Holding my cloak tightly around me, I plunged into the night, where George—looking very formidably gorgeous in a tuxedo and all the fixings, with a white scarf around her neck—was waiting for me in the Jag. She gave a low whistle as I tumbled into the front seat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather save me, poppet?” I yanked the seat belt into place. “What do you need saving from?” “I’m sure I could think of something.”
