Only then did she turn to eye the townhouse where her friends of the Ladies’ Literary Society of London convened, awaiting her arrival.
Her feet felt frozen in place, her mouth bone dry. The moment had come for her to lay her soul bare before her friends. Her best friends.
The idea terrified her.
Not only had she never told them of Teddy, but now, she must tell them she was living with the man as his wedded wife, which she most certainly was not. She must tell them how she’d tried to poison him, albeit in ignorance. And worst of all, she must ask them for advice on how to let him go.
Yes,thatwas the sticking point holding her in place on the curb. She had to set him free, which, at this point, would be akin to cutting out her own heart.
With a dull, rusty spoon.
Abruptly, the front door swung open. Gwen’s blonde headappeared, her face animated with a warm smile.
Next, Amelia leaned past Gwen to grin at Georgina.
And suddenly she did not feel nearly so awful. Her friends were here. They’d come, and now everything would be all right.
Staring at her, both of their faces fell.
“Oh, dear,” Amelia said to Gwen. “Dearest, I’m afraid your news might be a tad too late.”
“It would appear so,” Gwen replied.
Georgina glanced between the two women. “What news?”
Evidently neither heard her query. Without another word, the two hurried down the steps, each taking Georgina by an arm, and escorted her inside the townhouse.
After a hurried and joyful series of hellos, the Ladies’ Literary Society members took their respective seats in the drawing room, filled teacups in hand, with Lady Harriet, the club’s matriarch, presiding.
Someone had seen fit to arrange the drawing room’s armchairs and sofa into a semi-circle, as was their custom when they met in their usual arena, number 7 Dove Street, the home of Lady Harriet and Margaret.
The Ladies’ Literary Society was comprised of like-minded women of the modern age who shared an affinity for reading, learning, and discussing topics ranging from those considered acceptable for ladies to those deemed unfit for feminine consumption.
They also shared their secrets. All present here—which included the entirety of the Ladies’ Literary Society—knew of Georgina’s career as an authoress. They also knew of Amelia’s secret visit to the Black Widow of Whitehall to consult about her then-husband of six months, and of Gwen’s visit to same in order to acquire a husband.
Of course, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had more or less assured Gwenhernewly purchased husband was actually dead, which suited Gwen as she was not actually seeking a real, live husband. More, the pretense of one.
Mr. Devereux, however, wasn’t dead, as they all soon learned.
All’s well, and all that. Gwen and Mr. Devereux were blissfully in love and quite happily married as of little more than six months ago. Amelia, too, a bride of less than two years, was newly and happily wed.
And everyone knew Mrs. Nancy Floyd, the only other married member of their club, adored her husband.
Which begged the question: Why had the ladies agreed to abandon their homes and respective spouses to come on holiday without them?
Georgina was forced to conclude her friends wished to speak on a private matter—involving her and thenewsto which Amelia had alluded.
Had they somehow learned of her visit to the Lyon’s Den? She would soon find out.
Sipping her tea, she glanced about her, noticing for the first time that she had somehow been seated in the center of the semi-circle.
To her left, each in her own armchair, sat Mrs. Nancy Floyd, Miss Charlotte Hodges, and Margaret. To her immediate right, and seated with her on the sofa, was Gwen. The beautiful and willowy blonde was a recent transplant to London who hailed from the north. She was also Georgina’s editor and publisher in one—in short, her biggest supporter, and, Georgina would have to say, her closest friend.
Amelia, Lady Culver, perched on the edge of an armchair on Gwen’s other side. Her vivid blue gaze was glued on Georgina. Whenever Georgina’s eyes met hers, she smiled encouragingly.
Oh, dear.
“Let us begin,” Lady Harriet intoned in her calm, authoritative manner. “As most of you know, our holiday is something of an emergency meeting—”
