Chapter Nineteen #2
Around them, the ballroom continued its glittering dance, but in James’s arms, Georgiana finally felt the world steady. When they turned again, she caught sight of Cecily, still laughing with her partner, blissfully unaware.
Safe. They were both safe.
For now, that was enough.
*
The final notes of the waltz dissolved into a ripple of polite applause, but Georgiana hardly heard them. Her hand remained in James’s, their fingers still linked as if the music hadn’t stopped, as if the world beyond this moment had simply ceased to exist.
“Come.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “Let’s get you some air.”
She didn’t protest. Her pulse still raced, her breath shallow from more than just the exertion of dancing.
James led her through the throng with the confidence of a man on a mission, his hand warm and steady at the small of her back.
The crowd parted for him instinctively—some out of respect, others of curiosity—but he barely seemed to notice.
They stepped through a set of tall glass doors and onto the terrace.
Cool night air swept over them, fragrant with lilacs and the green scent of dew-heavy grass.
Beyond the balustrade, the garden flickered with lanterns and moonlight.
A few guests strolled the gravel paths or stood in murmuring pairs beneath sculpted hedges, but out here, under the open sky, the world felt blessedly quiet.
Georgiana wrapped her arms around herself, the silk of her gown no match for the evening chill.
Without a word, James shrugged out of his coat. When he draped it around her shoulders, his hands lingered for just a heartbeat, his fingers grazing the curve of her neck. The coat carried his warmth, his scent. She wanted to bury her face in the fabric. Forever.
“Thank you.” She pulled the glorious jacket tighter.
He moved to stand beside her at the railing, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands gripped the stone balustrade, knuckles white in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry he frightened you.”
“He always frightens me.” She stared into the garden, her own hands finding the cool stone.
Their fingers were inches apart now, so close she could feel the tension humming between them.
“Even when he’s smiling. Especially when he’s smiling.
He has this way of making threats sound like compliments.
But I know better.” She stopped, jaw clenching.
“Last time, he told me how easy it would be to ruin us completely. How a few well-placed rumors about my Mother, about our finances, and about Robert’s past could destroy any hope Cecily has for a decent match. ”
A muscle ticked in James’s jaw. The sounds of distant strains of a quadrille and the rustling of leaves filled the silence between them.
“I wanted to—” James’s voice came out rough. He stopped, drew a breath. “I wanted to drag him outside and make him answer for every word.”
She turned to look at him then, startled by the violence threading through his tone.
His eyes were hard, his voice low and fierce. “I know it would have caused a scene. I knew I couldn’t do it. But God help me, Georgie, I wanted to.”
Her throat tightened. Part of her was thrilled at his protective fury, even as the practical part of her recoiled. “I don’t want you drawn into his web. Julian doesn’t fight fair. He’d find a way to twist it, make it your scandal instead of his.”
“I don’t care about scandal. We’ve weathered enough of it, haven’t we?” He stopped, turning toward her fully. “I care about you much more than I care about gossip.”
She stared up at him. “James, I feel as if all I do is cause you trouble.” Her voice came out breathless. “I cannot have you or your family hurt over my mistakes.”
“I’m not trying to make this harder.” He closed the gap between them until they were merely an inch apart, close enough now that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “But none of this is your fault. Regardless, I can’t pretend it doesn’t make me want to tear him apart.”
“I understand. If I had your strength I may have done so already.” She pressed her palms flat against the stone railing, grounding herself even as every instinct screamed at her to close the distance between them.
“I don’t want anything to get in the way of Cecily’s success.
He makes me very uneasy in that regard. He’s treacherous.
And this is our only chance. Because of your generosity. ”
“You don’t have to shoulder this alone.” His hand moved on the railing, his pinky finger brushing against hers. Such a small touch, yet it sent fire racing up her arm. “Not any longer.”
The gentle words nearly undid her. “I’ve always had to. And I’ve felt so alone.” The admission slipped out raw and unguarded. She started to turn away, mortified.
“I know, Georgie girl. I know.” His voice was infinitely gentle. “You’ve been carrying everyone for so long. Your mother, Cecily, the business. No one’s ever carried you.”
Her eyes burned. She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, fighting the sob that wanted to escape. Here, in the moonlight with his coat around her shoulders and his warmth so close she could lean into it, she felt dangerously close to crumbling.
A beat passed. Two.
“You don’t have to be strong every moment,” James said. “If you ever do fall apart, I’ll be there to catch you.”
The ache in her chest was so sudden, so sharp, she nearly gasped. For one wild moment, she imagined what it would feel like to let go and step into his arms and let him take care of her. The longing was so fierce it frightened her.
His hand found hers then, fingers intertwining, warm and solid and real.
They stood like that, hands linked, bodies so close she could feel his breath stirring her hair. Her pulse thundered. If he leaned down—if she rose up on her toes—their lips would meet.
The thought made her tremble.
But he didn’t move. And neither did she.
Because they both knew that people watched for moments just like this between a man and woman, opening her up to ruin.
Even if every fiber of her being ached to let him take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several men walking onto the terrace. She stiffened. “I should go back inside. We cannot risk being alone like this.” The words scraped her throat raw.
He nodded, but his fingers tightened on hers for just a moment before releasing her. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
She stepped away on unsteady legs, shrugging out of his coat and holding it out to him. When he took it, their fingers brushed again, and she nearly lost her resolve entirely.
At the glass doors, she couldn’t help but glance back.
James stood alone at the railing, his white shirt gleaming in the moonlight, staring out at the garden as though trying to make sense of forces beyond his control.
Walking away from him felt like tearing something vital from her chest. And the terrifying truth was, she wasn’t sure how many more times she’d be strong enough to do it. She must remember her reason for everything. Cecily.
With that in mind, she walked back inside.
*
The supper room shimmered with candlelight and gossip.
Long tables gleamed beneath white linen and silver, laden with lobster patties nestled in pastry shells, champagne jellies quivering like her own unsteady nerves, and syllabub so frothy it seemed barely tethered to its dish.
The cloying sweetness in the air made her stomach turn.
Towers of sugared fruits gleamed beneath cloches of etched glass, while footmen moved like clockwork among the crowd, offering delicacies and replenishing wine.
Georgiana pressed her back against the cool marble column, a glass of chilled punch trembling slightly in her gloved hand.
She was still catching her breath after the waltz, but the coolness of the drink did nothing for the heat pulsing in her cheeks or the hammering of her pulse against her too-tight corset.
The scent of jasmine and sherry announced her mother’s approach before Lavinia materialized at her side.
“Darling,” Lavinia said, settling beside her with a concerned frown. “You look flushed. Are you feeling quite well?”
“I needed some air earlier.” Georgiana’s voice came out steadier than she felt.
“Ah.” Lavinia nodded knowingly. “Lady Pemberton was just telling me about poor Mrs. Hartwell. Do you remember her? The colonel’s widow? She’s forty-three now and living on her sister’s charity. Such a difficult position for a woman alone.”
Georgiana’s grip tightened on her glass. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh, nothing specific, dearest. Only that Lady Standish mentioned—in the kindest way, you understand—that you and Lord Ashford stepped outside together.” Lavinia selected a candied violet from a passing tray, her tone carefully casual. “I do hope you’re being careful about appearances.”
The marble column felt suddenly inadequate against Georgiana’s back. “We spoke for perhaps five minutes.”
“I’m sure it was perfectly innocent.” Lavinia’s voice carried just a hint of worry. “But people do talk, and your reputation is so important. Especially now that Cecily needs every advantage.”
The words stung because they were true. Georgiana forced herself to breathe. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake.”
“Of course you are. You’re such a thoughtful girl.
” Lavinia paused, studying her daughter’s face with apparent maternal concern.
“I must confess, I’m rather puzzled. After what I witnessed that night before we left Ashford Manor—the way he looked at you, touched your face—I rather expected he would have declared himself by now. ”
Georgiana’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t very well explain the intimacy of their conversations, the way he’d restrained himself out of honor, the promises hanging unspoken between them.
“There’s nothing to tell. We are friends.”
Lavinia’s expression softened with what looked like genuine bewilderment.
“Oh, my dear. The way that man looks at you. What on earth is he waiting for?” She shook her head gently.
“I only worry that you might be waiting for something that may not come. You’re still young enough to attract a good man’s attention, but not indefinitely. ”
Each word felt like a small weight settling on Georgiana’s chest. The glittering room suddenly felt suffocating.
“I need to return to Cecily,” she managed.
“Of course, darling.” Lavinia touched her arm lightly. “I only want what’s best for you. For both my girls. But perhaps… perhaps you might encourage him along? Men can be so slow to act without a little guidance.”
Before Georgiana could respond, Cecily came hurrying up to them, cheeks bright with excitement.
“I’ve met the most wonderful man. And his mother’s invited us all to dinner the day after tomorrow.”
“How lovely,” Lavinia said, her earlier concerns immediately forgotten. “Tell us everything.”
“It’s Viscount Alderidge’s son, Nathaniel,” Cecily bubbled.
Lavinia’s eyes lit up with genuine pleasure. “What excellent news. I must introduce myself to his mother properly.”
As her mother moved away, Georgiana felt the familiar weight of expectation settling around her shoulders. Lavinia’s words had been loving, even reasonable—which somehow made them cut all the deeper.