ChapterTwenty-Five
Georgiana leaned against the crisp linens of her narrow bed.The candles burned low when she finally finished reading and ran her hands along the gilt edges of the pages.She read the gold letters on the cover one more time in the sputtering candlelight,Poetry by the Female Authors of Ancient Greece.Her book.Her work.Truly.Andrew hadn’t lied.
A small smile teased the edges of her mouth.
Every word in every verse, showcased in Mr.Bailey’s exquisite print face, was the same carefully honed translation she had completed.The light of their conversations had finally given her what she needed to bring years of struggle to perfect flower.The choice of words, even Nossis’s roses, was left exactly as she had decided it would be.
She recognized the commentary at once.They were her notes, his thoughts, and their discussions tied together with delicately crafted words that sounded like her own voice.The editor, Andrew, made his influence invisible, yet the words reflected their combined wisdom.She could no longer tell where she left off and Andrew began.
Georgiana read the title page out loud to the silent room.“An English Lady of Scholarship.”Her graceful finger ran over the words.“Lady of Scholarship.”Years of her life captured in three words.“Scholarship.”She expected to be filled with contentment.She was not.
Better by far to be “scholar” than “eccentric” or “oddity.”Better even than “Lady of Intelligence and Refinement,” but she feared that that was how her entire life would now be defined.
She read on.“With the assistance of A.Mallet, gentleman scholar of Cambridge.”Without Andrew her work would be a paltry collection of half-baked notes and schoolboy translations, a private eccentricity.Without Andrew, she would still sit alone in Helsington’s cold rooms, seeking work to fill her days and hours.
Just as she did now.
The last candle finally sputtered out.She sat alone in the dark.What a fool I’ve been!The book was his gift to her, a labor of love, and the true product of collaboration.It had been their gift to each other, just as making love was a gift to each other.She gave him pleasure.This afternoon she could see his pleasure, and the giving of it brought her tears of joy.She wondered if it was the same for him.
Georgiana slipped deeper under the covers, but sleep eluded her.She turned once and then again, both agitated by and fixated with the thought that Andrew took joy in her pleasure.
Gift and giver, neither was complete without the other.He had given her the book as a gift and with it an even greater gift.He had given her a choice.He presented her with the choice of whether they would sell their book or not.He would allow her the freedom to suppress the work that was as much his as hers.
She ought to be elated, but the quiet pleasure she felt left no real contentment.He also offered her another choice, a harder bargain.He offered her his very self, but he would accept no less from her.Gift and giver, he demanded both.He wanted her life, but he wanted to give her his in return.
Only a fool would spurn the pleasure he gave; only a fool would push away the promise of love and joy, only a fool would?—
Georgiana wasn’t a fool.She sat bolt upright in the dark, pushed back the covers, and leapt from the bed.
The cold floor brought her to her senses.She couldn’t run off to his house this time, notwith Jamie in residence.She couldn’t be sure of her welcome.She feared she may have waited too long.She didn’t know if his offer would still be open.For both of their sakes, it must be.
Georgiana thought feverishly.Memories of their fierce, frantic passion flooded her.He wanted her that much was certain.“I don’t make love to business partners.”He wouldn’t go back to the way things were before, but he hadn’t proposed again.“You have to decide,” he had said.He wouldn’t ask again; she would have to do it.
Shivering in the cold dark of her bedroom, she could almost feel his breath on her neck as it had been when he saw her to the door that afternoon.
* * *
“Oh, it’s you, is it?”Harley’s grin undermined his attempt at severity.Her best glare, calculated to set down all encroachment, caused the grin to spread more widely.“Best come in and join them then.”Traffic to old Mr.Mallet’s house had been heavy.
Breathe deeply!Georgiana followed her own advice, took a deep breath, and followed him in.She prepared herself for Jamie’s curiosity.There would be more where it came from.
“The Lady Georgiana Hayden.”Harley’s voice did a canny imitation of Chambers.He obviously enjoyed this.
Four gentlemen rose to their feet and bowed in varying degrees of familiarity and respect.She took in the presence of Geoff Dunning, but her attention was diverted by a copy ofFemale Authors of Ancient Greeceopen on the rough brown table in front of a total stranger.
She hoped she would find Andrew alone, hoped Jamie would have taken himself off to find her brother.She had been certain that she had the only copy of the book.Her eyes made that a lie.Andrew showed the book to Dunning and some stranger.The wretch!
Andrew flashed a pained look her way and attempted to speak.“Lady Georgiana, may I present John Bailey.You know Dunning, of course,” he croaked in a cracked voice.“Bailey is?—
“Honored to make your acquaintance.”The little man beamed at her.“Mr.Mallet and I were just discussing this wonderful work and the unfortunate accident.I have come to offer my apologies.”
Apologies?Whatever for, and what is he doing with my book?Wonderful!He found it wonderful?Her head spun; she sat down carefully, afraid she might fall.“I’m sorry, I—my book Mr.Bailey?How do you have my book?”
“Sorry, sorry.That’s the point, isn’t it?I need to apologize.”
“Bailey is the printer, Georgiana.”She remembered.Five hundred copies in Mr.Bailey’s warehouse.
“My clerk, my lady, misunderstood.He thought we held the copies back to gauge the interest.”
