Conrad, she reflected, wasn’t a man who relinquished control easily. She knew enough about his past to understand why. He was too used to handling everything on his own, and he wasn’t going to like that she’d kept her suspicions about the falling statue from him.
I shall deal with that later. After I close my eyes for a bit…
When Gigi awoke, afternoon sunlight was slanting through a gap in the curtains. She got out of bed and rang for her maid.
“What time is it, Colette?” she asked.
“It is nearing two o’clock, my lady. Lady Blackwood said not to disturb you.”
“But the constable will be arriving soon,” Gigi fretted. “And I wanted to speak with Mr. Godwin before the interview. Is he awake?”
“I’m not certain. Would you like me to check?”
“No, I will go see him myself.” Gigi hurried to the dressing screen. “Please help me get dressed.”
With her usual efficiency, Colette helped Gigi into a lavender walking dress and was putting the finishing touches on a simple coiffure when Mama and Papa came in.
Gigi twisted around at the dressing table. “Constable Rawlins hasn’t arrived yet, has he? I haven’t told Mr. Godwin about what I saw, and I ought to speak to him before?—”
“The constable isn’t here, but Papa and I wished to speak with you,” Mama said.
Mama’s tone brooked no refusal. While Gigi had been expecting a parental interrogation—honestly, she was surprised they’d waited this long—she nonetheless dreaded it.
She strove for nonchalance. “What about?”
“Conrad Godwin,” Papa stated.
Lieutenant-Colonel Marcus Harrington, commander of battalions and defeater of Boney, had emerged full force. It had been said that Papa’s implacability had intimidated soldiers into confessing the truth, and even Gigi felt a bit of trepidation. As much as she wanted her parents to support her relationship with Conrad, gaining their approval was not going to be easy. He hadn’t exactly made a sterling first impression.
Gigi turned to face her parents, who, as usual, stood shoulder to shoulder. A united front.
“What about Mr. Godwin?” she asked brightly.
“Who is he to you, Georgiana?” Papa said.
Uh oh. Being addressed by her full name was never a good sign.
“He’s a friend,” she said. “As Miss Letty mentioned, he has been a generous benefactor to the bath?—”
“I do not give a damn what Godwin has done for the bath.” A muscle ticked along Papa’s firm jaw. “I want to know what is going on between him and you.”
“We spoke to Ethan and Xenia,” Mama added. “We know about your earlier incident with Mr. Godwin.”
“Nothing happened.” When making excuses, Gigi had learned that consistency was important. “I slipped, and he caught me before I fell into the pool?—”
“Then why do you care what happens to this fellow?” Papa demanded.
“I would care about anyone who was almost quashed like an insect by a falling statue.”
“Gigi, that is enough.”
Hearing the steel in Mama’s voice, resignation filled her.
I’m doomed.
“Stop prevaricating and give us the truth.”
“The truth is…” Gigi fiddled with her skirts. “I like Mr. Godwin.”
