No Gentleman for Georgina

By

Jess Michaels

The Notorious Flynns Book 4

Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2015

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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For Grace Callaway, Delilah Marvelle, Heather Boyd, Vicki Lewis Thompson and all the other authors who looked me in the eye and said, “Leap!” Having you to keep me company as I built my wings has been fantastic.

And to Michael, master craftsman and repairer of wings. And holder of my heart while I tumble.

Paul Abbot had no idea why the Duke and Duchess of Hartholm insisted on inviting him to their balls and soirees. He had no title, little fortune and was nothing more than the manager at their brother-in-law’s notorious club.

But perhaps that was the answer. His employer’s new family, the Flynns, were welcoming to all comers, and for some reason he had been swept up in their wake. But he knew his place even if they pretended not to do the same.

And so he stood as far to the back of the ballroom as he could, watching the partygoers swirl by in their foppery and finery. He sipped his one and only drink for the evening and all but forced himself not to look at the pocket watch tucked in his jacket.

“Counting the moments until you can flee is not good manners,” he murmured to himself as he stifled a yawn. There was nothing here to tempt him.

Nothing but…

The moment his mind began that errant thought, his gaze slid across the room and landed squarely on the one and only temptation London Society had ever held for him.

Miss Georgina Hickson stood on the other side of the room. And she was beautiful, just as she was always beautiful. Her dark blonde hair was fixed so that it framed her oval face perfectly, accentuating high cheekbones and full, rosy lips. He had wondered, more than once, how those lips would taste. Her bright blue eyes were expressive as she chatted with her companions.

Companions who were all men.

His heart sank. Georgina never seemed to be short of partners at the events they mutually attended. Paul held his breath every day when he looked at the notices in the Times, waiting to see an announcement of her impending nuptials to the Earl of Very Important Things or the Duke of So Far Above Paul Abbot.

As if she sensed his stare on her, she suddenly looked across the room. Her gaze locked on him and her smile broadened. His heart stuttered and he forced himself to smile back, to lift a hand in a polite wave.

She returned it, then spoke to her companions once more before she began to come across the room toward him.

Paul held his breath as he watched her approach. He had less than thirty seconds to give himself the same talk he always did when Georgina came near. The talk that reminded him that when they had been introduced at a party to celebrate the shocking marriage of his employer, Marcus Rivers, and Georgina’s good friend Annabelle Flynn two years ago, that Georgina had only been polite to talk to him. That it was her continued politeness which drove her to carry on their odd friendship all these years later.

She was a nice girl and she had to recognize just how out of place he was at these gatherings. Beyond that, her interest in him was less than nothing.

“Mr. Abbot,” she said, that beautifully melodious voice washing over him like a soothing rain after a too-hot day. “I did not know you were in attendance or I would have sought out your company sooner.”

He swallowed hard and found his voice. “You seemed quite enthralled—I would not have pulled you away from your companions.”

She glanced over her shoulder at her circle of men. “Them? Not enthralled, I assure you, nor they with me. We were discussing the weather, of all things.” She rolled her eyes. “I cannot tell you how utterly uninterested I am in the Almanac’s predictions for this year’s rainfall.”

He laughed. “That does sound rather dull.”

“So in a way, you saved me,” she said with another of those dazzling smiles. “I am most obliged.”

“At your service,” he said with a stiff bow that brought a twinge of pain to his shoulder. Pain he had been ignoring for well over a decade and intended to continue ignoring now.

“How are you, then?” she asked. “I feel like I have not seen you in an age. I always look forward to your company when I visit Annabelle and Marcus’s home.”

Paul shifted. He wished he could say the same to her, but from his lips those words would be a desperate confession versus her polite overstatement.

“With Rivers spending more time at home, we
do
often conduct our business there.” He smiled.

“It must be rather thrilling, running such a successful establishment.”

His smile slowly faded. Being an innocent, Georgina had no idea the truth about the club he managed. The Donville Masquerade, Rivers’ den of sex and gambling, would horrify her if she ever did discover the reality of it.

“Sometimes I think I should sneak a visit there, perhaps convince Annabelle to allow it,” she said with a light laugh.

Paul stiffened at the idea of Georgina there. Of watching her watch the debauched acts. Despite himself, his cock began to swell at the thought and he fought for the control he always held over himself before he said, “I doubt your father would approve of such a plan, Miss Hickson.”

She shrugged, but the light in her eyes dimmed. “My father approves of so little I do anymore, Mr. Abbot. It makes me wonder if I should not try to please myself for a while since he will not be pleased by
any
action I do or do not take.”

Paul took a step toward her even though it was improper to do so. He couldn’t help it. Although Georgina rarely made comments like that one to him, he had watched her struggle with her family’s increasing frustration at her lack of a marriage over the years. He wanted to comfort her somehow. Honestly, he wanted to know how the men of the
ton
had been so stupid as to not snatch her up already.

But before he could say anything, her face went pale and her eyes suddenly focused on a spot behind him.

“Georgina,” came the sharp voice of none other than her father. Paul turned and gave a formal nod to the man, which was, as always, ignored. “Come, our presence is required elsewhere.”

Georgina’s lips pursed together, but she did not argue. She slowly moved away to her father’s side. She turned back before they walked away. “Good evening, Mr. Abbot. I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak further.”

“Good night, Miss Hickson,” he said as she began to disappear into the milling crowd once more.

The fact that she was lost to him within a moment of leaving his side was practically a metaphor, and he downed the rest of his drink in a swig.

“Don’t be a fool,” he muttered to himself as he set the empty glass aside to be collected by a servant at some point. “Whatever you wish would happen
never
will.”

But even as he forced himself to move, find his hosts and excuse himself for the evening to get back to work, he realized that what he told himself would never change how he felt. It was impossible to change the desires that boiled inside of him. Desires that would remain forever unfulfilled.

Georgina winced as her father guided her into one of the Duke of Hartholm’s private rooms and shut the door with a loud click. As he turned, she braced herself for the barrage of scolding bound to come, and he did not disappoint.

“What are you thinking?” he snapped.

She took a long breath. “About what, specifically?”

His eyebrows lifted. “No sass, now. You know what I’m talking about.”

She turned her face, because, of course, she did know exactly what had upset her father this time. It was a subject that always caused consternation between them. Still, she shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m not certain what sin I have committed, Papa. You will have to clarify.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said with a shake of his head. “We have talked about this many times. You had no reason to be standing in the middle of a crowded room with Paul Abbot.”

Georgina walked away from him, wringing her hands. Her father had been haranguing her about Paul since the very first night she met him two years ago. He was not rich, and more importantly, he was not titled, so in her father’s mind, there was no need for further discussion.

What he didn’t know, what he didn’t understand, was that in a room full of people Georgina had been fighting to impress for what would soon be four long Seasons, Paul never made her feel unworthy, or unwanted, or unpretty. When she talked to him, the time flew by. He was comfortable, he was wildly attractive, he was…he was…
Paul
. After she was with him, all she could think about were his soulful brown eyes, all she could wonder about was if his crisp, short brown hair was soft to the touch.

But she couldn’t say that, for if her father knew the tender feelings the man inspired in her, he would likely forbid her not just from seeing him again, but from seeing Annabelle Rivers, Serafina Flynn, Gemma Flynn and Gemma’s sister Mary, too. The Flynn wives and daughters had become the best friends she’d ever had.

“Mr. Abbot and I are friends, Papa,” she said softly, hoping the gentling of her tone would lead to something similar in his.

Instead her father threw up his hands in something akin to disgust. “The man’s ‘friendship’ can do
nothing
for you. And perhaps if you were not so blasted distracted by this…this…bourgeois club manager, you would have earned your title last Season.”

Georgina flinched. Her father hadn’t always been so harsh with her. But the longer she remained on the marriage mart, the more intrusive and angry he became. She felt his disappointment and sometimes his disdain grow with each passing unsuccessful ball and soiree.

“I’m sorry I’ve let you down, Papa,” she said softly.

He ignored her comment, or perhaps he had gotten so worked up, he didn’t even hear it. “I will
not
see you destroy this new Season in the same way. You will not have many more chances, Georgina, and I tell you, you won’t be wasting your time on unsuitable activities or men.”

Georgina bit the inside of her mouth until she could taste blood. Oh, she talked a very brave game with Paul about doing what pleased her. And she had equally daring thoughts when it came to what she wanted. But she was too cowardly to actually follow through on any of that.

She pursed her lips and took a deep, cleansing breath before she said, “I promise you, Papa, I am as driven to succeed this year as you are.”

And she was. To have been out for almost four years with no results wasn’t only humiliating—it was exhausting. She had to be so perfect, so right, to follow so many rules. And the longer it went on, the more likely it became that she would be relegated to spinsterhood. A thought that gave her a shudder.

“I hope so,” he said as he moved for the door. There he looked back at her. “I know I sound severe, but trust that I have your best interests at heart. I’ll allow you a moment to gather yourself before you return to the ballroom.”

He left her, and she sagged. In truth, she
did
think her father wanted the best for her. He was severe about it—he was sometimes very cold about it—but in his mind, he was trying to ensure her future.