Georgiana had no sooner taken a seat at the table when knocking on the front door echoed around the house.

“I shall answer it, my dear,” Ruth replied with a battle-hardened glint in her eye.

It wasn’t Will, though. It was the neighbour of her good friend, Mrs Merriweather. Although the voices were too low to hear what was being said, the concern on Ruth’s face when she returned to the kitchen had Georgiana rising out of her seat in alarm.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Mrs Merriweather has taken ill. I need to go and sit with her for a while,” Ruth replied tremulously.

“Mrs Merriweather was the lady you had tea with, isn’t she?”

Ruth nodded. “I am sorry, Georgiana. Will you be alright here by yourself? I have no idea how long I will be. She seemed alright earlier, but she has taken a turn for the worse and is in a bad way, apparently.”

“Of course you must go. Is there anything I can do?” Georgiana asked.

She hurried over to the hearth and put a pot of water on to boil although had no idea why. It seemed that every time something unusual or distressing happened the first thing anybody ever did was put a pot of water on to boil. Whether it was in anticipation of having to make tea, or just to have something to do she had no idea, but she quickly filled a pot and placed it over the flames. When she turned around, she found herself alone. Ruth had gone up to her room to gather a few belongings.

“Mrs Merriweather lives in the next village so it is highly unlikely I will be back tonight. I shall stay at her house until she is well enough to be left alone,” Ruth declared when she appeared in the doorway.

“If there is anything I can do,” Georgiana murmured.

“Thank you, dear, but I am sure everything will be alright. Just go to Mr Parker if there is anything amiss. I shall be back as soon as I can, or shall send word if I am likely to be gone for more than a couple of days.” At the door, she paused and turned to study her niece. “Are you sure you are going to be alright?”

Georgiana waved her away with a confident smile. “I am fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Her smile dimmed once the door was closed, and she was all alone. The silence that settled about her was strangely disquieting. It wasn’t that she was perturbed at being left alone. Her aunt had gone out on many occasions since Georgiana had taken up residence, and it had never bothered her before. However, this time she had no idea when Ruth would return. It left her on edge and restless as though she wasn’t sure what she should do all the time she had to herself. She certainly didn’t have anybody else to talk to. What was she supposed to do now?

“This was what I wanted–to be left alone,” she muttered with a frown. Strangely, it wasn’t all that appealing now she was actually by herself. Still, not one to be defeated, Georgiana went in search of something to occupy her time.

“I could sew,” she mused thoughtfully as she eyed the sewing basket in the sitting room, but then wrinkled her nose up and turned away. “Maybe bake something?”

She had little interest in even looking in the cupboards, and began to pace around the house in search of something to do, but nothing inspired her.

“I have no idea what I want,” she whispered aloud. “I am so used to being told what to do by Cecily that I cannot decide for myself.”

When a complete circuit of the house didn't offer any answers, Georgiana returned to the kitchen and sat down to study her list. The only item on it that appealed to her right now was to experience being drunk. With Ruth at her friend’s house, possibly overnight, the chances of being caught, or worrying her aunt unduly, were as low as they were likely to get.

“What harm can there be?” Georgiana whispered.

She began to search for some alcohol. An hour later, she blew a thin veil of dust off a bottle of brandy that had been tucked away at the back of a cupboard, and studied it closely. Once the cork was removed she took a cautious sniff. The pungent aroma made her eyes water but it was sweet and strangely appealing so she began to search for a goblet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” she murmured aloud once she had poured the cup half-full.

She took a cautionary sip, frowned, and waited.

“Really quite pleasant,” she mused as she studied the amber liquid swirling around in the receptacle.

She then took a second, much longer sip. The sharp sting of the fragrant liquid as it burned its way down her throat made her cough and gave the liquid a completely different taste. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she liked it or not. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant, just a little unusual. Within minutes a warm rush of heat flooded her cheeks, and was rather nice. Delighted, Georgiana took another, much larger sip. That too burned its way down her throat and settled warmly in the pit of her stomach but, in its wake left joy, the strength of which made her giggle.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, blinking rapidly as the fireplace began to blur around the edges. “What on earth?”

She studied the half-empty goblet in her hand in surprise. She hadn’t realised she had drunk that much, but now that she had tasted it she was compelled to drink more. The residual warmth that lingered deep within was wonderful and made her problems melt away.

“So, this is what all the men like to drink besides ale, is it? They have been keeping secrets,” she giggled as she took another longer sip. “They can keep the ale. I don’t like that, but this-” she picked the bottle up and studied it with a squint, “-this, I shall keep for myself.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a hiccup and found this incredibly funny, which made her thirsty and in need of another long slug of the sweet sin. As she settled into the plush confines of the chair, her contentment with the world around her grew even more, until even Will faded into insignificance.

“Cheers, Will,” she called to the empty room and raised her glass like she had done at many a toast in the past. Even saying his name didn’t make her chest ache like it usually did now, but she had no idea how the brandy might be responsible for that.

“It is good stuff this,” she chortled. “Whatever it has in it really works,” she mused aloud and frowned as she tried to contemplate that but struggled to get her thoughts into the right order.

“My dress!” She cried suddenly.

She put the goblet onto the table with a dull thud and stumbled, staggered, and tripped, across the room and finally made her way up the stairs to her bed chamber. Once there, she dropped onto the floor and, bottom in the air, withdrew the large box out from under her bed. Carefully lifting the crimson dress out of its tissue, she held it against her for a moment, luxuriating in the silken glide of the fabric against her as she studied herself in the mirror. Then, she turned to Ruth’s startling yet wonderful gift.

Emboldened by the alcohol, she quickly divested herself of her clothing and tugged the corset on. Thoughtfully, the modiste had placed the laces at the front of the corset, allowing Georgiana to tie herself in, which she did, after a few drinks of brandy and a stumble or two. Eventually, having pushed and contorted herself into the confining clothing, she stood back to study the mirror.

Her cheeks flamed at the image that stared back at her. It was shocking, but also truly startling in an empowering kind of way. She truly believed she had the strength to conquer anything, and probably would have done–if the world didn’t shake so much.

Delighted at what she saw she hurriedly tugged her matching dress over her head and sighed breathlessly as she material glided its silken delight over her bare flesh. It was wondrously wicked to be so boldly displayed in blood-red and black, but also incredibly satisfying. For once she was doing something for herself, and it fuelled her inner quest to achieve something in her life that flew in the face of everything everyone had ever told her she should do and be.

“I love it,” she cried as she whirled around the room only to gasp and cling onto the door frame when the world swirled alarmingly. “Oh, Lord. I need another d-drink-”

She hiccupped, which propelled her out of the room and into the hallway. Once there, she struggled toward the stairs on wobbly legs.

“I wonder if this is what being drunk is like? But I can’t be drunk, I am not singing like my brother’s used to,” she muttered as she half-ran down the stairs and collapsed into a heap at the bottom when the world rushed up to meet her.

She pushed awkwardly onto her feet, shoved loose strands of hair out of her face so she could see properly, and staggered into the study whereupon she took a deep, fortifying drink from her goblet. Once empty, she refilled it and smiled naughtily as she fell back into the chaise.

“Grapes!” She cried with a giggle, as though she had just made an incredible discovery.

Once back on her feet, which was far more of a struggle than she had expected, she staggered to the back of the house where she thought she would find the conservatory.

“There has to be some here somewhere,” she muttered as she pushed her way through the foliage in search of a grapevine. “Grapey, grapey, grapey, grapey, come out wherever you are,” she called as she stumbled from one end of the conservatory to the other. “Now where are you?” she muttered with a frown as she made her way back to the door.

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered when the room began to swirl again. Aware that she wasn’t going to be able to walk for long on such wobbly legs she hurried into the study to collect the bottle. Unfortunately, carrying the goblet at the same time proved difficult because the liquid kept sploshing over the edge. It doused her fingers in the sticky liquid–so she drank it to keep it safe before she plonked the now empty receptacle onto the table.

“Now, I will find those grapes,” she declared, taking the bottle with her for company.

As she left the hallway she was only vaguely aware of someone knocking on the front door, but her legs wouldn’t cover the distance to go back to answer it. Besides, she didn’t want to talk to anybody right now–only why she couldn’t quite remember.

“You can wait,” she announced to nobody in particular as she bumped her way along one wall and another to the conservatory. Once there, she realised that the grapes were hanging over her head.

“Stupid me,” she muttered as she leaned against the wall. “I need to have some of you,” she murmured with a frown.

Picking a bunch proved difficult when the world wouldn’t stop moving, but she managed eventually. Thankfully, Ruth had foreseen the need to use a chaise in the conservatory, and it was close enough for Georgiana to plonk herself onto with her precious bounty. She eased her legs up with a contented sigh, plumped up numerous pillows, lay back, and began to eat grapes while she took occasional swigs directly out of the bottle because she had been unable to bring a more dignified goblet with her.

“Georgiana? Is that you?”

Georgiana groaned and stared at the foliage. Had it just spoken to her? She lifted the bottle in her hand, squinted at it, and took another sip just to make sure it hadn’t. Satisfied that it posed no threat whatsoever, she popped another grape into her mouth and savoured the sweetness as she chewed.

“Georgiana?” Will stared in astonishment at the sight of Georgiana, seemingly in her cups, dressed like any wanton harlot would be in a crimson and black dress; the décolletage of which displayed rather too much for any polite company. Nipped in at the waist, it left little to the imagination, and did little to ease his need for her–or maybe it was the fact that her skirts were rucked up to her knees displaying her bare and extremely curvy legs that were more of a temptation, he couldn’t quite decide. Either way, he struggled to remember why he was there.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked in stunned surprise.

He couldn’t decide whether to lambast her for being so scandalous, stare at her in shock (which he was already doing) or laugh at the somewhat befuddled way she was staring at the plant as though it had just spoken to her. He eyed the bottle she kept swigging out of and suspected that the half that had been drunk was the reason why she was struggling to sit upright and had yet to figure out that he was there.

Georgiana frowned and struggled to concentrate through the haze that had taken over every corner of her head. It was difficult to even remember where she was but she was certain the plant hadn’t talked to her. When the sound of footfall beside her broke the silence, she screamed–loudly, and tried to get off the chaise only to find her legs wouldn’t hold her up at all now.

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered not for the first time.

“Give me that,” Will ordered briskly, and promptly snatched the bottle out of her hand.

She looked so damned delightful that he was struggling with the urge to kiss her the way his body demanded he must.

“Will?”

“Just what are you wearing?” He looked down, into the deep ‘v’ of her cleavage and immediately wished he hadn’t when raw need slammed into him and stole his breath as well as his common sense. “Good God,” he groaned, praying for the fortitude to get through this without doing something foolish like kiss her again.

“Eh?” Georgiana stood and frowned at him, then realised what he had said. She peered down at herself and squinted against the bright colour before she beamed a smile at him, and swiftly snatched the bottle back off him. “It’s new. Do you like it?”

Will coughed and shook his head in disbelief. He loved it–on a more personal level. As long as she never stepped outside of the front door, and nobody else ventured into the house to witness her like it, then he had no problem with it–or wouldn’t, if he was her lover and was able to take it off her every chance he got.

“Good Lord, Georgiana,” he muttered, desperate to keep his mind off the delicious display of her curves wrapped in silk and lace. “What’s happening? Why are you doing this?”

When she didn’t appear to have heard him he stepped forward and tried to relieve her of the bottle again, only for her to tug it away from him and issue him with a scowl that was nothing short of dangerous.

“Get your own,” she growled with uncharacteristic menace.

“I don’t want any,” he replied nonchalantly. “Give me the bottle, Georgiana. You have had quite enough for one day.”

“How do you know?” she demanded defiantly. “You are not taking my bottle. It’s mine.”

“Give.” He waggled his fingers but she refused to relent.

She clutched it protectively against her chest and scowled at him. “Go away. Why are you here?”

“Where is Ruth?” Will asked, hoping to take her mind off the bottle.

“Gone. Away. Somewhere,” she mumbled.

“Is she due back?”

Georgiana shrugged and scratched the back of her head.

“Yes. She has gone to see Mrs Merr-menner,” she muttered. “She’s sick.”

“She won’t be the only one in the morning,” Will replied knowingly. When Georgiana didn’t appear to have any idea what he was talking about he nodded to the bottle. “Was that full when you opened it?”

Georgiana lifted the bottle and squinted at the contents.

“I found it,” she murmured.

Determined not to allow him to see just how much the room whirled, Georgiana placed a casual hand on the chaise beside her only to realise belatedly that it was too far away to be of any use.

Will cursed and lurched toward her before she crashed to the floor.

“I am alright,” Georgiana mumbled, more confused by his proximity than the alcohol.

The scent of him reminded her faintly of honey and something else. Whatever it was smelled heavenly, and elicited a yearning she knew deep down inside-even drunk-that she should ignore. It was difficult, though, when he was holding her so tightly against him. Like a new born foal, she struggled to find her legs, which wobbled and shook as she tried desperately to regain her balance.

“Just how much have you drunk?” Will muttered in exasperated disbelief when he tried to release her only for her to start to fall again. “You are drunk.”

His astonishment was clear in his tone but he doubted she heard it. She was oblivious to the world. It gave him the time to study her up close–something he had never done before.

It was a revelation.

What struck him, first of all, was that he wasn’t holding a young girl. He was holding a woman; a well-rounded, extremely sensual woman. His body responded to her every movement and became almost painful the longer he touched her. With temptation so close, Will had to call upon every ounce of self-control he possessed not to throw caution to the wind and take what she so brazenly offered. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her while she was drunk–she would hate him for it. Moreover, he would hate himself for being that weak.

Determined to keep his mind off the needs of his flesh, he scowled down at her. He then found himself staring into the hypnotic depths of her eyes which seem to lure him in. In spite of her drunkenness there was clarity in the gaze she levelled on him, but he also saw a hint of shadow, wariness even, and that worried him.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered. It wasn’t lost on him that if he hoped to get the truth out of her there was no greater time to try to prise honesty from her than when alcohol had loosened her lips.

“What?” Georgiana hiccupped.

“You are going wild,” he sighed.

“I am not the person you believe I am,” she replied indignantly. “I am not a child anymore.”

Will sighed impatiently. “We have been through all of that. I am asking you why you are drunk. The other week you were skinny dipping. When I got to the village, I caught you stealing apples. Not just stealing them but sitting up a tree while you ate them. Now, you are not only dressed like a harlot but you are drunk as well.”

“I am not dressed like a harlot,” she gasped in outrage. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”

“I didn’t say it looked bad on you but you are a lady, Georgiana,” Will replied.

Georgiana snorted inelegantly. “I am sorry. You must be confusing me with your fiancé. She is a lady. I am merely a commoner.”

With that, she pushed roughly out of his arms and put the solid bulk of the chaise between them. It helped that there was something other than him to lean against but she still struggled to focus on anything. “Your fiancé is one of your kind. I am not.”

“Wait!” Will held a hand up. His temper stirred. “What do you mean, ‘one of my kind’?”

“You are aristocracy. I am a commoner,” she declared firmly. “As such, a different set of expectations apply to me.”

“You are a gently bred young woman,” Will ground out through gritted teeth. “As such, a certain level of expectation is put upon you, I will admit, but you are not a commoner.”

“What I wear is nothing to do with you.” She tried to point a finger at him in a desperate attempt to change the subject but it wavered alarmingly. Issues about social status were too complicated to focus on right now. Her head was starting to ache already, and she suspected that if she kept arguing with him, she would end up looking a fool.

“It is highly inappropriate attire for a lady,” he said firmly.

“I am sure you are already aware of that,” she snapped as tears sting her eyes. “Go away. You spoil everything I do.”

“How?” he demanded when she struggled toward the door. “Georgiana, come back here.”

“No, go away. I don’t want to talk to you. Who let you in anyway? How did you get into this house?” She was aware of her voice becoming shriller the more she spoke but for the life of her seemed to have no self-control over anything she did anymore. Her legs wouldn’t work, her brain wouldn’t work, and she had now started to feel sick from those grapes, or the brandy. Now, to add insult to injury, Will had seen her wearing her red dress and had made it clear she looked foolish in it.

“We are going to talk about this,” Will snapped hauling her to a stand-still before him.

“Why do you always try to put me down?” she cried, yanking her elbow out of his grip. “I have done nothing to you. I am nothing to you. Why are you here?”

“I don’t always put you down,” Will protested.

“Yes, you do. You always ignore the things I want just to please my parents. You are always ignoring what I want. You are always ignoring me. Why, I might as well be a piece of furniture for all you care. You are just like my parents. Go away,” she snapped. “I don’t wish to speak to you anymore.”

“Georgiana, don’t upset yourself so.” Will’s voice turned placating but he got no more than three steps away from her when she turned a glare on him that would have frozen Hell.

“Don’t you dare patronise me,” she hissed.

She knew then that she had to get rid of him because she was positive she was going to be sick sometime soon and didn’t want to lose whatever pride she had left.