Chapter Sixteen #2
“Because you won’t let me in, Georgie.” The admission came out raw, desperate. “You say you want to be loved, but you won’t trust me with whatever’s troubling you. You pull back every time we get close to something real.”
Shame burned in her throat. He was right, but how could she explain?
How could she tell him about Julian’s hands on her, about how dirty and broken she felt inside?
How no matter what she did, she could not rid herself of him?
He had found her, no matter where she went.
And she had a terrible feeling he would be in London, wreaking havoc.
“It’s not that simple—”
“Isn’t it?” He stood abruptly, moving to add another log to the fire with sharp, agitated movements. “Either you trust someone or you don’t. Either you let them know you or you keep them at arm’s length.”
The fire had died lower, and the room had grown cold. She shivered, and he noticed immediately, his face softening despite his frustration.
“Here, take this.” James reached for his discarded coat. He draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering just a moment too long, his fingers brushing against the curve of her neck. She felt the warmth of his touch like a brand, and her breath stuttered.
A charged silence filled the space between them, but it felt different now—weighted with all the things she couldn’t say.
“I’m glad you’ll be in London with us.” Her voice broke slightly on the words, betraying everything she wasn’t saying.
“So am I,” he said, but the words came out mechanical, distant.
“And maybe someone wouldn’t care if you were broken. Maybe they’d want you exactly as you are.”
He covered her hand with his, and she felt the calluses on his palm, the steady warmth of him. His thumb swept across her knuckles, but when he looked at her, his expression was guarded. “You make me want to try. To choose courage instead of fear.”
She held her breath, waiting for more, but he seemed to catch himself, pulling back emotionally even as his hand remained on hers.
The fire threw shadows across the room as the dark night pressed against the windows.
“It is growing late,” James said finally, his voice once again carefully neutral. “And we’ll be up before the sun.”
She fought against the disappointment pooling in her stomach and managed a benign smile. “An early start will be best if we’re to reach London before evening.”
He stood, offering his hand. When he lifted her to her feet, she stumbled slightly, drawing too close. His jacket slid from her shoulders and onto the floor. They remained, inches apart, looking into each other’s eyes, and for a moment she thought she saw the James from before—warm, open, wanting.
His gaze moved to her mouth. “It seems unfair to all the others that a woman should be as beautiful as you.” He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip as he’d done before, and it had the same effect. Stars burst in her stomach and sent sparks through her entire body.
But then something shifted in his expression, shutters falling across his eyes. He backed away, gesturing toward the door with painful politeness.
“You should precede me out of the room, or I cannot promise to behave as a gentleman.”
She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she heard the dismissal in it.
The careful distance. She nodded and moved toward the door.
However, she paused just outside the drawing room, turning back to face him as he followed her out.
In the dim corridor, lit only by a single sconce, the space between them felt even more intimate and too stimulating.
“Georgiana.” He spoke softly, stepping closer.
They stood inches apart, looking into each other’s eyes. Despite everything that had gone unsaid, despite the barriers he’d erected between them, she could see the longing in his gaze.
“You are everything a man could want. I do hope you know that to be true.” James reached up, brushing his thumb against her bottom lip as he’d done before, and it had the same effect. Stars burst in her stomach and sent sparks through her entire body.
The sensation faded as that familiar barrier in his eyes slammed back into place.
“Goodnight, Georgiana.”
Georgiana. Not Georgie.
She hurried toward her room, heart pounding against her ribs, trying not to cry and praying no one had seen them in such an intimate exchange.
*
When she returned to her room, she discovered her sister had not yet retired either.
Cecily sat cross-legged on her bed, her copper hair loose around her shoulders, brushing out the last tangles of the day. A small candle burned on the bedside table, casting flickering golden light that made everything feel softer, younger—like they were girls again, whispering secrets in the dark.
“I thought you were asleep,” Georgiana said.
“I was trying, but I can’t seem to relax. I’m terrified of what is to come,” Cecily said.
“What in particular frightens you?”
“Of London. Of everything. What if I fail? What if no one wants to dance with me at the balls? What if everyone notices this terrible hair?” Cecily pulled on a stray curl.
Georgiana crossed the room and perched beside her sister. “You will not fail. And your hair is lovely because it’s unusual. Thanks to James, I mean, Lord Ashford, you’ll have a dowry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re engaged by the time the Season ends.”
“Oh, how I hope you’re correct. But I’m not clever like you. I’m shy when I first meet people and can never think of anything witty to say.”
Georgiana took her sister’s hand gently.
“You must simply be yourself. Don’t try too hard to be what you think the world wants.
Because, honestly, they’ll be fools not to see your worth.
You’re kind, and clever, and open-hearted.
You have something most people don’t—genuine goodness.
You don’t need to pretend to be anyone else but you. ”
“But I’ll be alone without you.” Cecily’s voice cracked. “You’ve always been the brave one. The steady one. What if I can’t manage on my own?”
“You won’t be alone,” Georgiana said. “I’ll be right there, every step of the way.”
Cecily blinked fast, trying not to cry. “Do you think Mother will behave herself?”
Georgiana laughed under her breath. “That is an entirely different question.”
Just then, as if summoned by the mention of her name, the door opened and Lavinia stepped inside, her wrapper tied hastily and her eyes bright with barely contained excitement.
“My dear girl.” Lavinia closed the door behind her with exaggerated care. “I do hope you won’t think me terribly improper, but I couldn’t help but notice… that is to say, when I went down for a bit of sherry just now…”
Georgiana felt the blood drain from her face. “What are you talking about, Mother?”
“I saw you with Lord Ashford in the corridor.” Lavinia’s voice carried that particular tone of triumph she got when she’d discovered a particularly choice bit of gossip.
“In your dressing gown, no less. The way he looked at you, the way he touched your face.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear, I do believe his intentions are becoming quite clear.”
Each word felt like a stone dropped onto Georgiana’s chest. She watched her mother’s face, flushed with satisfaction, and felt a deep shame. The moment had been private, precious—not meant for anyone else’s eyes.
Cecily made a small sound of distress. “Mama, perhaps you shouldn’t—”
“What were you doing lurking about the corridors anyway?” Georgiana asked, her voice sharper than intended.
“I told you, I was seeking a glass of sherry to help me sleep.” Lavinia settled herself on the edge of Cecily’s bed uninvited. “And I couldn’t help but observe that his lordship seems quite attached to you. The way a gentleman becomes when his feelings are engaged.”
“Mother, listen to me carefully.” Georgiana spoke with as much sternness as she could muster, given the nervous thumping of her heart. “You are not to say a word about any of this to anyone. Do you understand? Not to Lord Ashford, not to the staff, not to anyone we meet in London.”
Lavinia waved a dismissive hand. “Of course, dear. I’m not a fool. These things must be handled delicately.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “But you must encourage his attentions. Be charming, be agreeable. A man like Lord Ashford doesn’t come along every day.”
“You mustn’t interfere,” Cecily said quietly from the bed. “If Lord Ashford has feelings for Georgie, then he’ll act on them in his own time and his own way. Any pushing from you will only drive him away.”
Lavinia’s expression tightened slightly. “I have managed to keep this family afloat for years, Cecily. I think I know a thing or two about securing advantageous connections.”
“Mother, it’s late.” Georgiana took hold of her mother’s arm and guided her toward the door. “We all need our rest before the journey tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course. We must all look our best.” Lavinia paused at the threshold, her eyes gleaming. “This could change everything for our family, Georgiana. Don’t let the opportunity slip away.”
Georgiana walked her mother back to her room, murmuring soothing words until Lavinia finally settled. When she returned to her own room, Cecily was standing by the window, arms wrapped around herself.
Georgiana let out a breath and dropped onto her bed, suddenly exhausted.
“She’s going to meddle, isn’t she?” Cecily murmured.
“Almost certainly,” Georgiana said with a grim smile. “And I expect she’ll only get worse once we arrive in London.”
“I’ll keep close watch on her,” Cecily said. “We can ask Mrs. Ellsworth to help too.”
Georgiana nodded, but her mind was still on James’s words. You make me want to try. To choose courage instead of fear.
She would need that courage now. All of it.