ChapterTwo
maidens of the river, who always walk with rosy feet…”
Georgiana frowned, picked up her pen, and tried again.
“…river maidens who—who what?”Andrew would know.
“Walk?Tread?Amble about?Ramble?”None sounded right to her.“And did they always do it?Did they do it continually?”
Georgiana ran her thumb over the black stains on her index finger.She succeeded in removing the stain no better than she succeeded in translating the fragments of poetry by a woman named Moero.Whether they walked or tread was the least of Georgiana’s problems anyway.She had precious little from this poet and no context to give it meaning.
Andrew would...She squashed the thought.The toad didn’t even acknowledge me at Groghan’s.What was it that made me believe he could help?
“Eunice, what do you think?”
“My lady?”Eunice Williams blinked up from her incessant stitching with the wide eyes of a frightened doe.She sat, as always, in the farthest corner of Georgiana’s upstairs sitting room, as far from her mistress’s writing desk as the dainty room allowed.
“Listen.‘Nymphs of Anigrus’—whatever or whoever that may be—‘river maidens who tiptoe with rosy feet these, these...’depths, I think.”
Eunice darted eyes left and right as if seeking a place to hide.“I...I...,” she stammered.
“Come, come Eunice.I know it is crude, but does any of it make sense to you?Rosy feet?Pink feet?What do you think?”
“I’m sure I don’t...”
Don’t have any sense?No, Eunice, you don’t.Andrew would know.He always understood.She could hear him say, “Close Lady Georgie.Accurate, but you might try...”He always had a suggestion.His schoolboy grin accompanied every word.Though two years her junior and only fifteen when he discovered her secret, he still beamed like a proud papa every time she solved a problem.
Georgiana allowed a deep sigh to escape her.Andrew had ignored her.First, he pretended he didn’t know her and then he sent no reply to a perfectly proper and perfectly innocent message.Had he changed so much?Drat the man.If he had replied I might have had an excuse to call on him.She pushed him out of her head again.
“Perhaps...that is,” Eunice stammered on.“Perhaps your little poem needs the attention of a scholar.”
Georgiana glared and watched the color drain from Eunice’s face.She knew that Eunice meant the attention of a man.Eunice ducked her head and applied herself to her endless needlework.
Georgiana tamped down her anger.Eunice might be little company and less help, but none of it was her fault.Custom drove Georgiana to accept their “companionship.”Poor Eunice was forced into it by economic necessity.
“Eunice,” Georgiana called, causing the woman to jump as if she feared a sudden attack.“Fetch Chambers and tea, the good China tea.”
Eunice scurried away, relief on every line of her face.
Chambers, austere in butler’s black, opened the door with a flourish fifteen minutes later.Eunice, who floated in behind the tea cart on a flutter of ruffles, asked in her reedy voice, “Shall I pour, my lady?”
“Yes, yes,” Georgiana said with an impatient wave toward the tray.She glanced up to see the butler backing toward the door.
“Chambers!”
“My lady?”He stopped at the door and stared at the wall behind Georgiana’s left shoulder.
“I wish to show you something.You had schooling, didn’t you?You have some Greek?”
“Greek, my lady?”he said through tight lips.“Of very little use in my current position, I fear, but yes.I studied as a schoolboy.”
Local vicar no doubt.Even a boy destined for service got that much—more than any girl, even a Duke’s daughter,she thought bitterly.
“Very well,” she said holding up a piece of parchment.“Take a look.”
He hesitated, eyes fixed on the wall.
“Come, come, man.It won’t bite.”
