“The lady and I were discussing the classics.”Dunning said gruffly as they all sat down.
Andrew accepted some soup.“This looks delightful.Thank you.”He smiled at the cook who beamed at the approval.
He always graced her father’s house with courtesy to the highborn and the low.She watched him stir the soup but noticed that he wasn’t eating it.
“We were deep into Socrates before you arrived.”Dunning motioned toward Georgiana with a smile that was rather like the approval the owner of a particularly talented spaniel might give his pet.“Did you know Lady Georgiana has actually read a little in Greek?”
Dunning’s comment coaxed a smile from Andrew who looked at her, shrewd amusement lurking under hooded lids.“I heard something of the sort.”His lips actually twitched.Georgiana covered her own amusement with a napkin.
Andrew himself had given her a copy of Plato’sDialoguesand coached her through her struggles to read it.He aided and abetted her in her secret pleasure, hid it from her friends and family, and slipped her texts and textbooks during her first three Seasons.He treated it as a game—a defiant schoolboy game—his way of tweaking her father’s nose.
“I think that you read theDialogues of Socratesmany years ago.Do I remember correctly, Lady Georgiana?”His eyes bored into her, amusement gone.
“It began then.I haven’t changed.”Not as you have changed.She held his gaze, watching the lines deep in the corners of his black eyes and the pain in their dark depths.She wondered now if she had ever understood him or his motivation.
He looked away first and pretended to eat his soup.
Opportunity to mention her work lay open before her, but she couldn’t force the words out.She wished instead to ask,Is that all you wanted to do—thwart my father?She stared at the table, struck dumb, while the cook cleared away the soup course.
“Georgiana translates poetry, also, don’t you, my dear.”Georgiana blinked at the sudden return to reality.Mrs.Potter’s puzzled expression urged her on.
“Yes, I?—”
“Andrew translates also.”Dunning interrupted suddenly, his voice tight.She couldn’t tell if concern for Andrew caused it or discomfort with discussion of her work.“I brought him work from Wallace Selby the other day.Are you making a start at it, Mallet?”
“No energy for it, Dunning.Not yet.”She could see that he played with his food.Merciful heavens!His hands are shaking.Why on earth did he come if he is ill?
Andrew looked up and caught her gaze.“What conclusions did you come to regarding Socrates?”
Socrates got them through the fish course, andEmma, the most recent work by the anonymous author ofPride and Prejudicegot them through the cheese.Dunning’s opinions regarding the lady author surprised Georgiana.He didn’t dismiss her.He thought the bite of her satire quite sharp.
“I agree, Mr.Dunning, but the conclusions are a bit too tidy, don’t you agree?”Georgiana found that the happy conclusions of each of the woman’s books left her disappointed with her own fate.They depressed her.
“Lady Georgiana, never say you are unromantic!”
“One might wish for such a conclusion, Mr.Dunning, but in real life it is rarely so, don’t you agree?”Her words were for Dunning, but her eyes were on Andrew.
He didn’t look back.He responded directly to Dunning in his deep, rich voice.“Lady Georgiana is correct to a point, Geoff.One rarely gets what one wants in life.Duty, honor, responsibility to one’s parents, one’s station in life all stand in the way.”
Georgiana wished he hadn’t been so quick to agree.
“Quite the point of the lady’s works, I think.Passion leads her lesser characters astray, but the admirable ones, motivated by logic and duty, win happiness in the end.It is often their reward.She is an admirable author,” Dunning insisted.
“As I said, Mr.Dunning, life isn’t that tidy.”
“Utter poppycock!”Mrs.Potter drew all eyes with her vehement outburst.“I enjoyed fifty-six happy years with my Jonah in spite of family displeasure at the beginning.We found a way.”
Andrew smiled, sad-eyed.“Life isn’t always that simple.”
“Who said my life was simple, young man?”The old woman waved a hand, and a light pudding appeared on the table.
“Georgiana, about your work—” the old woman began.Mrs.Potter’s determination to recruit Andrew in Georgiana’s service pushed ahead of Georgiana’s own.
“What of it, Mrs.Potter?”
“Can you describe it for these gentlemen?”
Georgiana felt shy in Dunning’s presence.She couldn’t afford to let the opportunity pass, however.The work was what mattered.
