Chapter Fourteen
Georgiana
Rain lashed against the tall windows of the drawing room, turning the late afternoon into a watercolor wash of gray and silver.
Georgiana sat at the long oak table, fabric swatches and wallpaper samples fanned out before her like a deck of oversized playing cards.
The storm had crept in with little warning, a moody spring tempest that rattled the panes and hissed along the eaves.
But she found she didn’t mind. Not in the haven of the drawing room.
She reached for a swatch of velvet in a soft blush shade, running her fingertips over its nap.
Not right for the library, but perhaps one of the bedrooms?
Her mind wandered to James’s chambers. He’d told her how good it felt to sleep in what felt like his first real bed since he and his siblings were sent away.
The thought of him in any bed at all sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.
Stop it, she chided herself. He’s your employer. Nothing more.
But the way he’d held her in his arms? It had felt like more. A great deal more.
The fire behind her crackled softly, offering warmth against the chill.
Mrs. Ellsworth had brought her a fortifying pot of tea, which had sat untouched.
Now, though, as the thunder rumbled in the distance, she abandoned her samples, poured a cup of tea and wandered over to a chair by the fire.
She’d chosen Much Ado About Nothing to read in preparation for James’s ball.
She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed this particular play.
Beatrice and Benedick, forever sparring, forever denying what everyone else could see, intrigued her in a way it hadn’t before now.
She didn’t want to examine that too carefully but she knew why.
Even if she would never admit it to anyone but herself.
She’d just settled in, opening the play to the first page, when the door creaked open.
“Georgie, good afternoon,” James said, his voice like warm honey.
Her pulse jumped. She looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, rain-damp hair curling at his collar. He’d changed into a dark waistcoat and open shirt, no cravat in sight. The casual disarray made him look younger. Dangerous.
“Have you been out in this weather?” She aimed for lightness.
He pushed off the doorframe and approached. “I had to go into the village to meet with a few of the local businessmen. Rain was coming down hard by the time I left.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Georgiana asked. “I’m having one and reading an old friend.” She held up the play to show him.
“Actually, I could use a brandy to ward off the chill.” He poured himself a drink from the decanter on one of the side tables and then dropped into the chair across from her, long legs stretched toward the fire. His eyes fell to the book in her lap. “I think that is my favorite of his comedies.”
“I share your opinion. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this one.”
“One of the best couples ever written, in my humble opinion,” James said. “I once spent time with an actress who played Beatrice.”
“Time?” She laughed, knowing exactly what he meant.
He chuckled. “My reputation as a rogue is not without merit.”
“I shall put all thoughts of that part of your life aside,” Georgiana said.
“She used to use me to help her memorize her lines. I fancied myself quite the actor.”
“No, really? I must hear you.”
His eyebrow quirked. “It’s been a while but I’ll try. However, only if you read Beatrice’s part.”
“I’m no actress,” Georgiana said, allowing herself a turn at flirtation. “In more ways than one. I’m afraid I cannot perform as your actress friend did, on stage or off.”
A flash of heat sparked in his eyes but was quickly masked. “Go on then so that I might judge your talent.”
She opened to Act IV, the scene where Benedick confesses his love for Beatrice. James leaned forward, elbows on knees, to see the text. Their heads bent together over the book.
“‘Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?’” James began, as Benedick.
“‘Yea, and I will weep a while longer,’” Georgiana answered as Beatrice.
They continued trading barbs, James’s delivery growing more animated. When he reached Benedick’s admission of love, his voice dropped lower. “‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?’”
For a moment, their eyes met. She could barely breathe. Oh, how she wished it was James speaking to Georgiana instead of merely playing a part. She could almost believe he loved her but no, she mustn’t allow herself to be lulled into a fantasy that would leave her bereft when it proved false.
Thunder crashed outside, causing the windows to shake.
Georgiana broke contact, looking back down at the page. James leaned closer, placing his finger on a line farther down the scene. “This is the line that stirs my soul. ‘I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.’”
Her breath caught. She stole a glance at him. The firelight played across his features. Surely there was no finer man in the world than the one next to her.
“What a gift it would be to love someone that much.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And have it returned.”
“Yes.” The word escaped before she could stop it.
He shifted forward in his chair. The book slipped to the floor, forgotten between them. “Georgie, how beautiful you are in this light. Any light.”
She should stop this. Should make some joke, change the subject, remember her place. Instead, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “They spend so much of the play running from each other. And themselves, I suppose.”
“Out of fear.” His hand moved to the arm of her chair, fingers inches from hers. “But what if they’d confessed their feelings to themselves and each other sooner?”
Lightning illuminated the room. In that split second, she saw raw hunger in his expression that matched the ache building in her chest.
“There wouldn’t be much of a play then,” Georgiana said softly. “If Shakespeare hadn’t kept them apart until the end.”
He moved, one hand sliding to cup her cheek. His thumb traced her bottom lip, and her breath shuddered out.
“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly.
She leaned into his touch instead, eyes fluttering closed. She felt him shift closer, felt the warmth of his breath across her lips—
The door burst open with a bang.
They sprang apart like guilty children.
“Oh dear me.” Mrs. Ellsworth stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “I do beg pardon. I was just—supper is—ready. Mrs. Honeycutt said you’ve asked to eat downstairs tonight?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ellsworth.” James’s voice was remarkably steady, though Georgiana noticed his hands clenched the arms of his chair. “We’ll be along shortly.”
The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and fled.
Georgiana stared down at her lap, afraid to meet his gaze.
“Georgie.” His voice was gentle now. Careful.
She forced herself to look up. He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
He stood, holding out his hand to assist her to her feet. For a moment, they were chest to chest, her head tilted back to meet his eyes.
“There’s much to say between us,” he said quietly. “Isn’t there? Yet, I cannot find the right words to say exactly how I feel.”
Thunder rolled across the sky, and she shivered despite the fire’s warmth. “Nor I. Only that I’m frightened.”
“Of what?”
“Of caring too much. Of having my heart broken by a man who says he will never marry.”
“If the right person comes along, a man might discover there are… other ways to secure happiness.”
Georgiana felt the blood drain from her face. Other ways. The phrase echoed in her mind, each repetition making his meaning clearer. He wasn’t speaking of marriage at all. He was speaking of… arrangements. The kind respectable women didn’t discuss, but whispered about in scandalized tones.
“I see.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Georgie?” He frowned, clearly puzzled by the change in her expression. “What’s wrong?”
She stepped back, her chest tight with humiliation. How foolish she’d been, standing here like some lovesick girl, imagining he might actually—that a man of his station—would ever consider her worthy of his name.
“I must go.” She turned toward the door, desperate to escape before the tears burning behind her eyes could fall.
“Wait—” He reached for her arm, but she pulled away.
“Please don’t.” Her voice cracked despite her efforts to control it. “I understand perfectly what you are suggesting, and I—I cannot. I will not.”
She fled before he could respond, leaving him standing by the dying fire, his hand still outstretched and complete bewilderment written across his features.
*
Downstairs, in the kitchen, golden lamplight pooled on copper pots and the worn wooden table, but Georgiana felt the atmosphere shift the moment she entered. Mrs. Honeycutt bent over her stew pot with unusual concentration, while Mrs. Ellsworth busied herself with plates, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
They knew. Of course they knew.
“Please sit,” Mrs. Honeycutt said without turning. “Storm’s made everyone restless tonight, but I have something to warm our bellies.”
James pulled out Georgiana’s chair, his fingers brushing her shoulder as she sat. The simple touch made her stomach clench with equal parts longing and shame. She couldn’t bear to look at him—not after what he’d suggested, not when her traitorous body still responded to his nearness.
Cecily watched them both with barely concealed curiosity, chin propped on her hand, eyes wide. “Quite the tempest. Thunder rattled the windows something fierce. I do hope nothing was… interrupted.”
Heat flooded Georgiana’s cheeks. “What could possibly have been interrupted?” she asked, her voice pitched too high.
“Other than our discussion of Shakespeare,” James said. “We were discussing the upcoming ball.”
“Yes,” Georgiana seized on the excuse. “Discussing the performance. Nothing more.”
Mrs. Ellsworth dropped her spoon. The clatter rang through the kitchen like a gunshot.
“Butterfingers tonight,” the housekeeper muttered, her cheeks flaming.
Cecily, bless her, began chattering about her latest ideas for the gardens. Georgiana pushed food around her plate, ridiculously aware of James across from her. When their feet accidentally brushed under the table, she jerked back as if scalded, nearly knocking over her water glass.
The meal stretched endlessly. Finally, she pleaded a headache and escaped to her room. Once safely in the space she shared with Cecily, she collapsed onto the bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and let the tears fall at last.
*
An hour later, Cecily found her still curled on the bed, fully clothed.
Her sister came to perch on the side of the bed, smoothing locks of hair away from her forehead. “What has happened? And don’t tell me nothing because I know you. Something’s happened between you and James. You were as jumpy as startled birds during supper.”
“What did Mrs. Ellsworth say?” Georgiana asked. “About what she saw upstairs?”
“She said nothing at all but I could tell something had agitated her. What did she see upstairs?”
Georgiana sat up, her hands clenched in her lap. The memory of his thumb on her lip made her stomach flip. “It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter.”
“Why?” Cecily’s brush stilled. “Because he’s our employer? Because of what people might say?”
“Because he’s convinced he’s too damaged for love.
Because I’m someone he hired to restore his family’s legacy, not fall in love with him.
” Her voice cracked. “I cannot love another man and have him refuse to marry me. It was bad enough with Robert rejecting me as he did. But to be James’s mistress?
My heart cannot do it. I want more, Cecily.
I want to be his wife. Bear his children.
Be in a marriage where we actually share a bed. ”
Cecily took Georgiana’s hands, her expression one of bewilderment. “He asked you to be his mistress? Are you sure?”
“He didn’t say it directly but the implication was there.” Tears pricked her eyes. “What am I doing? What am I supposed to do? I am in too deep already.”
“Oh, Georgie.” Cecily squeezed her fingers.
“You left everything behind to protect me. You’ve stood up to creditors and gossips and Father’s ruin.
You even manage Mother, which we both know is no small feat.
You’re the bravest person I know. You will simply tell him the truth. It is either marriage or nothing.”
Georgiana stared at their joined hands. “He told me before—he cannot marry. Or won’t. I cannot participate in something untoward. If he wants a mistress, I am not that woman. No matter how badly I wanted him to kiss me.”
“He tried to kiss you?”
“Mrs. Ellsworth came in and interrupted, but yes, I believe that was what would have happened.”
“Lord Ashford is an honorable man who respects you. If he was about to kiss you, it’s because he cares deeply for you.”
“What if he’s happy we were interrupted? Relieved. Just the thought of that is too much to bear, which tells me how far I’ve let myself fall. I’m playing a dangerous game. One that will hurt me if I continue.”
“What if he isn’t happy you were interrupted?” Cecily countered. “What if he’s lying awake right now, wondering the same things?”
The thought of James sleepless, perhaps pacing his room, perhaps thinking of her was too much.
“I don’t know what to do,” Georgiana said.
“Perhaps, just this once, you don’t have to do anything.
Simply let this wonderful thing between you unfold as it should.
You’ve never learned the art of letting go, my dear sister.
But it might be time to leave it up to destiny.
If I’m correct, a great love story is unfolding before our very eyes.
Please, don’t push him away out of fear.
Let something good happen. You deserve all the happiness in the world. ”
“What if he will not marry me?”
“Then you will walk away and you will be all right. You do not need him.”
“But I want him,” Georgiana said. “I want all of him.”
“Have a little faith, Georgie. Look at all you’ve done with your life despite all the blows and hardships. You will see soon that a reward is coming your way. In the form of one large, rugged, dangerously handsome man.”
They stared at each other in the lamplight. Thunder rumbled distantly, the storm moving on.
“Let him come to you, Georgie. And he will. Please don’t run away before you even know what he truly wants.” Cecily stood, pressing a kiss to her sister’s head.
They both prepared for bed. When she finally slipped under the sheets and warm blankets, she closed her eyes and let the scene from earlier replay over and over in her mind until she fell asleep.