Page 14 of The Wallflower’s Great Escape (The Wallflowers’ Revolt #1)

J ason was still bracing one arm against the wall of the mews and breathing hard when Georgiana stepped around him. He turned his head to look at her.

She looked perfectly composed, damn her, though her lips were swollen and her cheeks flushed, while he…

Damn. He was completely undone.

That kiss had been?—

Hell.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman like that.

Couldn’t remember the last time a woman had kissed him like that.

She’d tasted faintly of tea and rebellion, her fingers curling into his hair, her body soft and hot against his.

And now…

Now he had a cockstand that would have done credit to a lad half his age and twice as foolish.

He wanted her.

God help him, he wanted her right here—against this wall, in the moonlight, her skirts bunched up in his fists?—

No.

He stopped himself with a low, rough exhale.

No. No.

Absolutely not.

He would never.

She was Georgiana Chadwick.

A decent young lady. His friend’s sister.

And, more to the point, an innocent young woman already on the brink of ruin. Jason was not about to shove her the rest of the way over the edge.

But Christ, she was beautiful.

And that kiss…

He still felt it like a brand on his mouth.

It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to straighten and clear his throat.

But before he could say anything…

“I suppose I owe you the explanation I promised,” she said, her tone cool but her eyes still sparking.

That jolted him out of his unhelpful thoughts. He dragged a hand over his face, forcing his attention back where it belonged. “All right,” he said roughly, shaking himself. “Let’s have it.”

She folded her arms, glanced once around the mews—ever cautious, even now—and then met his gaze squarely.

“I have no intention of marrying Henderville,” she said plainly.

“That much,” he said dryly, “I’d already gathered.”

Her lips curved faintly before flattening again. “What you don’t know,” she continued, “is that instead of walking down the aisle, I plan to walk out the side door at St. George’s. There will be a carriage waiting for me there to take me to Bath. From there, I’ll join a friend’s family.”

Jason’s mouth actually fell open. “You…” he began, then stopped. His gaze sharpened on her. “You’re running away to Bath?”

“There’s more,” she replied serenely, “but I’m not sure I can trust you entirely. I think I’ve told you quite enough.”

“You cannot possibly be serious? You mean to run away from your own wedding?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“But you cannot?—”

“I can. And I will,” she assured him.

Jason blinked at her, utterly staggered. It was even worse—and more ludicrous—than he’d imagined. He’d assumed she was going to refuse to go to the church on the appointed day. Perhaps attempt to join a nunnery. But this…was madness. “You cannot do it,” he said firmly.

“I will do it,” she shot back.

“You cannot,” he repeated, stepping closer. “I cannot possibly allow you to do it.”

She arched a brow, cool and imperious despite the moonlight tangling in her hair. Anger tinged her features. “You have no choice but to keep it a secret,” she replied evenly. “ You promised .”

His jaw clenched. “You do realize this will ruin your family?”

Her eyes flared at that, but not with regret…with fury. “You do realize,” she ground out, “that my family didn’t care a whit about me when they auctioned me off to Henderville?”

That silenced him.

For a long, tense beat they stood there, the only sound the faint whicker of horses from the mews.

Jason swallowed hard, his hands curling at his sides.

“Georgiana,” he said finally, quietly using her Christian name, “you don’t have to do this. There are other ways?—”

“There are not,” she cut in. “You know it. And so do I.” She shook her head, the corner of her mouth twisting.

“Must you run off from the church? Why don’t you sneak out of your house in the middle of the night? You’ve plenty of practice?”

“Indeed that was my plan, only Mama has placed a footman outside my door at night.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t jest about such a thing,” she replied. Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m doing this, Jason .” Apparently, she’d decided it was time to use his Christian name too. They’d kissed after all. “No matter what you say.”

She turned then, gathering her skirts, and started back toward the house.

Halfway to the door, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at him.

Her voice was soft, but it carried. “Thank you for the kiss,” she said.

And then, with a little smile that cut him straight to the bone, “I shall remember it forever.”

And she disappeared inside, leaving him standing in the moonlight, furious, still far too affected by their kiss, and utterly helpless.