Georgie rose quickly, the book in her lap toppling to the floor. She had completely forgotten it had been there, and her action was even more obvious for it.
She managed to smile, though it felt forced. “It’s such a warm day, I thought I might take a turn about the garden. Anyone is welcome to join me.”
She didn’t wait for anyone to respond and nearly fled the room. The corridor was long, but she passed down it quickly, shaking her head at herself. Could that have possibly been a more inelegant exit? She was growing increasingly hopeless, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Clearing her head would help, but it wouldn’t solve anything.
She moved out to the garden and inhaled deeply, tipping her head back. The sun was warm, and its rays felt heavenly upon her skin. Her aunt had so many flowers in the garden that the fragrance from them was almost intoxicating, but not at all overwhelming. It was the most pleasant breath of spring one could ever hope for.
It was exactly what she needed at this moment.
She wandered along the stone path slowly, meandering without thought or purpose. The shrubs and bushes seemed rich in their colors, vibrant and bold against the commonplace grey of the path beside them. Birds overhead called to each other and sang sweet songs in the afternoon light. It was tranquil and comforting to be out in nature.
If only she could find such feelings in herself.
Voices suddenly reached her, and she looked up to see the others coming out as well.
Tony was with them.
Georgie moved to the small bench nearby and sank down, watching them all with trepidation.
Charlotte, Grace, and Prue chose to stay by the house, settling themselves in chairs the servants set out and Grace began to draw something in the garden while the other two watched.
Izzy and Tony continued towards her, Izzy holding a basket and shears while Tony walked beside her.
Then suddenly Izzy stepped off the path and moved towards a bright collection of flowers.
Tony watched her go, then slowly turned his gaze to Georgie.
When his eyes met hers, Georgie felt a soft gasp well up within her. She gripped the bench tightly beneath her, desperate for some sort of footing to steady her.
He came towards her almost carefully, nothing eager or anxious in his step, nothing to draw anybody’s attention. Yet his eyes were fixed on her with such intensity that she couldn’t move.
“Georgie,” he said as he approached, and her name sounded soft on his lips.
She swallowed hard. “Tony.”
His chest moved on an inhale and she watched it do so, waiting for the accompanying exhale.
“That was some exit you made,” he told her.
She looked up to see a gentle smile and couldn’t find one to return. “I had to. I was about to go mad.”
He tilted his head at her, brow wrinkling. “Why?”
“You didn’t say a word to me,” she heard herself admit before she could stop herself. “You didn’t even look at me. Not once.”
“I couldn’t,” he admitted with a rasp to his voice. “I was afraid of what I might say, or what you might see. What they might see.” He laughed breathlessly. “Georgie, I was afraid that if I looked at you for too long, I might kiss you again right in front of everyone.”
Georgie stared at him in disbelief, then found herself laughing as well and releasing her death grip on the bench. “So, you don’t regret it?”
Tony scoffed almost too loudly. “Regret it? I’ve thought of little else since then, and I’ve been counting down the moments until we could do it again.”
“So have I.” She bit her lip and looked behind him at the others, who were not paying any attention to them. She couldn’t even see Izzy, which was comforting. She glanced quickly down the path, where the larger hedges began. She nearly jumped to her feet. “Come with me.”
“Absolutely,” he replied, following without hesitation.
The hedge was just barely tall enough to hide his height completely, and once they were behind it, Georgie turned to him with a wild grin.
He returned it with one of his own, and then cupped her face, stroking her cheeks gently. “I missed you,” he whispered.
Georgie grabbed his coat in her hands, her fists clenching the fabric. “I missed you, too.”
He kissed her then, long, slow, and leisurely, and she responded in kind. Her skin tingled where he held her, and the rest of her itched with excitement and the thrill of his kiss. Her hands slid up to his neck and pulled him closer, seeking more of him and more of their connection.
Her head swam with delight, caught up in the intensity of the sensations and emotions swirling within and around her. She felt the restraint in his kiss, in the way he held her, and she nearly smiled at it. He kissed her as though she were a treasure, a delicate creature, as though she might break with his touch.
She would not break, and yet she felt as though she could safely crumble in the hold of a man such as this.
It was a humbling, terrifying, exhilarating thought.
Tony broke the kiss before she was ready, and shushed her whimper with a soft laugh, touching his brow to hers. “Georgie, we have to be careful,” he whispered.
“You’re not about to compromise me in my aunt’s garden, are you?” she teased with another laugh. “You’re bound to be disappointed, I’m determined to have towering control.”
He pulled back with a wry expression. “No, I was not going to compromise you, and yes, I am sure you do. I only meant we have to be careful, as there are four friends of ours not far from us, and if we don’t make an appearance soon, they are bound to wonder…”
Georgie rolled her eyes and groaned. “This is so inconvenient.”
“I know.” He sighed and stroked her cheeks, kissing her quickly again. “I could court you, you know.”
Her heart skipped in her chest, and she looked at him dubiously. “After what Charlotte said today? You think that would go over well?”
“So, we continue to steal moments together whenever we can and hope nobody notices?” he asked. He shook his head. “It’s not going to last long, I have a hard enough time hiding my feelings for you just looking at you.”
“What are your feelings for me?” she inquired, rising up on her toes with helpless excitement.
He chuckled and brushed his nose against hers. “Nothing easy to define. But everything good.”
She barely restrained a sigh and released her hold on him. “I feel the same way.” She held out her hand, which he took instantly. “Come on, we must be seen or be suspect. Look as though I’ve just said something ludicrous, and I will scowl at you.”
“You scowl so beautifully,” he praised as they moved on down the path.
She dipped her chin in a modest way. “Thank you. I have worked hard to perfect it.”
The moment they were in sight, their hands separated, and they adopted the aforementioned expressions.
“I have something you need to know,” he said as he shook his head at her.
“What’s that?” she responded, looking all too superior.
“Miranda, my stepmother, is in London, and she is anxious to meet you.”
Georgie tripped on the cobblestone, but caught herself, glaring at Tony without having to act. “How does she know about me?”
“She doesn’t,” he assured her, trying not to laugh. “She has determined that there is a woman plaguing my mind and tormenting my emotions. She’s not wrong.” He gave her a knowing look that made Georgie bite on her lip again. “And she wants to meet whoever it is.”
Georgie shook her head quickly. “You can’t tell her.”
“Obviously.” He snorted. “You don’t even know Miranda. It would be horrible to give her your name this early on. Yet I need to introduce her to all of you. Most especially you.”
“Lovely.” She could sense that Tony adored his stepmother, and yet his reluctance amused her. Something she could play at, then. Marvelous. “I would lov
e to meet her.”
Tony jerked to look at her, his expression horrified. “On second thought, no.”
“No?”
“Very much no. You don’t understand, this is very much not a good idea.” He shook his head very firmly. “No, Miranda isn’t like other women, Georgie. I can’t promise she’ll behave.”
Georgie almost laughed, shrugging. “I can’t promise I will either. I’m taking tea with your cousin’s wife on Thursday. Have her invite your stepmother along. Then we will see if it’s a good idea or not.”
Tony only groaned in response.
Chapter Fourteen
Men are not useless creatures, despite any evidence to the contrary. They do have a purpose in this world, and can offer something of value, if they so choose. They have thoughts, feelings, and impressions, same as the rest of us. Whether or not they decide to employ any of those things is entirely up to them.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 23 October 1817
“I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“Hush, it will be fine.”
“You can say that? You, who knows Miranda personally.”
“It will be fine, Tony. Janet is in there, so you are safe.”
Tony barked a hard laugh. “Janet is in there with Miranda and you find that comforting.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have absolutely no idea, Francis.”
Francis grunted softly, moving around the corner of the billiards table, eyeing the balls carefully. “How bad could it possibly be? You like Miranda.”
Tony leaned his head against his stick, sighing. “I adore Miranda. She was both mother and friend to me after Mother died, and she brought Father back to life. She’s eccentric, she’s refined, she’s witty… Miranda is wonderful. But even I can admit that Miranda can be too brash, too bold, too inquisitive, too rough around the edges…”
Francis leaned over the table and looked up at Tony with a quirk of his brow. “And all of that reflects on my wife how, exactly?” He struck his cue ball, narrowly missing Tony’s, but sending the red ball into the pocket easily.
“Janet has a sharp tongue, which is what I like about her,” Tony told his cousin as he moved to fish the balls out of the pocket. “She’ll say exactly what she thinks, no matter the consequence, and argue her point to the death.”
Francis went to the sideboard and picked up his glass, taking a quick drink. “Tell me about it. We’ve been having a discussion on the same topic for three months now, and absolutely no progress has been made one way or the other because she refuses to budge.”
Tony found that to be an amusing thought and wondered what the topic of discussion was, and whether such discussions belonged more into the class of arguments. He couldn’t have said one way or the other, nor was he about to inquire. The dealings of a married couple within the walls of their home were certainly no concern of his, especially when he happened to be related to them.
But Francis had never been very good at arguing, so he was willing to bet a great deal that the only reason the discussion, or argument, had gone on as long as it had was because Francis was actually right this time.
“And who will win that discussion?” Tony asked, setting up the cue balls once more.
Francis smiled, leaning against his cue stick. “Probably Janet, though she’d be wrong. Makes no difference, really.”
Tony shook his head and leaned across the table to align his shot. “So, she’s stubborn and opinionated. Just what Miranda needs to start a fire.” He took his shot but missed the red ball and hit Francis’s cue ball instead. He hissed as Francis chuckled.
“Poor strategy, Captain,” Francis said as he fished his ball out. “It’s a wonder you ever hit your mark. Ten to nine.”
Tony scowled, straightening. “I’d be happy to prove my skills with firearms at any time.”
“Not in London, you won’t.” Francis grinned and took his shot, missing both balls completely. “Save it for your invitation to Crestley Ridge later in the year. We are overrun with pheasant.”
“Happy to oblige.” Tony looked towards the door, unease gnawing at his stomach.
Just a few doors down, Georgie was taking tea with his favorite female relations. They’d not come to Sterling House together, as he’d wished to, because Georgie had insisted that they approach this event as if they were nothing more than acquaintances.
It made no difference to her that Francis knew Tony was attached to her in some way, which meant that Janet probably suspected more than that, and that all would be sniffed out by Miranda sooner rather than later. There was nothing to tell, she’d insisted, and nothing to lose, so why should they be worried?
Nothing to tell? There was certainly a great deal to tell. Miranda did not need much information to make a fuss, and make a fuss she would if she discovered that the woman who had captured Tony’s affections was having a second helping of cake.
Nothing to lose? Nothing could have been further from the truth. One wrong word from Miranda, and Georgie could be hurt or offended, insulted, appalled, and who knows what else. There was no guarantee that she would like Miranda as much as he did, or that she would understand her the way he did.
He couldn’t lose Georgie. Without having a definition to place on what exactly he felt for her, or what she meant, or where this all might go, he could not lose her.
But Miranda wasn’t going anywhere. She was his stepmother, and he would not be able to wound her by cutting off his association with her.
Just down the hall, two of the most important women in his life were meeting.
One of them knew of the significance.
The other had no idea.
Yet with her rested all the power to make Tony’s future all the more secure, or all the more uncertain.
And Francis thought he had no cause for concern? His wife could sway the meeting one way or the other as her tastes and preferences would allow. She liked Georgie already and was disposed to make this gathering a rather fortunate one.
But what if Janet liked Miranda more than Georgie?
“Are you planning on taking a shot or would you rather go press your ear to the door of my wife’s parlor?”
Tony glanced at his cousin, who looked all too smug in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, grinning at him.
“You find my discomfort amusing, do you?” Tony asked as he took up position again for his turn.
Francis shrugged nonchalantly. “Always have. It’s one of my favorite sights.”
Tony grunted under his breath, sending the cue ball ricocheting off Francis’s to hit the red ball squarely into a corner pocket. “Then I hope Miranda asks Janet about the arrival of your firstborn child and when she should prepare for the christening.”
He straightened and looked at his cousin to find Francis staring at him with wide eyes.
“Janet’s not with child,” Francis stammered. “She’s… and I…”
“Then she will ask about that,” Tony commented in an offhand manner as he moved to take a drink from his glass on the sideboard. “She’s really very interested in the progression of the Sterling family, but you’re the only cousins she cares about.”
Francis swallowed with difficulty and completely botched his next shot. “That’s not her business.”
Tony turned to his cousin. “That’s never stopped her before.” He took another drink and set his glass down, coming back to the table. “Or perhaps she will ask her about Hugh. That’s undoubtedly a much safer topic.”
He knew he’d hit upon a sore spot, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment. He needed to deflect the questions and focus from Georgie and his anticipation for this meeting of theirs to quite literally anything else. Or else he just needed Francis to understand the true gravity of the situation as it stood.
Either outcome would suffice.
Francis glowered as Tony surveyed the table. “I might actually prefer the other topic to that of my brother. He is determined to ruin himself in any poss
ible way, and if he had more money, he would lose that as well.”
Tony shook his head and aligned his cue stick. “Hugh never was much of a card player.”
“And he cannot hold his liquor.” Francis snorted softly and watched as Tony sank the red ball again. “I can only be grateful he has yet to debauch anyone, so at least we don’t have indignant fathers banging on our door demanding satisfaction.”
That wasn’t much of a comfort. “Is it as bad as that?” Tony asked with a wince.
Francis exhaled and took another drink from his glass. “He’s been spending most of his time with Simon Delaney and George Hastings and Daniel Lyman. I rarely see him now, but when I do, he smells of the gaming tables and looks like a drunkard. His funds are his own, and he never gets in too far over his head. I can only hope that he still has some sense and retains some shred of dignity.”
Tony stared at him for a long moment, then felt himself smile. “I’d wager he is rather enjoying my involvement with the Spinsters, eh?”
That earned him a groan and dramatic roll of the eyes. “Please. If I’d known what he wanted you to do, I’d have stopped him long before it got anywhere. The Spinsters may be an annoyance with their popularity, but they’ve never done anybody harm, and it’s certainly not anybody’s business if they want to continue writing. Their Society commentary is usually spot on.”
“You read them?” Tony laughed aloud, covering his eyes briefly.
“Of course, I read them!” Francis countered hotly. “It’s sometimes the best part of the newssheets! And once I’d spotted your name in the Society Dabbler, I had to keep reading to see if you appear often.” He looked at Tony thoughtfully. “You really don’t. Is there some reason for that?”
“If you’re implying that I somehow have any kind of power over what goes into those columns, you are sadly mistaken.” Tony shook his head and gestured for Francis to take his turn. “I am not permitted entrance on Writing Day, so I don’t see the articles until the rest of London does.”
Francis chuckled easily, moving back to the table. “Ah, so you are still an outsider to them, eh? And what does Miss Allen think of that?” He sank Tony’s ball easily, missing the red.
The Merry Lives of Spinsters Page 20