“Actually I didn’t mean help in exactly that way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I meant that I’d help her along.”
Amy gaped at her.
Georgina nodded. “I love to give her a little push.”
“You’d push your friend in front of a moving carriage?” Amy was silent, then she began to laugh. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re just teasing me.”
Georgina jabbed the fork into the pie crust. “I hate Phoebe Dearborn.”
Amy was still laughing. “Even so, you wouldn’t harm her.”
“Well,” Georgina admitted. “I suppose not, but it would be tempting.” Her tone said that she would love the freedom to do something dire to Phoebe Dearborn.
“If you had escaped first. I know that you would have come to help me.”
“Would I?” Georgina tapped the fork against her chin. Her face was honestly thoughtful. “I don’t know if I would have.”
“I think you try to be cold and hard because you think you have to be.”
Georgina laughed sarcastically. “You don’t know me at all.” She dropped the pie tin on the rock next to her and tossed the fork inside. Her voice grew steely and her expression narrowed. “I will do whatever I have to do to survive and to win.” She leaned over and stuck her hands in the water, then dried them furiously on her petticoat.
Amy looked down at the half-eaten doughnut in her hand. “I couldn’t be happy if I had to hurt another person to get what I wanted.”
“How quaint and idealistic.”
Amy just shrugged, because she felt quaint when she was with Georgina. A plain pine rocker sitting next to a Chippendale chair made of rare ebony.
“You say you wouldn’t hurt someone.”
“Not purposely.”
Georgina watched her with a knowing look. “Then tell me something.”
“What?”
“Why did you crack the oaf’s brother with a whisky glass?”
“I didn’t want to!” Amy lowered her voice and stared at her lap. “I was scared. He said he was going to take me to bed. I couldn’t let him do that. I had to do something.”
“I see.” Georgina nodded. “I’ll give you that excuse. It was you or him.” She paused. “And I suppose you pointed that gun at the oaf because it was him or us. But...” The word just hung there.
“But what?”
“Why did you humiliate William De Pysters in front of everyone at the gala?”
“I didn’t humiliate him. I gave him his ring back because he lied to me.” When Georgina didn’t say anything, Amy added, “He didn’t love me.”
“You thought he loved you?” Georgina shook her head. “Love and marriage don’t go together. Believe me. Why would someone marry for love? It’s just a useless emotion, a figment of the imagination.
“Name, wealth, and bloodlines are what matters. Even beauty doesn’t really hurt or help you. Although I suppose a man can come around a little quicker if you give him a little encouragement—low-cut necklines, a kiss that’s long enough to light a little passion, a feminine gesture like a finger to his lips or a hand on his chest.
“I’ve seen those things bring a man to his knees, but only if you have the right name or enough money. Certainly an emotional attachment like love—which I don’t believe exists anyway—has no place in any social marriage.”
Amy raised her chin. “My parents loved each other.”
