up in his hair by now. He had been fond of tree climbing in his youth but had never dreamt of this sort of caper.

"Of course," Henry said, "as an adult, I can look back and see how dangerous and foolish the whole enterprise was, but at the time I felt compelled to do what Selina said. She can be very persuasive!"

"She is quite a character. I do admire that about her."

I admire everything about her—and always will.

"So why was it so hard to talk to her at dinner, if you admire her so much?"

"'Tis because I admire her that it was so difficult—I did not want to put a foot wrong. Sadly, this made me nervous, and I struggled to think of things that she might be interested in. Then eventually I remembered that night when we were all in the Octagon."

"Oh yes," Henry said. "The night you exposed Lord Steyne as a card shark. Who could forget? George, you were positively on fire that evening. I've never heard you so eloquent. I actually thought you should train to be a barrister because of your performance. Everyone was terribly impressed!"

"Well, I have no difficulty spouting forth when I know what I'm talking about, and also, although Miss Templeton was there, I did not realize it at the time, so I did not feel constrained or distracted by my feelings for her."

Henry narrowed his eyes. "You have been fond of my sister for a long time then, have you? For you, it is not merely a fleeting attraction of the last couple of months."

George was silent. How could he explain to Henry that he had spent years worshipping Selina from afar, ardently wishing he was the sort of man who found it possible to have an easy relationship with women. George had watched his friends flirting with ladies at balls, in the Pump Room, at musical gatherings, why, simply everywhere in Bath—whereas he himself found it difficult to speak lightly about trivial subjects, which seemed to be what was required. The usual conversational gambits of the ton had always been a closed book to him.

"Tell me," Henry said softly. "You can find the words."

"I, I cannot," George said. "It runs too deep."

"Do you love my sister?"

George nodded.

"And you have for years?"

Again, the nod.

Henry sighed. "Now, I wonder, what we can do about this?"

"There's nothing to be done. I've already ruined my chance this evening at dinner. After making the mistake of saying nothing, I then made the further mistake of saying far too much, droning on about cards and gambling." George clutched his head. "I may have come across as being rather boastful."

"And why not?" Henry said. "You have always been the best of our set at cards. Your skill and energy are boundless, and your brain must be the size of a planet to keep all those numbers and plans logically assembled. At Cambridge, you were universally admired for the brilliance of your mind. Not like the rest of us boneheads, the ones that went into the army."

"You are too kind. I'm sure I have no intelligence that is not common to all."

"And are you still sure you want to become a doctor?"

George's eyes lit up. "I am really enjoying being my father's apprentice and hope one day to be as fine a doctor as he is. He says I am all but ready to set up on my own, although I know I still have much to learn. Yesterday I accompanied him on his visits and saw firsthand how he alleviates the suffering of the poor."

"Your father treats both rich and poor?"

"He does. He treats anyone in need and often says how fortunate he is to have independent wealth so that he can afford to minister to the less well-off. Oh, Henry, if you could see how some have to live—the suffering..."

Henry's mouth formed a thin line. "I saw suffering aplenty when I was at war and on my long, long journey home."

"Of course," George said. "None of us will forget what you had to go through. But in this city of Bath, there are those in real need only a few steps away from all the elegance and prosperity. 'Tis a scandal, and there is much to be done. So many diseases could be prevented or relieved by basic medical care."

"Well, I am glad you find your work fulfilling. You must be very busy."

"Medicine does not take all my energies. I also spend much time at my father's stables in Newton St Loe. My papa breeds a good many horses there, and there is always much to do."

"Quite a thriving business, I have heard," Henry said.

"'Tis always a hive of activity. I enjoy helping out there—for all horses deserve proper medical attention."

"I suppose they do. Certainly, the horses I knew at Waterloo were some of the bravest creatures I have ever encountered, and it was horrible to see their suffering. All that was available to treat them was a quick mercy killing."

"Did you have to do that?" George said.

Henry nodded. "'Twas not easy—but necessary."

"Indeed."

There was a silence, at the end of which Henry let out a long breath. "You will make a fine doctor, George, for you are a very good listener. You will make an excellent husband too. Therefore we must formulate a plan, for your affection for my sister runs deep. I am sure something can be done to help the situation between you and Selina."

"Perhaps. But I have taken up too much of your time." George tipped the remaining Madeira down his throat and stood up. "Many thanks, my friend, for the most wonderful evening. I will see you soon."

"Yes—and we will talk again."

"You must then tell me how your own affairs are going," George said. "You are still considering going into the law?"

"I am, though 'tis early days at the moment. A connection of my father has recommended many learned tomes for me to read which will take a deal of time, and of course I must not neglect Kitty, then there is our new home and our forthcoming jaunt to London... but yes, I think law will be the right step for me. I will not go back to the army—not after Waterloo."

"A wise decision, for life is too long to spend it doing something you do not enjoy."

"You are certainly right about that," Henry said. "By the way, when I return from London, I will be bringing Carter back with me."

"Carter? Your manservant, Carter? What the devil has he been doing in London?"

"He has been there for weeks. He left immediately after my wedding; he was called away suddenly on private business."

"You are a generous employer, to allow him so much time off."

Henry smiled. "Carter has another job as well as being my manservant."

"Another job?"

"A government job. I cannot tell you more."

"How mysterious!" George said.

"That's not the only mystery about him. I will tell you more on my return from London. Now, shall I walk you to the stable to collect Trigger? I could do with some air."

Outside, the night was crisp and clear. The two men turned left to walk to the end of the Crescent, stopping briefly outside Number 1.

"In all the time I lived here with my family," Henry said, "I never dreamt I would end up living right next door at Number 2 with Kitty."

"'Tis a very convenient arrangement," George said. "By Jove! What's that on the roof?"

"Where?"

"Oh, er, nothing; a shadow, perchance?"

"Or too much wine!"

"Doubtless," George replied. "Come! Let us hasten round to the stable. You can say hello to Trigger, for I know how fond of him you are."

I thought I saw someone on the roof—in fact I am sure I did. And if it is who I think it is, I will not betray her to her brother. Or anyone.

I would never betray Selina.

*

Selina

Selina took a step back from the parapet. It would not do to be found out. George had looked up, but she was confident he had not seen her, for why would he expect her to be out here?

When she was a little girl and had trespassed on the roof in the company of her brothers and Kitty, Selina had received such a reprimand from her parents that she did not attempt the adventure again for many years. Then, gradually, it became a habit of hers to creep out onto the roof, mostly at night, for during the day someone always wanted to know where she was. These days she chose to exit via the servant's room at the far end of the corridor, the tiniest room that was scarcely ever occupied unless the Templetons had a lot of guests staying. She was adept at creeping along the top corridor in the dead of night and highly skilled at avoiding the squeaky floorboards. Thus far, she was satisfied she had avoided detection from what the snobbiest members of the ton called the lower orders .

'Twas a risky procedure, for sure. There was the ever-present chance that she would be noticed by someone either inside or outside the house, but there had also been one or two dangerous moments when she had leaned a little too far over and nearly slipped. However, the adventure had been worth it for the exhilaration and freedom.

Sometimes, on a moonlit summer night, Selina took a book up to the roof and relaxed over the pages of a gothic thriller or a tender romance, the balmy breeze wafting over her. At other times, she had clung to the stones behind her as rain lashed down, looking over the Crescent Lawn to the Crescent Fields and beyond during an electrical storm. Then, she had felt truly alive, imagining herself at the prow of a mighty ship crashing through the waves on the high seas.

The one thing Selina had not dared to do—yet—was climb over the ridge of stone until she reached Henry and Kitty's house, Number 2 Royal Crescent. That would be trespassing. And involve risking her neck. Although she could see that for an athletic and courageous person, if circumstances required, it would be possible to travel round the whole top of the Crescent. Perhaps one day...

Selina climbed back through the small sash window, closing it firmly behind her. 'Twas intriguing that George had stayed so long with Henry at Number 2. Henry must have wanted to have a private chat with him. Selina's cheeks flamed. Had they been discussing her? How dare they! She was heartily fed up with people poking their noses into her business. It had happened all her life. When she was but a girl, people had said,

"I wonder who you're going to marry?"

"What sort of gentleman do you think you want to settle down with?"

"You are bound to make an advantageous match with a face like yours—and your father's fortune."

As soon as Selina grew old enough to set foot in a ballroom, she had felt the male gaze on her, assessing her face, her figure, and her background. And heard with her own ears discussions of what certain young ladies were "worth" in terms of financial wealth. Really, sometimes Bath was no better than a cattle market. What were the chances that George had been asking Henry exactly how much her dowry was this very evening?

Ah no, that was a shameful thought. There was no need for George to choose his bride from an affluent family. His father, Doctor Fitzgerald, was very wealthy. Perhaps not as rich as Lord Templeton, Selina's father, but then few in Bath were. George had grown up with every advantage. The Fitzgerald home in Devonshire Buildings was a fine house, although it was outside the city, south of the river. Doctor Fitzgerald also owned farms and much land to the west, including a fine set of stables in Newton St. Loe.

There was a small country estate in Devon as well, but apparently the Fitzgeralds preferred to reside near Bath for the best part of the year, as most of Doctor Fitzgerald's medical work was in the city and surrounding areas. He was renowned in Bath for the excellence of his treatment and the passion with which he carried out his medical vocation. Doctor Fitzgerald was also a good friend and colleague of Doctor Jenkins, who attended the Templetons—in fact, Selina had found out about the admirable reputation of George's father from Doctor Jenkins. Well, not directly from him, but the information had come from Doctor Jenkins's lips while he was talking to Lord and Lady Templeton one day. Selina was lucky enough to be nearby—with her ear to the keyhole—and had heard everything.

Creeping along the corridor to her chamber, Selina bit her lip. Up until this evening, George's circumstances had been an ever-present thought in her mind, and she had frequently imagined herself calling upon George's parents in their house in Devonshire Buildings, visiting their farms and the stables at Newton St. Loe and squeezing in a visit to their country estate in Devon. Heavens! She had even speculated about which church they should marry in. Now these images made a rapid retreat—for Selina had discovered what George really was. A pompous, boastful bore.

Selina opened the door to her bedroom, thought better of it, and flew down the stairs to the entrance hall to collect her cloak. From thence she went down to the basement and slipped out of the back of the house. She would go round to the stable, for that was where George and Henry were bound; hopefully, she would be able to hear their conversation.

Running along Upper Church Street, Selina passed the backs of the Crescent houses. What a stark contrast the view was to the graceful elegance and symmetry of the street scene at the front by the Crescent Lawn. Here at the rear of the buildings, all was mismatched and individual, each house boasting a different design, with strange bulbous extensions scattered about the terrace. Was this not a little like George? For he had a flawless exterior; his beautiful visage boasted regular, pleasing features and handsome eyes. Yet his personality was a higgledy-piggledy mess—full of contradictions and unexpected behaviors.

Selina moved softly along Crescent Lane and found the stable used by the Templeton family. Success! She could hear Henry and George's low voices.

"What a fine creature you are, Trigger," Henry said.

"He's very fond of you," George said.

"As I am of him, for did he not help me rescue my Kitty from the clutches of Lord Steyne last December?"

The two voices dropped to a murmur, then suddenly the stable door opened and Selina moved quickly, pressing herself into a dark and shadowy recess some distance away. She would not risk being discovered—for there were no words she could have found to explain why she was standing outside the stable eavesdropping. Even she herself did not know why she was doing this.

"I am sorry about my sister," Henry said to George.

Sorry? Henry is "sorry" about me? How dare he speak of me in this way!

"She does not always know what is best for her," Henry continued, "and she can be hasty in her judgement."

"'Tis my fault entirely," George said, "for I made a mess of things. I think before tonight, she thought I was something I was not. She has no idea that I am..."

You are what? Speak up, man!

"I will speak to Kitty," Henry said. "She may know what can be done. And if it is not to be, then remember that Kitty knows many young ladies and can make introductions aplenty for you—there will be someone out there for you, George."

"Pray do not bother yourself over me. I am a lost cause, and 'tis my fate to be alone. I do not mind. In fact, I've always thought matrimony was rather overrated."

Henry punched George lightly on his shoulder. "You do not mean this, my good friend."

"I do! I assure you."

"And I assure you," Henry said, "that when you meet the right woman, you will long to be joined to her in matrimony with every fiber of your being."

Selina sighed loudly from her hiding place.

"What was that?" Henry said.

"I heard nothing," George said.

"It was like a breath."

"Ah, that will be one of the other horses in the stable. Or may have been Trigger here." George stroked the horse's nose. "Come on, my old fellow. Time I got you back to the comfort of your own stable. You need to rest."

"I've always thought it very odd," Henry said, "that horses can sleep standing up."

"Yes. They have a special joint in their back legs that allows them to do this. How useful this would be for humans."

"Indeed," Henry said. "And will Trigger really rest better in his own stable? Is a horse truly aware which stable he is in?"

"Of course," George said. "Trigger is a sentient being. He is totally aware of his surroundings. He likes to be in another stable and meet other horses, yet is happiest to return to his own home. I even believe he can sense whether I am sleeping in my bedchamber in Devonshire Buildings just across the way from his stable."

"'Tis almost as if he were a member of your family."

"He definitely is," George said, "and is very much loved by the whole household."

Merciful heavens! George has a soft heart, to be sure.

George ruffled Trigger's mane, then gave him a quick kiss on the side of his head.

Selina stifled the groan that was threatening to escape from her lips. She might not have thought much of George's behavior at dinner, but her whole body was desperate for his touch. If only George were running his hands through Selina's hair, if only he were kissing her cheek, her mouth, what a fine thing that would be...

"I wish you godspeed," Henry said as George mounted Trigger.

"Thank you. I will be home in no time at all," George said. "'Tis only a couple of miles."

"A steep climb, though."

"Indeed," George said, "but Trigger is up to it, are you not, my friend?" He stroked Trigger gently on the side of his neck.

How George loved that horse! He did not seem to have much trouble talking to animals—nor Henry. Was he simply not prepared to make the effort when he was talking to Selina? She must be very low in his estimation, beneath all the men—and animals—in the world.

Selina allowed a few minutes for George and Henry to go ahead around Crescent Lane to Upper Church Street and thence to the Royal Crescent, before she followed. She intended to enter Number 1 as she had left—by slipping in via the servants' entrance. Perhaps she should wait a little longer in case Henry was lingering in the street and saw her? Although 'twas not likely he would do this, for he would be keen to join Kitty. He must be racing up the main stairs of Number 2 to their chamber right now.

When Selina reached the servants' entrance, she was amazed to find she could still see George on the other side of the road. He had not galloped away as she had anticipated but had dismounted and was leading Trigger very slowly down the sloping path at the side of the Crescent Lawn.

Dare she? Was she brave enough to follow him? One heard of all sorts of people being abroad at this time of the night—cutthroats, beggars, and other undesirables. Selina looked around carefully. No one! And no faces appearing at the windows of the houses in Brock Street to make reports to her parents in the morning. Everyone must be fast asleep.

Selina pulled the hood of her cloak right over her face and moved softly across the cobbles, following George and Trigger down the path and left onto the Gravel Walk. She kept to the shadows, leaving a good space between her and George as she followed him along the portion of Gravel Walk that ran along the back of the gardens of Brock Street. The route then curved slightly as the gardens of Brock Street merged into those of The Circus.

Why was Selina doing this? Had she lost her sense of reason? Should she go back? Selina looked behind herself and felt a little nervous. The sensation was an unusual one for her.

For I do not usually go chasing after men in the middle of the night, risking my reputation...

'Twas not too late to simply turn and go back—indeed, that would be the sensible course of action, the one she should take.

Just as Selina had decided that her venture was over and she would return to the comfort of her bedchamber, George and Trigger stopped dead. And George's gorgeous voice murmured softly, "Now then, Trigger, there, there, boy. You are right; we should make for home. But first, there is something..."

No! What was George doing? He was turning around with Trigger and beginning to walk towards her. Selina pressed herself against the high wall at the side of the path and the rough stones pressed uncomfortably into her back. There was nowhere to hide! And George would soon discover her.

Selina pulled her hood right over her face. She would be fine, for he did not know she was following him. Of what consequence would it be if he saw a woman standing by a wall on the Gravel Walk in the middle of the night? Many women probably stood in such places in the night—waiting for men? Selina was a little hazy about what actually went on in the streets of Bath after dark, but she had been warned often enough by her mama never to be out alone, particularly at night.

"There are ladies of the night," her mother had said frequently. "There is an alternative society that flourishes in the streets, a society you do not belong to."

George was nearly upon her. Would he think she was a lady of the night? Selina clenched her teeth. She was not so green, but she did not know what ladies of the night did. For her mother had explained that to her many years ago—when Selina had asked at the age of thirteen.

"The ladies of the night," Lady Templeton had said, "perform paid services for men, and this is something that you never need to think about again. And now, Selina, this conversation is most definitely at an end. It will not be repeated."

Selina was worried. If George thought she was a lady of the night, might he ask her to perform a service? For a fee? She trembled. This was not a situation in which she wished to find herself. She was way out of her depth. And she knew she would be in trouble with her parents if they ever found out. The sound of Trigger's hooves stopped and she heard the horse's gentle whinny beside her. What would happen now?

George cleared his throat. "I will escort you home, Miss Templeton."

*

George

The only reason I am not galloping halfway up Beechen Cliff by now," George said, "is because all the time I have been fully conscious of your presence. I cannot leave you in the street, but instead must do the gentlemanly thing and make sure you get home safely to Number 1."

Selina threw back the hood of her cloak. "You knew it was me? Did you not think I was a lady of the night?"

"Of course I knew it was you, Miss Templeton, and of course I did not think you were a—lady of the night. I was aware of you outside the stable and then following us back to Number 1."

What an amazing woman Selina is! Bold and courageous, yet so innocent and in need of my protection. Heaven knows what would have happened to her all alone in the street if I had not lingered tonight.

"How did you know?" Selina asked. "I thought I had been careful enough to escape detection. And why did you not say anything at the time?"

"I did not want to betray you to your brother," George said. "That would have been most unfair."

"Did you realize I was listening to you and Henry talking?"

"I did not think we were close enough for you to hear us clearly,"

"I heard snippets," Selina said.

There was a pause while George tried to recollect all he had said to Henry about Selina—hopefully not too much that was embarrassing.

"I certainly did not hear everything," Selina said, "although I did hear you say you did not want to be married."

That was a shame, for I didn't really mean it.

"Why did you turn around and walk back to me now?" Selina asked.

"I decided the charade had gone on long enough. 'Twas time I walked you home. I would never leave you here to make your own way back—you must know that. All sorts of dangers lurk for a young woman such as yourself. You should be more careful, Miss Templeton."

"You sound like Mama! She's always warning me to be more cautious—without being specific about what the danger is that I must avoid."

"The danger," George said, "comes from men, sadly. And your mama is right to urge you to look after yourself." Then he smiled. "Why were you following me, by the way? Most sensible young women are sound asleep at this time of night."

"Why was I following you?" Selina paused. "Why should I answer you, especially since you are determined to tease me by talking about sensible young women—for you must know by now that I am nothing of the sort."

"'Tis true, a fondness for wandering on a roof at night can scarcely be considered prudent—nor can an aversion to wearing shoes, nor..."

"Enough! You do not need to list my misdemeanors. I recollect them all quite clearly."

"You have not yet answered my question—why do you take such risks?"

"Why should I not?" Selina stamped her foot. "You can have no idea what 'tis like to be a woman in today's world. I have so little freedom and am constantly warned of dangers lurking everywhere if I set foot outside the house by myself, especially, heaven forbid, after dark. And yet young men of my age have complete liberty to do as they choose."

George nodded. "I see what you mean. And agree 'tis most unfair. But sometimes, we have to do our best to fit in with the world as it is—to protect ourselves."

"Is that what you do?"

George paused for a moment and then a slow smile spread across his face. "Why, I do believe that it is, Miss Templeton. How very perceptive you are."

And utterly, completely adorable.

"I will tell you one thing," George said. "I was quite well aware you were observing us from the parapet above Number 1."

"You were? Are none of my secrets safe?"

Selina's eyes shone with merriment in the gentle moonlight, and George took a step closer. How he longed to take her into his arms, to embrace her tenderly, allow his finger to trace the soft curve of her cheek, then lower his lips onto hers for their first delicate kiss, before allowing passion to sweep over them...

"George! I mean, Mr. Fitzgerald! Are you feeling quite yourself? You look a little strange."

"Feel free to call me George," he said. "And, and..."

Would she ask him to call her Selina? If she did, would it mean anything?

"Oh, yes, I am more than happy to call you George," Selina said. "And obviously you may call me Selina. I have always thought of you as George, not Mr. Fitzgerald."

"Have you? That's . . . that's . . ."

"Oh yes. I think of all of Henry's friends by their Christian names because that is so often how he refers to them. Also, I despise any sort of formality. 'Tis so unnecessary, do you not think?"

"Absolutely!"

"I am glad we are agreed on that, George. And now, I think you should tell me one of your secrets, since you know so many of mine. Go on! Tell me one of your most well-guarded secrets."

Shall I tell her how much I ardently love and admire her? How I worship her? How I long to be one with her? That would be putting formality aside in no uncertain terms.

"George! You are looking strange again. I was only teasing you."

George said nothing—and felt a little despondent.

I am trying to think of a suitable reply; sadly, it is beyond me. How I long to be able to match your quick wit, Selina—for then you might admire me. And love me?

Trigger blew softly through his nostrils, waiting patiently for his master.

"Yes, yes," George said. "I know; we must take Selina back now."

I have no trouble talking to animals.

As they walked along the chips of gravel, Selina stumbled slightly, and George took her arm to steady her. What exquisite torture! Was this the closest he would ever get to holding his love? He could smell her sweet perfume and feel her vital life force as they walked along.

Once they reached the end of the Gravel Walk, Selina pulled her arm free.

"Thank you, George. I do not need your support any longer and will be fine from here."

"I will walk you right up to the door. I insist."

If anything were to happen to Selina because of my neglect, I could never bear it.

"All right, if you think it necessary."

"I do," George said.

"I do!" How I long to say these words to my sweet Selina in an entirely different context.

Number 1 Royal Crescent was now in view, and they walked side by side until they reached the servants' entrance.

"Thank goodness," Selina said as she tried the door. "Still unlocked!"

"What would you have done if you had found the door bolted?" George asked.

"I would probably have gone round to the front of Number 2 and thrown gravel at Henry and Kitty's bedroom until they took pity on me and came down to let me in," Selina said. "Then I would either have stayed the night in their house, or perhaps I could have been very brave and used the rooftop route from their house to reach Number 1. Don't look so horrified, George! I am sure it would be quite possible—although I have not yet attempted it."

Then, with quick thanks and a wave of her hand, Selina disappeared into the servants' quarters.

George mounted his horse, and Trigger trotted along the Gravel Walk, down past the Theatre Royal and on towards the river. It was surprising how many people were wandering the streets at this hour, many the worse for wear. A group of rowdy drinkers greeted George as he passed, cordially inviting him to have a drink with them.

"Maybe another time," he called out.

Once he had crossed the River Avon, the pace slowed a little, as Holloway was a steep climb for Trigger.

"There, there. Are you thirsty, old boy?"

Pausing for a moment by the water trough, George dismounted and encouraged Trigger to drink. Suddenly, a movement in a nearby bush caught his attention.

"Who's there?" George said.

"Damn your eyes!" a voice answered.

George took no notice, mounted Trigger again and continued up the road.

"Devil take you, Fitzgerald!" he heard faintly in the distance. "You will pay for what you did. A curse upon your head..."

Fitzgerald? The unseen ruffian had used his name. He knew him! And the voice—had George heard it before? The timbre seemed familiar.

George wiped his brow, feeling suddenly weary. The man could be someone George had encountered when out on a visit with his father—possibly a patient with grudge? This seemed a credible possibility, for 'twas fair to say that medicine could not cure all, and although the majority of patients were grateful for their efforts, there were always those who blamed their doctors when things went wrong.

Now George felt sorry for the man who had shouted at him from the bush and wished he knew who he was. He tapped the side of his head—something was niggling him. Perchance the man was nothing to do with George's medical work. But who else would it have been? George had no enemies—as far as he knew.

Unlike Henry—for last year Captain Henry Templeton had been threatened by a mortal enemy, none other than the infamous Lord Steyne.

Henry always said how grateful he was to George for carrying out the final part of the defeat of Lord Steyne—his exposure as a card shark in the Octagon shortly before last Christmas.

Wait! 'Twas possible Lord Steyne still bore George a deal of ill will because of what had happened in the Octagon—and the voice from the bushes by the water trough had sounded familiar. Could the hidden person have been Lord Steyne?

No, the idea was both fanciful and preposterous, for after George had exposed him as a card shark, Lord Steyne had fled the city. There were rumors—and hopes—that he'd even left the country and traveled to the Continent, so deep was his disgrace in the eyes of the ton . It was inconceivable that Lord Steyne would be cowering the foothills of Beechen Cliff in the middle of the night.

Wasn't it?

Of course it was! George relaxed his shoulders. A foolish imagining—the consequence of too much Madeira with Henry.

George was on the top of Beechen Cliff now, and 'twas only a short journey onwards to Devonshire Buildings and his home. Selina would be tucked up in bed by now. Would she be fast asleep and dreaming of romance and love? Or would she be lying awake, thinking about the events of the evening and plotting another adventure?

Why had Selina been on the parapet? And why had she decided to follow Henry and George to the stable? A sudden whim—or could she possibly be harboring feelings for George? She had seemed attracted to him at Christmas time.

Who was he kidding?

There was no evidence that Selina had any feelings for George. She was lively and friendly, of course, but was she not like that with everyone? What George had hoped was a blossoming romance had proved this evening to be nothing of the sort. However, talking to Henry had been a comfort. Perhaps he would be able to help George further? Although Henry had said how busy he was with all the law books he had to read—and he would be away to London fairly soon for an extended visit.

Trigger snorted, and George stroked his mane.

"You are right, my old friend. I must change the situation, not rely on Henry. If I want my devotion to Selina to be returned with love, 'tis up to me to achieve this. I must make a plan—not give up at the first hurdle."

For I am determined to win Selina's heart—and then her hand in marriage. Though I have not the faintest idea how to go about it.