Tony’s face softened, and he took one of her hands. “That’s only what I’ve been told.”
“Of course I needed someone,” Georgie insisted, her voice catching. “I could have used someone at any given time! But that doesn’t mean I was going to wallow about it. I had to get on with life, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” he replied, squeezing her hand hard. “And you have, Georgie.”
She could barely hear him over her own thoughts. “I don’t mean to be unpleasant,” she admitted roughly. “I didn’t mean to make anybody hate me.”
Tony shook his head and took her face in his hands. “Look at me, Georgie. Nobody hates you.”
The firmness in his tone made her eyes shift to his. “No?”
“No,” he repeated. “They just don’t understand.”
Georgie tried to nod and managed a weak swallow. “They might if they tried. As you do.” She inhaled a shaking breath, the feeling of his hands on her cheeks somehow both weakening and strengthening her. “Help me, will you, Tony? Help me not be so unlikable to them.”
He stared at her for a long moment, no sound or breath between them. And then his lips were on hers.
She couldn’t gasp, couldn’t move, could barely think her own name. His kiss consumed every thought and sensation, keeping her grounded yet making her soar. His mouth was soft and sweet, gentle in his caress, and far too soon, it was gone from hers.
Georgie blinked at him stupidly, watching him stare back at her, feeling her face flush. “You kissed me.”
“I did,” he murmured, keeping just as still as she was, his hands still on her face.
Georgie swallowed once. “Why?”
He wet his lips quickly. “It… seemed appropriate.”
That made her smile a little. “I thought it was a bit bold.”
There was a faint shake of his head. “It wasn’t.”
She tried to find some semblance of outrage, however weak. “You took a liberty.”
“Georgie…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t panic…” he murmured slowly, “but I’m going to kiss you again.”
A sigh of relief escaped her, and she nodded weakly.
This time she kissed him back.
She’d never kissed anyone before, and suddenly it was one of her chief regrets in life. But kissing anyone else couldn’t possibly be the same as kissing Tony. His attention was entirely focused on her, his lips caressing hers with an eager gentleness that stole her breath. She gripped at his coat with her fingers, afraid to do anything else, but desperate to cling to him somehow. She hadn’t even known she wanted him to kiss her until he had done so, and now she only wanted more.
More kisses. More caresses. More him.
More.
He broke off and chuckled softly, touching his brow to hers, one of his thumbs grazing her cheek. “Georgie…”
She reached up to grasp his wrist, smiling breathlessly. “Well…”
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he confessed, brushing his nose against hers.
Georgie dipped her chin shyly. “I did too. I just didn’t know it.”
They shared a wild grin. Then Georgie’s eyes widened, and her heart dropped to her stomach. “We can’t tell anybody about this.”
Tony reared back, shaking his head almost violently. “Good heavens, no.” He made a quick face. “Not that I’m regretting it, because I’m really not…”
“Charlotte would be beside herself,” Georgie overrode, horror setting in.
Tony gaped for a moment. “Oh, that’s a terrifying thought…”
Georgie nodded quickly. “We need to get back inside. Now.”
They rose and hurried towards the house without speaking, though she was now painfully aware of his hold on her arm. Those fingers had cradled her face so tenderly, had stroked her skin in featherlight caresses, had held her…
“Georgie.”
“Hmm?”
Tony pulled her to a stop and kissed her a third time, this one quick and hard. Then he grinned at her without reserve. “I just needed to get one more in.”
Georgie looked up at him in disbelief, then laughed at them both. “Oh, we’re in trouble. What am I going to tell them? They know we we’re out here.”
“I’ve got something,” he said, holding out his arm. “It will distract everyone sufficiently and happens to be true.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s a young woman I need you all to see. A replacement for Emma, if you will. She’s a widow just recently come to London…”
Chapter Twelve
Some secrets must be shared with others for the good of all involved. Aid can be given, as well as advice; experience shared may save a world of heartache; truth confessed may enlighten minds; guilt expressed may soon be wiped away. But there are some secrets that absolutely, positively, irrefutably must remain untold.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 19 March 1817
“You did what?”
“Shh! Do you want the entire street to know?”
“I just… You never said anything… Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Georgie…”
“Izzy. She’s a woman in need, why shouldn’t we offer ourselves to her?”
Izzy looked unconvinced, wincing in what had to be a painful manner. “She’s not a spinster, Georgie.”
Georgie stared at her cousin for a long moment as the carriage rocked slightly. “Who are you and what have you done with my nice cousin?”
Somehow Izzy’s wince grew briefly, but then her face relaxed completely. “You’re right, I know you’re right. But I didn’t think we were taking on any new girls for the group.”
“Perhaps we won’t.” Georgie shrugged one shoulder and plucked at her bonnet ribbons, retying them quickly. “It may be that Lady Edith wouldn’t suit. But we can still befriend her, can we not?”
Izzy softened somehow further still. “Of course, we can. The poor dear, I couldn’t imagine coming to London without a husband once I’d had one. How long has she been a widow?”
Georgie glanced out of the window as they rolled on into Cheapside. “Tony didn’t say.”
There was silence in their carriage, and Georgie reluctantly looked over at her cousin, who watched her with a speculative look.
“What?” Georgie demanded, practically begging her cheeks to remain devoid of any telling color.
“Tony said we should?” Izzy was very firmly not smiling as she spoke, which seemed a miracle. “Tony is making recommendations for our membership, is he?”
“Yes…” she replied slowly. Was the idea really so foreign? Tony had been of great help to them, had livened them all and supported them, and never seemed to mind their distinctly feminine topics of conversation. He had been nothing but kind and respectful and saw to their welfare more often than not. Why shouldn’t he make recommendations about potential members of their group?
Izzy appeared unconvinced, watching Georgie carefully. “I find that hard to believe.”
“That Tony could make a recommendation that I would take?” Georgie asked, the beginnings of irritation setting in.
Her cousin grinned briefly. “Well, there is that. The two of you fight like a pair of misbehaving siblings.”
Guilt flared within Georgie and began to gnaw at her stomach. They did fight often, and quite well, purely for the sport of it, but now…
Now…
“But no,” Izzy went on, blissfully ignorant of Georgie’s torment. “I was speaking more of Tony’s knowing anybody we should consider. He doesn’t know anybody, does he?”
Swallowing was a trifle difficult, but somehow Georgie managed. “He knows more than he used to,” she reminded her cousin. “We’ve introduced him to a great number of people.”
In fact, Georgie was regretting that she had taken such an interest in expanding his social circles. It had only put him in closer proximity to her, which had undoubtedly
led to her having a more favorable impression of him than she ought to have, and, ultimately, for his opinion of her to be too warm in return. He couldn’t possibly be as inclined towards her as he seemed to be two nights ago, it was pure folly.
No one had ever been interested in Georgie in that way, and as she was only growing older and more set in her ways, it was not likely to change now.
She was used to it by now. If anything had changed… If he really was… Well, that would have been the most terrifying prospect she could have imagined, and one for which she had absolutely no frame of reference. She would never be able to cope properly and would likely never be at ease again.
This would all play out soon enough, and they could get back to their normal way of living.
“But we know those people, too!” Izzy exclaimed, bringing her back to topic. “And we didn’t know anyone that we were considering bringing into the group, did we?” Her gaze sharpened on Georgie then. “Did you?”
“Did I what?” Georgie asked roughly, wishing they would arrive already. She hadn’t thought Cheapside so very large, nor that Lady Edith would be so difficult to track down. This was all supposed to have been very simple and straightforward, and her cousin was certainly not supposed to be interrogating her as they went along.
Izzy seemed rather put out by Georgie’s response, and huffed. “Did you know somebody that you had been considering and didn’t tell us?”
Georgie shook her head quickly. “No, not at all.”
“Then how did Tony?” Izzy demanded. “And why did he tell you and not the rest of us? We meet together all the time, and he never said a word.”
“Tony has other friends,” Georgie reminded her with more patience than she thought she could manage. “From before he came to London. As I understand it, one of those friends, a Lieutenant Henshaw, informed him of Lady Edith’s situation and that she was just recently come to London. Tony thought she could use some support and acquaintances to aid her in settling here, so he brought it to our attention.”
“Your attention. Not ours.” Izzy folded her hands and gave Georgie a knowing look that frightened Georgie somewhat. “Since when do you accept Tony’s word so easily?”
When? Georgie almost laughed. Since he had kissed her senseless. Since he had become the sight her eyes longed to see. Since he had defended her, stood by her, respected her more than any other person had. Since he had proven himself her equal in wit and banter, and somehow was still the best of men.
She settled for shrugging one shoulder instead of offering a confession that would have startled her cousin. “He has proven himself, don’t you think? He’s been a good friend to each of us and has not given us a moment’s cause for alarm.”
“True…” Izzy said slowly, her brow furrowing.
“He would have told the rest of you,” Georgie assured her, reaching over to take her hand, “but he had been busy investigating what the gossips were saying about us and making worthwhile connections all last week, and this information only just came to him. We have Writing Day at our next gathering, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to share it then. Last night at the ball, he took the opportunity to share his report with me and spoke of Lady Edith then.”
Izzy sighed heavily and nodded. “Very well, I concede that he had good reason for sharing it with you. After all, you are our fearless leader…”
Georgie broke out into a relieved smile, satisfied that her concocted explanation was taking root. It was reasonable to assume that those had been his reasons, even if it were not entirely true.
She gave a mock shudder of revulsion. “I am not. Don’t call me that.”
Izzy returned her smile easily. “I rather think you are. You are fearless, and you are our leader. We can all see it, why can’t you?”
“I never wanted to be the leader,” Georgie answered, looking out of the window once more. “There’s nothing to lead.”
“Georgie, what’s wrong?”
Izzy’s tender tone, which she ought to have been quite accustomed to, seemed to drive tears into her eyes. It was all she could do to keep them contained, and somehow manage to smile, still keeping her face firmly set towards the window. “Nothing, Izzy. I’m only having one of my melancholy spells. It’ll fade once we meet Lady Edith. I have no doubt she will be perfectly agreeable.”
“Georgie, you haven’t had one of your melancholy spells since we started the Spinsters.” Izzy reached forward and took her hands, squeezing gently. “What is really the matter?”
Georgie chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, then, once she was sure any trace of tears was gone, turned to face Izzy. “Do you ever wonder if this is it for us?” she asked with the sort of raw honesty she usually avoided.
Except, of late, with Tony.
She couldn’t think what that meant, not while she was filled with this turmoil and daydreaming about their kisses.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “What if we don’t marry, Izzy? What will we do with ourselves? My mother will undoubtedly cast me out, and I cannot impose upon your mother forever. I will be a burden to my father until his dying day, and then my burden will be passed to Thomas, and while he is fond of me, I cannot see him being overly generous with my income. Charlotte and Grace need not worry, they have a fortune entirely their own. I barely have enough to be admitted into Society. What if this is it?”
Izzy’s eyes were wide, no doubt confused as to what had driven Georgie to express such extremism about their futures. Georgie had always taken care to move forward without showing any fear or apprehension about their situation, as she was desperate to avoid being put in the same category as other spinsters who constantly bemoaned their fate. She would be a different sort of spinster, set a new tone for the name, and do something with her life.
Only she hadn’t.
And still she cried over the neglect she’d felt in her life. The dreams she’d let fade. The ache that never seemed to subside.
She was exactly like the other spinsters.
She only hid it better.
And now Izzy knew that.
“Forgive me,” Georgie murmured, sliding her hands from Izzy’s grasp, lowering her eyes to them. “It was a foolish question, forget I said anything.”
“I cannot tell you,” Izzy suddenly said, keeping her voice low, “how delighted I am to hear you say that.”
Georgie jerked her head up to give Izzy a bewildered look. “You what?”
Izzy smiled a breathless, very relieved grin. “Oh, Georgie, I had no idea, but I can tell you that I have those exact same fears on a regular basis. Not for you, but for me. I have even less to offer than you.”
Georgie gave her as derisive a look as she could while still feeling that she wanted to hug her tightly. “You have more to offer than me, Izzy. People actually like you, and that includes men. You have a kind heart and a sweet temper, and there’s still an air of liveliness about you.” She snorted and spread her hands slightly to indicate herself. “I am dull, sharp-tongued, and rather cynical.”
“Oh, stop,” Izzy laughed. “You put on at least half of that for show, and you know it.”
Georgie shrugged again, not seeing the need to explain what her cousin already knew. She might not have known why Georgie did it, but she didn’t need to know that either.
“So, what will we do?” Izzy went on, smiling so widely it seemed as though it might touch the edges of her bonnet. “We’ll get a cottage in Oxfordshire with the income our fathers set for us, and live quietly within our means, saving everything we can and teaching all of the children in the village how to write clearly and succinctly.”
The thought made Georgie laugh aloud. She doubted she would have much more patience with children than she had with people her own age, but it was certainly within the realm of possibility.
“Or…” Izzy tilted her head from side to side as if considering options, “we go to work at a finishing school and work our way up to becoming headmistresses. We are very accomplish
ed, surely someone would want to hire us.”
“And who would give me a reference?” Georgie asked with another laugh.
Izzy smiled with an impish glint in her eye. “Tony. And you know he would do it.”
Georgie’s desire to laugh faded and her smile became forced. Would he? There was no way to know what Tony would do anymore, considering he now apparently enjoyed kissing her. Would he have strong opinions about her leading a reclusive life?
Probably.
Would she take that into account?
Probably.
Because she enjoyed kissing him as well, and she couldn’t help feeling anticipation to do it again.
“Lord Sterling might,” Izzy rambled, completely missing Georgie’s reaction yet again. “Lady Sterling. Lady Hetty…”
The carriage pulled to a stop, and Georgie breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, we’ve arrived,” she said quickly, not bothering to wait for the servant to help with the door. She pushed it open and climbed down on her own, looking up at the rather simple edifice before her.
“You did send a card or something, right?” Izzy asked as she disembarked. “Lady Edith might prefer propriety.”
“I sent both of ours,” Georgie assured her, brushing off her dress. “And a note. She should be expecting us.”
“Should be?” Izzy squawked. “Should be?”
Georgie strode forward and rang the bell, stepping back just as Izzy reached her side.
“Sometimes, Georgie Allen,” Izzy muttered, “you are simply too much.”
Georgie nodded once. “Thank you.”
The aged black door swung open and a bald, bearded man of some stature answered. “Yes?”
Georgie bit back a laugh and handed her card to him. “Miss Allen and Miss Lambert to see…”
“Herself’s expectin’ ye,” he growled in a thick Scottish brogue as he stepped back to let them in. He was dressed as a butler, though he hardly seemed the part, and the clothing seemed a little tight in places. But he bore the token somber, if glowering, expression a butler would, so he must have been qualified.
The Merry Lives of Spinsters Page 17
