“Well, you know that I reside at Silverton Hall. Lord and Lady Silverton are my Aunt and Uncle. Lady Silverton is my mother's sister,” she began.
“Lady Silverton? Your Aunt, Aunt Whatever-her-name-is, surely?”
“She insists on my using her title,” Georgia said with chagrin. “Since I came to live at Silverton. She is a great one for formality.”
“Formality? As am I, but I would not call my mother's sister using a title rather than her name,” Keaton responded, genuinely surprised.
Georgia quickly removed her hand from his.
“I often wondered what I had done to upset them so much. I looked for fault in everything I did. I could not find it. They justdisliked me,” she breathed, her voice pitched low for his ears only.
She understands already how attuned my hearing is and uses that knowledge to make our conversation private even in a public place. Very clever.
“That sounds unpleasant,” Keaton commented. “And how did you come to be there?”
“My brother was Lord of... well, that does not matter. He went missing. I do not know if he is alive or dead. His property went into trust until he reclaims it or is declared dead. I believe in less than a year, that will occur if he does not return.”
Keaton reached out, further this time, but did not encounter her hand.
“You do not need to, Keaton. Merely smile as though you are enjoying my company,” Georgia said in a voice that said if she was smiling, it was forced.
“Take my hand,” he ordered.
“No.”
“I amtryingto appear comforting and affectionate,” he pressed, gritting his teeth behind a smile.
Georgia laughed, a light, musical sound. “You should never take to the stage, you do not have the makings of an actor.”
A waiter arrived bearing tea, sandwiches, and cakes. Keaton heard the sound of crockery being arranged on the table, and then Georgia's hands were on his. She guided his touch around the table, helping him identify cups, saucers, plates, and items of food.
“Thank you,” he said with genuine gratitude, feeling eyes upon him.
“No one is looking,” she reassured.
“Someone isalwayslooking,” he replied.
“So, I have shared my past with you. Will you do the same?” she asked.
By Heaven, no!
But alien as the notion was, Keaton realized that he wanted to be known to her, wanted to share. It was an intimacy, like kissing, that would render him closer to her.
But I do not wish to be closer to her. Closeness in appearance only is what I want.
“What do you wish to know?” he asked instead with trepidation.
“How did you lose your sight?”
Keaton sighed. Of course that would be the first question she would ask. What else did anyone ever wish to know?
“No, wait. I do not wish to ask that. How did you injure your hands?” She changed her question suddenly.
Keaton was left open-mouthed.
She laughed again. “Have I surprised you?”
“You have. You do not wish to know how I became blind?”
