“Of course we are. It’s her morals we’re concerned about,” Fig added quickly, “and the reputation of Rannoch House. Strange men going in and out at all hours will be noticed in Belgrave Square.”
The choice of words made me start giggling again. Fig looked up the stairs and focused on me. I had just realized that my robe was not quite tied and I had nothing on underneath it. I tried to pull it around me to save what was left of my dignity.
“Georgiana, are you drunk?” Fig demanded.
“Just a little,” I confessed and clamped my lips together so that I didn’t giggle again.
“The champagne went to her head, I’m afraid,” Darcy said, “which is why I brought her home and I thought it wise to put her to bed in case she fell and hurt herself, since she has no maid to help her. So if you want to know the sordid details of what happened, I put her to bed, she promptly fell asleep and I was just leaving.”
“Oh,” Fig said, the wind taken out of her sails. “I wish I could believe you, Mr. O’Mara.”
“Believe what you like,” Darcy said. He looked up at me. “So I bid you good night, Georgie,” he said and blew me a kiss up the stairs. “See you soon. Take care and don’t let her boss you around. Remember you have royal blood. She doesn’t.”
He gave me a wink, patted Binky on the shoulder and let himself out.
“Well, really,” Fig said, breaking a long silence.
“It’s bally cold in here,” Binky said. “I don’t suppose there’s a fire ready for us in our bedroom, is there?”
“No, there isn’t.” I had rallied enough from my drunken stupor to be coherent, and more than a little angry. “You said you were planning to come in the next week or so, not the next day or so. And why is it that you are traveling without servants?”
“We’re just on a flying visit this time, because Binky has secured an appointment with a Harley Street specialist for his ankle,” Fig said, “and I also wish to consult with a London doctor, so we thought we could save the expense of bringing servants, since Binky told me what a whiz you had turned out to be around the house. Obviously he was exaggerating as usual.”
I stood up, still a little uncertainly. My bare feet were freezing on the stairs. “I don’t think that my father would expect me to act as a chambermaid in the family home,” I said. “I’m going back to bed.”
With that I turned and made my way back up the stairs. It would have been a grand exit had I not tripped over my dressing gown cord and gone sprawling across the first landing, revealing, I rather suspect, a hint of bare bottom to the world.
“Whoops,” I said. I righted myself and hauled myself up the second flight. Then I climbed into bed and curled into a tight little ball. I had no hot water bottles to place around me but I wasn’t going downstairs again for anything. And it did give me a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that Fig was about to climb into an equally icy bed.
I opened my eyes to cold gray light, then promptly closed them again. Darcy was right. I did have a hangover. My head was throbbing like billy-o. I wondered what time it was. Half past ten, according to the little alarm clock on my chest of drawers. Then the full details of the previous night came back to me. Oh, Lord, that meant that Binky and Fig were in the house and by now they would have discovered that I had nothing to eat in the kitchen. I scrambled into a jumper and skirt and made my way downstairs, almost as shakily as the night before.
I was about to push open the baize door that led down to the kitchen and servants’ quarters when I heard voices coming from my right. Binky and Fig were apparently in the morning room.
“It’s all right for you,” I heard Fig’s voice with teeth chattering just a little. “You can go to your club where you’ll be comfortable enough, but what about me? I can’t stay here.”
“It’s only for two more nights, old thing,” Binky said. “And it is important that you see that doctor, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so, but being as cold as this isn’t doing me any good. We’ll just have to