Bea’s stomach dropped.There wasn’t a world in which she could keep this secret from Nicholas.She’d thought about it endlessly.But telling him meant trusting him completely.With her safety.Her reputation.Her future.
“Oh, God.”She covered her face again and collapsed back into her chair, staring at the ceiling.“I’m doomed.”
“You’re not doomed,” Georgie said.“Not yet.”
“Yes, I am,” Bea insisted.“Nicholas is certain to be furious.He’ll feel tricked.Betrayed.Humiliated.”
“Well,” Georgie said slowly, “yes.”
Bea shot upright.“Georgie!”
“I’magreeingwith you,” Georgie said.“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“No,” Bea said miserably.“Tell me not to tell him.”
Poppy exchanged a knowing glance with Georgie.
Then Poppy asked softly, “Do you wish to not tell him?”
Bea opened her mouth.Then she closed it.Then she tried again.
“No,” she finally whispered.
Georgie softened.“Bea…”
“Iwantto tell him,” Bea said, voice cracking.“I want him to know me.The real me.The part of me that doesn’t bow and curtsy and allow men like Hargrave to define my worth.The part that fights.The part that doesn’t belong anywhere except behind a quill and a locked door.”Her throat tightened.“I want him to know her.”
Poppy’s face softened.“Because you want to marry him.”
“Because I—” Bea stopped, choking on the word.“Because Ifeelsomething.And I don’t want whatever it is to be built on a lie.”
Georgie curled her legs beneath her.“Then we’ve circled back to the start.You have two choices.”She held up one finger.“One, trust him.”
Poppy held up a second.“Two, never see him again.”
Bea’s breath hitched.
Never see him again.
Never hear his laugh.Never argue with him about policy.Never see his eyes soften the way they had last night.Never feel his breath on her throat or the way his hand slid up her thigh in the dark?—
She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.
“I don’t think I can stop seeing him,” she admitted.“And what would I tell Father?”
Poppy’s brows rose.“Well, then.”
“But I don’t know if I cantrusthim,” Bea whispered.
Georgie leaned forward.“That’s the problem, isn’t it?Loving anyone?—”
Bea inhaled sharply.Loving.She said nothing.
Georgie went on, untroubled by the silence.“Trusting anyone means handing them a knife and hoping they decide not to cut you with it.”
Bea stared at her.
“And it sounds as if you’ve already given him the knife,” Georgie said softly.“Whether or not you meant to.”
