Page 77

Flopping down beside her, Dash heaved a great sigh, crossing his paws on the freshly turned soil. He had become a quiet, constant companion, shadowing her steps with a loyalty that filled an emptiness Roxina had not even acknowledged existed until he filled it.

Roxina shifted on her heels, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she worked another weed loose and considered Matilda’s letter again.

Matilda wasn’t wrong about Robyn and Georgine.

Sparks didn’t fly that hot and often unless something sizzled beneath the surface.

Roxina had witnessed it firsthand—Georgine, eyes flashing, chin lifted in defiance, and Robyn, his usual easy-going, carefree manner, hardening into something sharp whenever she baited him.

And it wasn’t like Georgine to taunt, raise a fuss, or throw a spoke into the wheel.

Would either Aubriella or Roxina?

Absolutely.

But not steady-as-an-eight-day-clock Georgine. She had never been one to fly into a pelter or been given to miff-maffs.

Matilda said it seemed like Robyn and Georgine couldn’t help themselves. The slightest provocation sparked a verbal battle of wits between them.

And yet…

There had been that moment at the Christmas house party last year.

The one Georgine had likely forgotten, but Roxina had seen the fleeting but unmistakable exchange. Had witnessed the sudden, tension-filled hush when Robyn and Georgine’s disagreement ended too abruptly.

The way Robyn had glanced at Georgine’s lips before dragging his attention away.

Georgine might not yet know it, but something simmered between her and Robyn, and it was only a matter of time before the bubbling rattled the lid loose and the contents boiled over.

Roxina had half a mind to write Matilda and say as much, though she suspected her friend had already come to the same conclusion.

Matilda also mentioned that Aubriella and Claire had called at Fernleigh House twice since the garden debacle. They had written Roxina too, their messages full of warm inquiries. She had yet to respond, though foolscap lay atop the small writing secretary addressed to each.

What would Roxina say?

I’m a coward.

I’m so unsure of my feelings that I could not face you or Shelby.

I am overcome with guilt for endangering the lives of those I love the most.

Other than Mrs. Beale, no one had called on Roxina in Blackheath.

Though not unexpected, that stung more than it ought to.

Did her friends sense Roxina needed time alone to sort through whatever had her at sixes and sevens?

Or had they taken offense at her abruptly departing without saying farewell?

Surely, Aubriella, Georgine, Matilda, and Claire understood.

Roxina raked the earth before her, unwilling to let the latter thought take root.

Sighing, she pointedly turned her thoughts elsewhere.

The Ladies of Opportunity weekly meetings had paused since that dreadful afternoon in the garden, but Aubriella had suggested the society resume gathering next week. After all, they had a business to oversee, and women relied upon the organization.

Naturally, Georgine would not attend, but Matilda would.