“I did not precisely ask him.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Splitting hairs, Billie.”

“Very well,” she said, crossing her arms, “but I don’t see that I had much choice, either. The music was starting and you were just standing there.”

There was nothing to be gained by pointing out that he had been about to lead her to the dance floor when Lord Arbuthnot had arrived, so he held his tongue. They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.

“You should not be here,” George finally said. He sat down to pull off his boots.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He watched her intently, fiercely. What did she mean by that?

“I was worried about you,” she said.

“I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” she countered.

He nodded his touché, then turned his attention to his cuffs, pushing back the fine Belgian lace so that his fingers could work the buttons through their loops.

“What happened tonight?” he heard her say.

He closed his eyes, well aware that she could not see his expression. It was the only reason he allowed himself a weary sigh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning will do.”

He looked over at her, unable to stop the wry smile that flitted across his lips. How very like her that statement was. But he just shook his head and said in a tired voice, “Not tonight.”

She crossed her arms.

“For the love of God, Billie, I’m exhausted.”

“I don’t care.”

That took him off guard, and for a moment he could only stare, blinking like some idiot owl.

“Where were you?” she demanded.

And because the truth was always best when possible, he told her, “At a pub.”

Her head jerked back with surprise, but her voice was cool when she said, “You smell like it.”

That earned her a grim chuckle. “I do, don’t I?”

“Why were you at a pub? What could you possibly have been doing that was more important than—” She stopped herself with a horrified gasp, clasping her hand to her mouth.

He could not answer her, so he said nothing. There was nothing in the world that was more important than she was. But there were things more important than dancing with her, no matter how much he wished it were otherwise.

His brother was missing. Maybe tonight’s absurd errand had nothing to do with Edward. Hell, George was certain it did not. How could it? Edward was lost in the wilds of Connecticut, and he was here in London, reciting nursery rhymes with a madman.

But he had been asked by his government to carry out this task, and more importantly, he had given his word that it would be done.

George would feel no compunction in refusing Lord Arbuthnot should he come with another fool’s errand. He had not the temperament to follow orders blindly. But he had agreed this time, and he had followed through.