Page 8 of The Wallflower’s Great Escape (The Wallflowers’ Revolt #1)

A nother ball, another marble pillar. Jason surveyed the room with a grim expression, a glass of untouched brandy in his hand.

Tonight, he’d tried to tell himself he was here because he owed it to Chadwick.

Because he’d promised.

Because it was his duty to keep Georgiana from making a spectacle of herself.

But the truth—that inconvenient, damning truth—was that Chadwick hadn’t even asked him to keep watching her.

Last week, when Jason had finally stood to leave that debauched little flat, Chadwick had only chuckled and waved him off.

“If you don’t want to continue to watch, let her run home,” he’d said lazily, already halfway to drunk, one of the women perched on his lap.

“She has nowhere else to go and the wedding will happen soon enough.”

Clearly, Chadwick didn’t give a toss about his sister’s reputation. So, Jason—madman that he apparently was—had taken it upon himself to show up here tonight.

Which made no sense.

None.

He had better things to do than play nursemaid to a reckless girl who thought nothing of climbing out windows and running into the night.

If her own brother didn’t care…why should he?

Only something in his gut told him that that was why he cared.

Georgiana didn’t seem to have anyone who gave a toss whether she was ruined or even physically harmed.

Evelyn had been his best friend, his closest ally, and yet she’d died on his watch. Georgiana didn’t even have anyone watching.

He knew it wasn’t his duty, wasn’t even his right…

And yet.

Here he stood.

He shifted his weight, adjusted his coat, and tried to convince himself it was nothing more than his sense of obligation…misplaced though it might be.

His gaze slid automatically across the room.

And there she was.

Georgiana.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Which was ridiculous.

Insane, even.

She wasn’t the first young woman to find herself betrothed to a man not of her choosing, and she wouldn’t be the last.

She would marry Henderville, just as countless others had married for duty instead of love, and the world would keep spinning.

He knew that.

Hell, he’d seen it happen dozens of times.

So why—why—did the thought of her in Henderville’s gnarled hands make his stomach twist with something uncomfortably like rage?

Because she was vulnerable, he told himself.

Because she reminded him of Evelyn.

That was all.

This was guilt—misplaced, unearned guilt—finding a new target.

He’d failed his sister.

And now, absurdly, his mind had decided that failing Georgiana would be just as unforgivable.

Which was wrong, completely wrong.

He took a slow sip of brandy, letting the heat slide down his throat.

And still his eyes stayed fixed on her.

Hmm. She looked as if she was up to something again. He saw it in the set of her shoulders, the spark in her eyes, the way her fingers curled tightly around that glass she was holding as though restraining herself from bolting at any moment.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of last week, of the way she’d pressed against the wall beneath him in Willoughby’s garden, her breath hitching softly when he’d leaned close, her eyes dark and wide.

He scowled into his glass.

It meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

But the truth was it had taken every ounce of his self-control not to punch her brother in the jaw before leaving that apartment last week.

The way Chadwick had laughed about her—shrugged her off, spoken of her as though she were nothing but an inconvenience to be bartered away—it had made something hot and ugly rise in Jason’s chest.

And now here he was, watching her across the ballroom, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair glinting under the chandeliers, and telling himself it didn’t matter.

He didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t. He simply wanted to keep her from making a ruin of herself. That was all.

Jason’s thoughts were interrupted when the butler’s voice rang out above the hum of conversation. “The Marquess of Henderville.”

The name cut through the air like a blade.

Jason straightened instinctively, his shoulders tensing as his gaze flicked toward Georgiana.

And right on cue—she moved.

Her smile slipped, her spine stiffened, and she murmured something to the ladies near her before turning sharply on her heel and disappearing into the crowd.

Jason swore under his breath.

God help him, he was already moving after her.