“That he’s here,” Evie finished in a whisper.
Georgiana froze. With all of her being, she didn’t want to turn around. Yet she couldn’t keep herself from doing so. Tristan was just a few feet away, close enough to touch. She couldn’t read his expression, but his face was pale, and his eyes glittered.
“Lord Dare,” she said, her voice not quite steady.
“I was wondering if you would speak with my aunts for a moment, Lady Georgiana,” he said, his voice curt and his spine stiff. “They’re worried about you.”
“Of course.” Squaring her shoulders and pretending not to notice the concerned looks from her friends, she walked off with him.
He didn’t offer his arm, and she kept her hands folded behind her. She wanted to run, but then everyone would know that something had happened between them. Rumors were one thing, but if she or Tristan did anything to confirm them, she would have no choice about going back to Shropshire.
She sneaked a sideways glance at him. His jaw was clenched, but other than that he gave no outward sign of agitation. She was fairly shaking with it, but he didn’t round on her as she expected. Rather, he did as he’d said he would, and stopped beside his aunts.
“Oh, dear Georgie,” Edwina said, grabbing her arm and hugging her. “We were so worried about you! Just leaving like that without saying anything.”
“I’m so sorry,” she answered, squeezing the older woman’s hand. “I…had to leave, but I shouldn’t have done it without saying something first. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Is your aunt all right?” Milly asked, coming forward.
“Yes, she’s…” Georgiana looked at her for a moment, belatedly realizing that she didn’t have to look down at Tristan’s aunt. “You’re walking!”
“With the help of my cane, but yes. Now, what’s happened to you? Did Tristan say something to make you angry again?”
She felt his gaze on her face, but refused to look at him. “No. I just needed to go. And look at you! You don’t need me any longer.”
“We still enjoy your company, my dear.”
“And I enjoy yours. I’ll come to visit very soon. I promise.”
Tristan stirred. “Come, Georgiana, I’ll get you a glass of punch.”
“I really don’t—”
“Come with me,” he repeated, his voice lower.
This time he did offer his arm, and with his aunts watching, she didn’t dare refuse it. The muscles were tight as iron, and her fingers trembled on his sleeve.
“My lord, I—”
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked in the same quiet voice.
“Afraid? N…no. Of course not.”
He looked down at her. “Why not? You should be. I could ruin you in less than a second.”
“I’m not afraid, because you deserved it.”
Tristan leaned closer, a sneer pulling at his mouth. “What, exactly, did I deserve?”
Across the room Aunt Frederica was looking at them, her expression concerned. Grey stood beside her, his stance aggressive. Georgiana looked back up at Tristan. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
“You wouldn’t see me elsewhere. Answer the damned question. Was this just revenge?”
“Revenge? No. It…I…”
“You know what I think?” he said, still more quietly, his hand covering hers.
To their audience it no doubt looked like a gesture of affection; they couldn’t know his grip was steel, and that she couldn’t have broken away from him if she tried. “Tristan…”
