Page 41 of The Wallflower’s Great Escape (The Wallflowers’ Revolt #1)
L ady Beatrix Winslow sat in the Pembrokes’ drawing room like a queen in exile—perfectly poised, one gloved hand resting delicately on the arm of her chair, her expression composed yet crackling with barely restrained amusement.
Across from her, Georgie and Jason exchanged a glance before Bea finally spoke, her voice low and measured. “Of course,” she began dryly, “we never had this conversation. And I was never here.”
Georgie’s brows lifted slightly, but Bea only arched one of her own, her sea-green eyes glinting with quiet mischief.
“Because,” she continued, her tone light but her words carrying unmistakable weight, “if my father ever discovers how his secrets get out, I will lose my greatest strength.”
Jason, leaning casually against the mantel with his arms folded, inclined his head solemnly. “Understood,” he murmured.
Georgie nodded just as gravely. “Of course,” she agreed.
Bea allowed herself a faint, knowing smile before smoothing her skirts and crossing one elegant ankle over the other.
“You’re learning,” she said approvingly. Then she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Now. You said you only needed one?”
Georgie straightened in her chair, her hands folded in her lap but her eyes sharp. “That’s right,” she said quietly. “One good strike. Something solid enough to keep him out of our lives for good.”
Bea tilted her head, considering them both for a long moment before she sat back, her fingers toying idly with the hem of her glove. “Well then,” she said at last, her voice dropping even lower. “Listen to this.”
She glanced toward the door once to ensure it was closed, then beckoned them both closer.
Jason pushed away from the mantel, crossing the room in two strides, and Georgie leaned forward, her pulse quickening as she caught a faint whiff of paper and charcoal and lemon from Bea’s gloves as the three of them huddled close.
Bea lowered her lashes, her mouth curving into something sly and wicked.
“There’s a particular house on Half Moon Street,” she murmured, her words barely more than a breath.
“Very discreet. Very…specialized clientele. Henderville has been a patron there for years. He prefers his companions younger than is strictly respectable. Much younger.”
Georgie’s stomach twisted, but she kept her face carefully blank.
Bea continued. “There are at least three young women who’ve left his employ with generous hush money, but not all of them kept quiet. And at least one is back in London now…with a rather damning diary she’s been trying to sell.”
Jason let out a low whistle under his breath, his jaw tightening as he straightened slightly. “That’ll do,” he said grimly.
Georgie’s hand curled into a fist in her skirts, but she forced a calm smile to her lips as she met Bea’s gaze. “That,” she murmured, “will do very nicely indeed.”
Bea leaned back, smoothing her skirts as though she’d just recommended a new milliner. “Good,” she said lightly. “And this conversation never happened.”
Georgie allowed herself a faint, wicked smile as she exchanged a glance with Jason, then nodded at Bea. “What conversation?”
And as they bent their heads together again, whispering the next steps of their plan, the air between them crackled with quiet determination, the beginnings of a perfect little scandal, waiting to be deployed.