His eyebrow quirked. “It’s been a while but I’ll try. However, only if you read Beatrice’s part.”
“I’m no actress,” Georgiana said, allowing herself a turn at flirtation. “In more ways than one. I’m afraid I cannot perform as your actress friend did, on stage or off.”
A flash of heat sparked in his eyes but was quickly masked. “Go on then so that I might judge your talent.”
She opened to Act IV, the scene where Benedick confesses his love for Beatrice. James leaned forward, elbows on knees, to see the text. Their heads bent together over the book.
“‘Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?’” James began, as Benedick.
“‘Yea, and I will weep a while longer,’” Georgiana answered as Beatrice.
They continued trading barbs, James’s delivery growing more animated. When he reached Benedick’s admission of love, his voice dropped lower. “‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?’”
For a moment, their eyes met. She could barely breathe. Oh, how she wished it was James speaking to Georgiana instead of merely playing a part. She could almost believe he loved her but no, she mustn’t allow herself to be lulled into a fantasy that would leave her bereft when it proved false.
Thunder crashed outside, causing the windows to shake.
Georgiana broke contact, looking back down at the page. James leaned closer, placing his finger on a line farther down the scene. “This is the line that stirs my soul. ‘I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.’”
Her breath caught. She stole a glance at him. The firelight played across his features. Surely there was no finer man in the world than the one next to her.
“What a gift it would be to love someone that much.” His voicewas barely above a whisper. “And have it returned.”
“Yes.” The word escaped before she could stop it.
He shifted forward in his chair. The book slipped to the floor, forgotten between them. “Georgie, how beautiful you are in this light. Any light.”
She should stop this. Should make some joke, change the subject, remember her place. Instead, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “They spend so much of the play running from each other. And themselves, I suppose.”
“Out of fear.” His hand moved to the arm of her chair, fingers inches from hers. “But what if they’d confessed their feelings to themselves and each other sooner?”
Lightning illuminated the room. In that split second, she saw raw hunger in his expression that matched the ache building in her chest.
“There wouldn’t be much of a play then,” Georgiana said softly. “If Shakespeare hadn’t kept them apart until the end.”
He moved, one hand sliding to cup her cheek. His thumb traced her bottom lip, and her breath shuddered out.
“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly.
She leaned into his touch instead, eyes fluttering closed. She felt him shift closer, felt the warmth of his breath across her lips—
The door burst open with a bang.
They sprang apart like guilty children.
“Oh dear me.” Mrs. Ellsworth stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “I do beg pardon. I was just—supper is—ready. Mrs. Honeycutt said you’ve asked to eat downstairs tonight?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ellsworth.” James’s voice was remarkably steady, though Georgiana noticed his hands clenched the arms of his chair. “We’ll be along shortly.”
The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and fled.
Georgiana stared down at her lap, afraid to meet his gaze.
“Georgie.” His voice was gentle now. Careful.
She forced herself to look up. He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
He stood, holding out his hand to assist her to her feet. For a moment, they were chest to chest, her head tilted back to meet his eyes.
