Chapter Twenty-Five
In the carriage on the way home that evening, Georgiana’s fingers drummed the windowsill relentlessly, her eyes bright, cheeks
still flushed with excitement. “Miss Laurel has invited me back to ride with her again. Apparently, she has a friend who cannot
afford to have a horse of her own, and so, stables it at Ruddock House.” She caught Caroline’s expression. “I shall not partake
in another race, I promise you.”
“Good. I fear the first one took a year or four off my life expectancy.”
“I am an excellent horsewoman. You said as much.”
“And you proved it today, but accidents do happen. All the skill in the world cannot overcome a moment of bad luck.”
“You had better be careful.” She grinned. “Or else I shall begin to think that you are worried about me, Miss Bingley.”
“I simply do not look forward to being the person tasked with bringing a mangled corpse back to your brother, Miss Darcy,”
Caroline said. “Now, come here.”
Georgiana shifted, plopping into the seat beside Caroline and laying her head on Caroline’s shoulder.
“You make a fair point. I would not like to face my brother’s wrath.
” She shifted again, wriggling as if trying to find the most comfortable spot.
“I rather thought you liked to watch people race,” she muttered.
For a moment, Caroline couldn’t think what on earth she’d meant. “Race?” she repeated. “Why, I—” Then it dawned on her. Radcliffe, the day of the party by the lake. The rowing race. “Do not tell me that was why you accepted the challenge?”
“No.” Georgiana had gone very still. “Well, not entirely,” she conceded. “I do love to ride, and I am rarely permitted to
do so as freely as I did today. A young lady is especially not permitted to race other young ladies. But I suppose there might
have been a tiny part of me that wanted to . . . well . . .”
“Wanted to what?” Caroline asked. “Show off? Impress me?”
Georgiana’s shrug was tiny indeed, the barest motion against Caroline’s own shoulder. “It’s possible.”
“Dear, dear.” She sighed. “Well, as long as you had a good time scaring me half to death.”
The chuckle against her bare skin was warm. “So, am I in danger of losing your affections to the youngest Miss Chester? She
rather worships you, I think.”
“You noticed that, did you?” Caroline snorted. “You may consider yourself secure enough. Though she plied me with all sorts
of questions about . . . well. I blush to even repeat them.”
Georgiana was silent for a moment. “She knows about you and I, then.”
Dreading a fight, Caroline sought to stave it off. “I apologise. She took me by surprise and I—I ought to have denied it,
I know, but she promised not to tell anyone, even her sister, and—”
“One often finds that,” Georgiana interrupted, “when one meets others who share similar natures and inclinations, that there is a tendency to keep those secrets and take them to our graves. I doubt Miss Chester will betray us.”
Georgiana’s hand reached for hers, found it, and squeezed it tightly. Caroline’s entire body twinged with an ache, pleasant
and sad all at once, which made tears prick her eyes. Holding hands didn’t mean anything, really. It was merely an expression
of affection and attraction, like their lovemaking. Friends often held hands, did they not?
But you feel it differently of late, the voice in her head pointed out. And these feelings have not been friendly for quite some time now.
She chased the thought away and reached across with her right hand to stroke Georgiana’s hair. So soft, so lovely. Georgiana mewled, snuggling closer, and another, equally unexpected, but quite different picture came to Caroline’s mind:
she and Georgiana, like this, always. That was foolish, of course—they had to complete the Great Endeavour, the end result
of which was to land her a worthy husband for a match of, if not love, then something close enough that it made no difference.
And if she was starting to wonder whether Georgiana was the only one who had ever—perhaps could ever—make her feel these feelings,
then she had better find a way to alter that and fast. Caroline had begun this scheme with the clear intent to change, but
now she was beginning to wonder whether she was changing more than she’d meant to, and worse, whether she could stop changing
even if she wanted to.
She rather suspected the answer was no.
Georgiana had drifted asleep on Caroline’s shoulder before they were even half the way home, for which Caroline was rather grateful.
Her thoughts tumbled about her mind, leaving her restless and disquieted as she stared out at the sunset; they only slowed when Miss Darcy’s fingers twitched, closing around Caroline’s forearm and stroking the skin there.
“You feel cold.” Georgiana yawned and sat upright. “How far away are we?”
“Perhaps fifteen minutes or so.”
“Indeed?” she purred, and the tone sent a sudden jolt of desire soaring through Caroline’s body. “That seems like plenty of
time to get you warmed up.” Her hand squeezed Caroline’s thigh, sliding higher.
“I do not think I can wait until we get home,” Caroline murmured.
“Oh? But what other option do we have?”
Caroline’s hand slid over Georgiana’s breast, cupping it, forcing her to arch her back to obtain more delicious pressure.
“It is rather dark already,” she pointed out, her lips pressing against Georgiana’s ear. “And we are still miles from home.
No one will see us.”
Georgiana’s head lolled back as Caroline’s hand slid up and into her hair, tugging it at the roots in the way Miss Darcy particularly
liked. “If discovered, our reputations—”
“It is not as if we are being followed on the road.” Caroline continued to fight through the layers of fabric to reach her
treasure; surely no pirate ever had so much difficulty. And ah, here was treasure indeed, driving all thoughts of brothers
and husbands from her mind. Georgiana gasped as Caroline’s fingers made contact, sliding up a warm thigh to find a patch of
skin already slippery with excitement. “Is this infelicitous?” Caroline murmured, drawing a slow circle through soft, slick
heat.
“Yes,” came the strangled reply.
“Really? Ought I stop?”
“Please don’t.” Georgiana buried her face in Caroline’s neck and tugged her closer until their bodies were flush against each other.
This position made it more difficult for Caroline to move her hand.
Needs must when the devil drives, she thought, bearing the discomfort, and stroked faster.
Her reward was a delicious whimper, followed by the scrape of Georgiana’s
teeth against the place where her neck and shoulder joined.
“Careful,” she warned. “That sort of thing will indeed be noticeable to the hordes.”
“My apologies.” Georgiana didn’t sound sorry. She didn’t look sorry either; all parted, wet lips and glittering eyes. “We
shall have to be very quiet, then.”
“I will be as quiet as a church mouse,” she promised.
Georgiana’s questing fingers squeezed Caroline’s thigh again, then moved to her calf, scooping the fabric of her dress out
of the way. Caroline bit her lip hard enough to hurt when Georgiana’s fingers found the warm flesh of her knee and curled
underneath, stroking the soft skin there. “Are church mice especially quiet? Quieter than other mice, would you say?”
“Why, certainly,” Caroline managed, as Georgiana’s hand skimmed over her knee and slid along her bare thigh. “One must always
be quiet in a church, you see. Even a mouse must abide by the rules.”
“Is that so?” Georgiana ducked her head, grasping Caroline’s earlobe in her teeth. Her fingers found slick heat and dragged
through it. Caroline bit back a gasp and focused on breathing rather than screaming, which was much easier said than done.
“How very obedient of them.”
“Indeed, the clergy are always saying so. Mice are the most tractable of all the . . . small vermin,” Caroline babbled, hardly aware of what she was saying.
She clutched at Georgiana’s shoulders, trying to pull her closer, but before she could manage anything of note, the carriage began to rumble over familiar ground.
Hurriedly she smoothed down her dress and offered her handkerchief.
Instead of taking it, Georgiana cast her a coy smile and began to lick her fingers clean, one by one.
Stunned, Caroline gaped at her. Is that a thing we can do? Why did she never mention it before?
Cursing the proximity of Pemberley, she staggered out after Georgiana, who smoothed down her gown and sashayed into the house
as if nothing untoward had ever happened to her.
The housekeeper greeted them in the great hall, but Caroline barely heard what words were exchanged. She had no idea how Georgiana
could utter anything even remotely sensible right now and had to settle for smiling tightly at Mrs Reynolds before marching
off in the direction of the staircase. She wasn’t satiated by what had happened in the carriage. If anything, her inner fire
blazed even more brightly. Georgiana followed closely behind her up the stairs, overtaking Caroline and turning left at the
landing as if to make for her own room.
“And just where,” Caroline murmured, “do you think you’re going?”
“I was merely—”
Impish little whelp. “Don’t even think about it. If you dare run, I shall pursue you to the ends of the earth.”
Georgiana grinned. “Lead on, then.”