I wondered if he’d come inside. Sit down, like he usually did. Perhaps pour himself a drink and watch the fire crackle and burn.
He’d been angry with me earlier tonight, but I dared not ask why. I dared not wonder whathewas thinking.
So I stayed silent. In a moment, I’d get up from the floor. I’d reach for my book. I’d bid him good night.
In a moment.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Marlow
I could not bear the silence.
Watching Georgiana with Lord Reynolds had been utter purgatory. I’d taken a tone with her, which I’d immediately regretted. But here we were, alone in the one spot where I felt more myself than I had in years, and I could not speak the words that might make a difference.
Because I wasn’t sure they would.
Cleo would smell like her tonight, tomorrow, I hoped forever.
I wouldn’t mind falling asleep to it. I was already miserable.
I truly hadn’t intended on seeing her in here. The hour was well past midnight. I should collect Cleo as I’d planned and retire for the night. I shouldn’t tarry.
But, deuces, ImissedGeorgiana.
And she wasn’t saying anything.
Perhaps she hadn’t missed me at all. Perhaps she’d enjoyed Reynolds’s company so much she’d already forgotten about me and our stolen nights here. Likely for the best.
The silence stretched out, and I could not bear it. Was she angry with me for what I’d said earlier?
I’d had a moment in the box. Lady Diana wanted more of my attention than I wanted to give—she wanted the whole of it—and with Reynolds breathing down my back, and Maggie making light of every deuced thing, I simply couldn’t hold it all in.
Georgiana had noticed right away. Only she’d read my misery as anxiety. How easily she’d encouraged me toward Lady Diana. As though I meant nothing to her. As though this past fortnight had meant nothing.
I hadn’t exactly been kind, and I regretted my tone. But couldn’t she at least have tried to look as miserable with Reynolds as I had felt with Lady Diana?
Was she pretending with him? Or with me?
I could ride for miles without stopping. I could endure endless hours of debate in Parliament. But this silence might truly kill me. I rubbed the back of my neck. If nothing else, I owed her this: “I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier. Spoken to you the way that I did.”
Her hand slowed down Cleo’s back, her eyes lowered. “I think I provoked you.”
“You were being kind. A good friend.”
Georgiana looked up. “Truly, I only want the best for you.”
My heart started a quicker pace. Gads, how I loved those eyes.
They lured me in, step by step, until I was hovering above her.
Silence.
She blinked. “Your mother showed me your old nurserythis morning. Pulled out your baby things. Adorable embroidery. She says your wife must have an accomplished hand, among other things.” She petted Cleo slowly, softly.
I watched her hand. Then her profile, which was as unreadable as Cleo’s sleeping face. I bent down and sat on the floor near the opposite leg of Cleo’s chair.
“Aren’t most women decent with a needle?”
