The duke turned for the door. “That’s it. I’m going to beat the answers out of Dare.”
“You aren’t going to do any such thing. From what I saw of him this morning, he’s itching to beat something, himself. You will lose his friendship over this, if you interfere.”
“Bloody…Then what am I supp—”
“Don’t do anything. Be patient. That’s what I’m doing.”
He tilted his head at her. “You really aren’t certain what’s going on, are you? You’re not just keeping it from me on principle.”
“No, I don’t know everything, despite my reputation to the contrary. Go home. Emma will probably have heard the rumors by now, too, and I don’t want to have to go through this again.”
“I don’t like it, but all right. For now.”
“That’s all I ever ask.”
“Like hell it is.” With a brief, concerned smile, he left the room.
Frederica bent her head over her letter again, then sat back, sighing. Whatever was going on, it was serious. She’d thought that Georgiana had begun to forgive Tristan for the equally mysterious misstep he’d made before. Now, she wasn’t certain. She would have allowed Greydon to interfere if Georgiana had been the only one hurt this time. She would have insisted on it, in fact. But Dare had been in pain, himself. Deep and obvious pain. And so she would wait and see what happened next.
“I really don’t want to go out tonight,” Georgiana said, as her aunt reached the first floor.
“I know you don’t. That’s why we’re going to dinner with Lydia and James. It’ll be a small gathering, and an early evening.”
Frowning, Georgiana joined the duchess at the front door. “It’s not that I’m afraid to see him or anything.”
“That’s none of my affair,” her aunt answered. “I’m just glad you’re back home.”
That was the problem, Georgie reflected. She wasn’t back home. She really didn’t have a home. Her parents were in Shropshire with her sisters, her brother was in Scotland, Helen and her husband Geoffrey were in York, and she was welcome to stay with Frederica or even with Grey and Emma, if she wished it. Where she had most enjoyed staying, however, had been at Carroway House, spending afternoons chatting with the aunts and playing Commerce with Edward and talking about faraway lands with Bradshaw. And, of course, seeing Tristan.
“Georgiana, are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Despite her aunt’s assurances, she was on edge all night. If Tristan had been as angry as Frederica had intimated, he wouldn’t just let this go. She hadn’t, when he’d hurt her before. She had been awful, saying things to him that other people probably found amusing, but that he had to know meant she hated and despised him. Would he do the same thing to her?
For the next two days she stayed close to the house, and he didn’t come calling or send her a note. She wondered whether he’d gone to call on Amelia Johns, but quickly pushed the thought away. If he had, then good. That had been the reason for all this mess, anyway.
She was supposed to attend the Glenview soiree with Lucinda and Evelyn, and while she didn’t want to go, neither did she want to become a hermit. The wisest thing to do would have been to return to Shropshire, as she’d initially planned. That would mean that she was a complete coward, though. Besides, she had nothing to run from. He hadn’t retaliated, and she hadn’t done anything wrong, anyway. Well, she had, but no one but Tristan knew that, and he deserved what had happened.
“Georgie,” Lucinda said, hurrying across the room and grasping her hands. “I heard you’d returned to your aunt’s. Is everything all right?”
Georgie kissed her friend on the cheek. “Yes. Fine.”
“You did it, didn’t you? You delivered your lesson.”
Swallowing, her gaze on the crowd beyond Lucinda’s shoulder, she nodded. “I did. How did you know?”
“You wouldn’t have left Carroway House, otherwise. You were very determined.”
“I suppose I was.”
Evelyn approached them from the music room. “Everyone’s saying that you and Dare fought again.”
“Yes, I would have to say that we did.” Though since she hadn’t set eyes on him in three days, she didn’t know how anyone could know they were fighting. Possibly because they were always fighting.
“Well, then you should probably know th—”
“Good evening, ladies.”
