“—are none of your business, my lady, but yes, some are from Waterloo and some from the good Mr.Peabody’s attentions.”He took her firmly but gently by the elbow and guided her to the stairs.
“I think we can dispense with tomorrow.One day’s rest will clear your mind.”He put a finger to her mouth to silence her when she would have protested.“No,” he whispered, fascinated by the sensual spot where his finger lingered.“Enough Georgiana.”
He felt a slow smile curl under his finger when she heard the sound of her name.
“Very well, Andrew” she whispered back.
His boundaries had already slipped.He had agreed that she could come to him just for the pleasure of seeing her seated at his writing table, surrounded by his books, warmed by the sun through his diamond-paned windows.Now she called him Andrew.He would regret it.This road led to nothing but trouble.
* * *
Georgiana skipped lightlytoward her waiting conveyance.Even Eunice, silent as always, couldn’t lower her mood.Joy bubbled up.Nottomorrow, but soon they would talk about the past.
Abigail Clarke stepped from her door directly across from Andrew’s and cast a shadow like a great black bird across Georgiana’s path.Georgiana met her once or twice when Mrs.Potter or Molly Harding had invited her to tea with Cambridge wives.She didn’t care for her.
“Good day, Lady Georgiana.Visiting our Mr.Mallet, I see.”The woman’s eyes were avid but not kind.Unmarried women didn’t visit men’s homes.They both knew it, no matter how Mrs.Potter tried to wrap it up in fine linen.
“Certainly, Mrs.Clarke.We study together.He is one of the best tutors in Cambridge, aside from the Fellows themselves, of course.”
“Study.Of course.I heard something of your interest in his scholarship.”She dragged out the last word suggestively while she looked Eunice over as if to evaluate her worth as a chaperone.Poor Eunice shrunk even more.
Georgiana lost patience with her.She drew herself up, chin high, for a set down.You don’t question a Duke’s daughter, Madame.“Good day, Mrs.Clarke.I must be on my way.”She left, but she would be back.The neighbors could make of it what they would.
Andrew’s “one day’s rest” turned to four, however, when Georgiana’s own weakness overcame her on schedule.She sent a message round and told Andrew she would be delayed until Monday.To her delight, she felt much like her own self by Sunday.Mr.Peabody’s regime of beef broth, large helpings of dark green vegetables, and water from a particular iron-rich spring ordered down from Yorkshire appeared to be working.
A missive delivered on Sunday afternoon crushed her buoyant mood.
Lady Georgiana,
I regret I will be unable to keep our appointment tomorrow or for some days to come.I am indisposed.
I understand we have an agreement and will keep the bargain when circumstances permit.
Yours respectfully,
A.Mallet
Shaky writing snakedacross the paper in uneven lines.She reread them.The fear that he might relapse, which had lapped over her the entire previous week, struck her like a tidal wave.Immediate disappointment turned quickly to alarm.
She wrote two messages in rapid fire succession.The first, to Mr.Peabody, described his patient’s failure to heal.It offered him three times his normal fee to attend Mr.Mallet at his own house as quickly as may be possible.She hesitated over the signature.Finally, she scribbled, “Lady Georgiana Hayden, Mr.Mallet’s neighbor.”Close enough.
The second message, to Harley, proved to be more difficult.She stopped mid-sentence, reread her words, and crumpled it.With the message to Mr.Peabody in her reticule, she called for her carriage and set out for Little Saint Mary’s Lane.
