He is the most infuriating man!
She put her hands over her face, afraid that the champagne still held something of a hold over her. On her bedside table was a bowl of water for washing. She plunged her head into it, gasping from the chill. But it seemed to help clear the fuzziness that she had not even realised was present in her mind still.
She flicked her hair back, smoothing the water from it. Then she spotted the plain white piece of folded paper beside the bowl. It had been spattered with drops of water, but she saw her name on it. Frowning, she unfolded it.
“Your Grace, Tom returned today and told me that he took Lady Amelia to a house in Bethnal Green. He was instructed to remain at an inn for two days before returning to Silverton. The house is called Elm Bank and lies on the Bishop’s Road.
Mrs. Pewter”
Georgia gaped at the note, perplexed. Tom hadn’t been ordered to take Amelia to a sanatorium by the sea at all. He had taken her to a house on the north-eastern edge of London.
Then told to wait at an inn. To make the rest of the household think that his journey had been longer than it actually was?
The blatant subterfuge sent a chill down Georgia’s spine. It contributed to a physical chill that was setting in due to her wet hair on top of the soaking she’d received a few hours before. She changed out of her dress and her underclothes, leaving all in the dressing room in a wicker woven box for collection by Molly for laundering. Naked, she opened her wardrobe for a change.
There was not a great deal of choice. The range of clothes she had been permitted at Silverton was hardly wide-ranging. She examined the three plain, sturdy dresses that she owned and felt a touch of envy for other women who took their fine gowns for granted. She had one dress suitable for social occasions, and that was now lying in her laundry box and might never be the same again.
The door opened abruptly, and Keaton strode into the room. Georgia’s instinctive reaction was to scream and grab a dress from the wardrobe, holding it over her nakedness.
“Good God! What is the matter!” he demanded.
“You did not knock!” she exclaimed, “I am… undressed.”
Keaton raised an eyebrow. “And I am blind. I would not have known you were undressed if you did not tell me.”
Georgia blushed and slowly lowered the dress. It still did not feel right to be naked so close to him. He could reach out and touch her. Perhaps it did not feel wrong, so to speak, either, just… vulnerable. She took a deep breath, their earlier intimacy returning to her mind in glorious detail. Her blushes deepened. Her breathing was ragged, and it did not help that she knew he would hear it and draw conclusions.
“That is an excellent point...” she whispered. “I acted out of instinct. This is a novel way of living, and I am still getting used to it.”
There was something intensely exciting about standing in front of Keaton in full nudity, even knowing that he could not see her.
He can imagine it, though. I told him I was undressed, and now he will be picturing that state. Picturing my body. Recalling the feel of it...
“There is a great deal of novelty in these times that we find ourselves in,” Keaton began diplomatically, “and I have not handled it as well as I might. That is what I wished to discuss with you. But I will leave you to dress first.”
He strode out of the dressing room, and Georgia heard him taking a seat in the sitting room that served as the anteroom for her suite. She held the dress close to her body. Then, a truly wanton and reckless thought entered her mind. She swallowed, mouth going dry. With swift, decisive movements, she rustled the dress as though she were hurriedly dressing. Then, she let it fall.
Heart pounding, she walked into the sitting room, still naked.
My list of freedoms to be experienced did not include being naked about the house, but I think the list must be appended.
Keaton was tending the fire, adding a log and then using the bellows beside the fireplace to encourage the flames. He tested his success with a hand held up before the licking flames. As she entered the room, he straightened and took a seat on a chaise to one side of the fireplace.
“I felt the room was cold. I will have a word with Rutherford about keeping living quarters to an acceptable temperature.”
Georgia sat at the other end of the chaise, scarcely daring to believe her daring.
“Do not berate him on my account. He is unused to these rooms being occupied, and old habits die hard.”
“I expect new habits to be learned quickly.”
Georgia forced a laugh, trying to seem normal. She shifted her position, turning more towards Keaton. She felt that he must be able to hear her breathing, that she was panting raggedly. Or hear her thundering heartbeat.
Keaton frowned, cocking his head, and Georgia froze. All he had to do was lean across the intervening space, and he would know all.
He already knows all. He has touched me, explored me, and savored me.
“You wanted to discuss our…novelliving arrangements,” Georgia began.
