“She has indeed.” Georgiana closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly. Instead, an image of James from earlier in the day played before her eyes. He’d been at his desk in the study, poring over her suggestions for the library. His golden curls fell over his forehead and his jaw was set with determination. His eyes, however, had glittered with pleasure at her proposal for saving the books from mold and the suggestions for furnishings now that the roof had been repaired.
She must have sighed because Cecily asked if she was all right. “Are you worried over something?”
Her sister knew her too well.
“A little, yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Cecily asked in her sweet, patient voice.
“I’m afraid to. Saying the words out loud might make them seem even truer.”
“Is it about Lord Ashford? Your feelings for him?”
Her sister’s keen insight might have made her laugh if her stomach hadn’t been clenched with worry. She should have known Cecily would guess her secret.
“Why must I feel this way? Again?” Georgiana asked. “Setting myself up to be rejected is horrifying.”
“It’s not the same. Not really. Robert didn’t reject you. He simply didn’t feel that way about women. There’s nothing you could have done. Seeing as how things have turned out, his willingness to train you in interior design and architecture have been a great gift. It brought us here. Where you might actually find true love.”
“No, it’s impossible. James told me himself he won’t marry. He’s too broken.”
“Aren’t we all broken, in one way or the other?” Cecily asked.
“Regardless, if he were to marry, it would not be to someone like me. He’ll choose someone without scandal attached to her name.Someone with a dowry and family that will be helpful to his reputation instead of the opposite. He has enough of a battle waiting for him without another burden.”
“What do you mean?”
“He will have to fight to gain the respect of his peers. They might continue to see him as a ruffian who ran a tavern instead of a lord.”
“Yes, but there is the way he looks at you,” Cecily said. “We mustn’t discount that.”
Was it true? Was there a reason to hope? In her experience, hope was dangerous. It led to eventual heartbreak. Whatever Georgiana had ever wanted had been denied her other than Robert’s gift of apprenticeship. As Cecily had said, without that, they would not be here.
*
The dream camewithout warning.
She was back in their London apartment. The one she’d shared with Robert. The sitting room was too quiet, the light wrong—yellow and thick like oil. And Julian was there.
He stepped into the room like a shadow that had always belonged, smiling as if nothing had ever happened. The scent of his cologne filled the air, that cloying bergamot she’d once thought sophisticated.
“You’re even prettier now that he’s gone,” he said, running his eyes over her like he owned her. “Grief suits you.”
“No,” she whispered. “Leave.”
He closed the distance in three strides, his breathing heavy and deliberate. “You didn’t say no last time. Not really. Not at first.”
“That’s not true.”
But her voice was soft. Weak. Her arms wouldn’t move.
Then his hands were on her—rough, urgent—fisting the front of her dress, yanking at the fabric until it gave with a sickening tear. She felt the sharp drag of stitching snapping across her skin. His breath wason her neck, hot and sickly sweet.
She screamed—but no sound came. She shoved him—nothing moved. She was frozen, trapped in her own memory.
“Georgie! Wake up.”
A hand touched her shoulder, gentle but firm. Her eyes flew open, breath heaving. She sat bolt upright, tangled in the quilt, gasping for air. Her heart hammered so violently she was certain it would wake the entire house.
