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 accomplished, 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.
Izzy whimpered in apprehension but took Georgie’s arm anyway. They proceeded into the dark house, the interior seeming to be dated at least a good hundred years, and yet without any of the grandeur of that era. And given the layer of dust on the currently empty sconces on the wall, without any of its cleanliness.
“Mind tha’ step,” the servant said brusquely. “Don’t need any turned ankles.”
They avoided it dutifully, then followed him into a small drawing room, which was much better cleaned than the corridor had been, and in surprisingly brighter colors. It was still rather old and faded, but far more pleasant than Georgie had expected.
“Herself’s comin’,” the servant grunted, giving the slightest bow ever known to man before leaving the room.
“Georgie…” Izzy whispered, pulling her arm tightly.
“Hush. It will be all right.”
Just then, a woman of moderate height and slight frame entered the room, startling them both with her beauty and her small smile, her dark hair neatly pulled back, green eyes sparkling. “Miss Allen, Miss Lambert,” she greeted, her brogue delightfully present in the soft tones. She curtseyed, then clasped her hands before her. “I hope you weren’t put off by Owen. He’s very fond of me, but not entirely trained as a butler. Or footman, for that matter, but he tends to serve as both.”
“Lady Edith,” Georgie said, stepping forward. “Thank you for letting us call. I know you’ve only just arrived…”
“Oh, it is my pleasure,” Lady Edith interrupted gently, gesturing for them both to sit, and doing so herself. She pulled a tartan shawl around her simple grey dress, smiling. “I don’t know a soul in London, and while we haven’t really opened the house fully yet, I felt I had to welcome you.” Her smile broadened briefly, which had to be a thing of perfection itself. “The tone of your note was rather convincing.”
“That would be Miss Allen’s way,” Izzy replied with a laugh. Then she sobered quickly. “But may we, from the bottom of our hearts, express our condolences on the loss of your husband, Lady Edith. We know you’re just out of mourning, so we’d hate to impose.”
Lady Edith tilted her head, her full bottom lip pulling as though she bit it. “I’m afraid, Miss Lambert, that the bottom of your heart is rather too far to go for those condolences. I didn’t go that far myself. But then, as you’ve no doubt heard, I was only married for about five minutes.” She shrugged a shoulder, again startling them both.
No hint of remorse, even the pretense of it, and nothing mournful about her. Yet she did not seem a vindictive sort, nor the kind that would wish ill on anyone. Aside from her honesty just then, she rather reminded Georgie of Prue, if Prue were a little less shy and a little more open.
She and Izzy looked at each other, then back at Lady Edith, who did not seem surprised by their confusion. But she made no efforts to explain herself and only dipped her chin. “Owen has gone to fetch a tea tray, so perhaps until he returns, you might tell me how you became aware of me? I have no great acquaintances here, and no one to recommend me.”
Izzy looked at Georgie expectantly, and Georgie tucked a resigned smile against her cheeks. “Actually, it’s a bit out of the ordinary, Lady Edith, for the person who recommended you doesn’t know you either.”
He’d kissed Georgie. Not once, not twice, but three times.
It was madness, it was absolute madness!
What was worse was that all he’d been able to think about since kissing Georgie was kissing her again.
Not that any of it had been unpleasant, or worthy of any sort of regret. Not in the least. In fact, it was probably the sanest, truest thing he’d ever done in his life.
What was mad was how consumed he suddenly was by the thought of her. Georgie. Everything she said and did, everything about her was now chief in his thoughts. Moment after moment of their association seemed to be forefront in his mind, and he was so distracted by it that he was perfectly useless. Sleep had been absolutely uprooted and disturbed by thoughts of her, by dreams and imagining future occasions with her. He was utterly exhausted, practically delirious, but not entirely aware of any of it, he was so delighted.
Not that anyone would know. Tony had determined he was not safe around those who knew him well enough to notice and inquire, and so had spent the day before cooped up in his apartments. Rollins thought he was ill, and then thought he might actually have gone mad, so he was vastly relieved to have Tony leave the place today.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with himself, but a long walk about London would do for a start.
Hyde Park was more crowded today than it had been when he had walked with Georgie, but as he still did not know many people, he was not concerned with that. Nobody would care that he was in Hyde Park today without direction or purpose. No one would be stopping to speak to him or ask him questions, and everybody would go about their merry way without noticing him at all.
“Tony!”
Perhaps it would have been better for him to go for a ride out of London and feel the fresh countryside fill his senses. It would have given him more time to think and process, and there would be less need to mind his expressions and behavior.
“Tony!”
His horse was stabled at the local mews, and it had been some time since he had taken him for a good ride. He rarely rode about London, and as he was not settled in a country house anywhere, there was nothing to call him away.
“Tony!”
That was his name. Faintly, it occurred to him that someone had been calling him, and as he processed that in his mind, he stopped in his tracks.
He knew that voice. He blinked hard and told his feet to turn towards it.
His feet would not listen.
He couldn’t blame them. No one would have expected him to hear that voice in London, let alone on a day when he was feeling only slightly less tossed about than he had been the day before. That voice belonged to a person who was entirely too intuitive, and entirely too meddlesome.
His stepmother, Miranda.
Tony swallowed hard and turned his head, which decided to obey, towards the sound.
Seated in an open barouche on the lane was indeed his stepmother, her beauty catching the eye of several gentlemen both young and old, and making her look far younger than she was, as her hair was still the same dark shade it had been in her youth. She wore a large, expensively adorned bonnet that only highlighted her perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and the ribbons danced on the breeze too perfectly. Her complexion was flawless, nearly without line, and her eyes were a brilliant crystal blue. She was graceful, poised, and the picture of utter refinement. It was no wonder she attracted so much attention, she was almost the description of perfection.
Almost.
No one looking at her would know she was the most mischievous woman he had ever known in his entire life, including any of the Spinsters.
One look in that barouche told him that he was in a great deal of trouble and would have to proceed with caution.
He’d rather not have proceeded at all, but proceed he must.
Miranda was not to be ignored.
His feet complied with his order to move this time, and he turned on his path, making his way towards the barouche, forcing himself to smile. It wasn’t so difficult, as he adored Miranda, but at this moment, he wished her miles away.
Miranda smiled benevolently as he approached, and he chuckled to himself at how perfectly “Miranda” this all was. She was out for a ride in the fashionable hours in Hyde Park, wearing what seemed to be a newer gown, its sleek lines slimming her where she would wish and enhancing her favorite assets; and all the while she had spotted the stepson she found the most amusement in. She was being admired while doing something she knew could cause some trouble.
It was her dream come true, in his estimation.
“Miranda,” Tony greeted, sweeping off his hat and bowing to her. He examined the barouche quickly, then raised a brow at her. “What, Rufus didn’t come with you?”
Miranda narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to smile at the mention of her beloved bloodhound. “You know perfectly well that Rufus would never tolerate an open carriage with so many people about. This isn’t the country, Anthony, and he might think the passing members of Society rather large foxes.”
“You could get a smaller dog,” he pointed out.
“Rufus suits me perfectly well, and I don’t recall asking your opinion on the subject.”
“This is true.” Tony shook his head, allowing himself to grin freely at his stepmother. “You are looking lovelier than I recall.”
She gave him a small, bemused smile and inclined her head. “Tony, dear, don’t flatter me when you don’t mean it.”
He rested his arm on the wheel of the barouche, peering up at her. “I always mean it when I flatter you, Stepmama.”
Miranda’s nostrils flared slightly, and her smile tightened. “Anthony Sterling, you know better than to call me that horrible name, even in jest.”
Tony adopted a would-be innocent expression. “But that’s what you are. Isn’t it a mark of respect?”
“It will be a mark of something if you do it again.”
He chuckled and smiled up at her. “I hadn’t expected to see you in London, Miranda. You’ve never expressed an interest in returning before.”
Miranda sighed as she adjusted her kid gloves. “Well, Mr. Johnston had some business in London, and Arabella decided to join him, and I decided to join Arabella. Now Mr. Johnston has extended his business indefinitely, so we’ve rented a house.”
Tony bit back a groan. Indefinitely was a dangerous word with Miranda, and if she was in London long enough, she would know about Georgie.
That would be a disaster.
“Don’t mind me,” chimed in another voice, seated beside Miranda, but barely visible at all from his vantage point. “You two keep chatting away and ignore me.”
Tony made a show of peering around his stepmother and smiled warmly at his aunt, who was not and never had been a match for her sister in looks but was certainly a handsome woman in her own right even now. “Good morning, Aunt. How are you?”
She smirked at him and folded her hands primly in her lap. “With my sister attracting all of these men like bees to honey? I’m worn out and desperate for a cup of tea.”
“Oh, hush,” Miranda scolded, her delicate brow knitting as she looked at her sister. “They only want to look, and I’m not going to encourage anybody. I never do. I’m far too old to marry again, and I don’t care who hears me say it.”
Tony rolled his eyes at that. Miranda was determined to remain devoted to the memory of his father, which he approved of, but she also made a point of reminding everybody that she could marry again, if she wished to, while at the same time determining herself to be older than she was.
“Why are you walking Hyde Park alone, Tony?” Arabella inquired, pointedly ignoring her sister’s proclamation, as per usual. “It’s a fine day, should you not have a lady on your arm?”
“Or at the very least a horse at your disposal,” Miranda added, returning her focus to him. “A gentleman on horseback is a fine sight indeed. One walking on his own a rather poor one.”
“Then a poor sight I am, and it will undoubtedly do me a world of good.” He gave them both a cheeky grin, drumming his fingers on the wheel.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Miranda frowned a little and turned more towards him. “Tony, could you not convince Ben to come up from Dorset with you? Surely he would be sound company for you.”
Tony shuddered for effect. “One month with the good doctor was more than enough, I can assure you. He’s very well set up, I’ll grant you, and his house is very comfortable, even for you.”
She gave him a dubious look at that but smiled in amusement.
“But no,” Tony sighed, shaking his head. “Ben has no desire to come to London, nor to take up Mawbry House. He says he feels uncomfortable, as it is your house, and not our father’s.”
Miranda snuffed loudly, surprising him. “Fiddlesticks. I don’t have any children that I have borne, and I promised your father when we bought my cousin’s house that it would stay within the family. Ben’s the eldest, it’s his estate!”
Tony shrugged a shoulder, grinning at her vehemence. “Ben wants to make his own way.”
“He can make his own way in a large house in Dover,” she snapped. She huffed in irritation and looked at Arabella. “Don’t say a word, I refuse to deed it to Simon.”
Arabella raised her hands in surrender. “I didn’t ask. Simon has his own inheritance, and I doubt he’ll deserve that one.”
Tony did not want to begin a conversation about Arabella’s fat and useless son, and he certainly did not need to start a series of rumors about him and a beautiful older woman holding an in-depth conversation in Hyde Park where anybody could see them. He looked around almost apprehensively, trying to keep his pleasant demeanor. Rumors about him would not help the Spinsters, and if Miranda was about in Society as much as he feared, she would hear about his involvement with them.
She would have a great deal to say on that subject when that fateful day arrived.
Especially if she caught word of Georgie. Of him and Georgie.
If there was a word to be said about them.
He hoped there would be. He hoped there would be many words to be said.
But what would they be?
A low, amused hum met his ears, and he looked up into the sparkling eyes of his stepmother, now smirking at him.
“What?” he asked sharply, forcing himself not to rear back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Miranda still smirked and nodded to herself a few times.
“What?” Tony looked at Arabella wildly. “What is she doing?”
Arabella chuckled and gave him a knowing look. “She’s your stepmother, Tony. What do you think?”
That was what terrified him. Miranda had been his stepmother since he was twelve years old, and she had always had far too much intuition where he was concerned. She had always known when he was lying, what he was really thinking, where he had been, and knew exactly how to make him laugh when he’d been determined not to. She’d always tried to be more of a friend than an authoritarian, sometimes opting not to tell his father when he had misbehaved, and it was because of that kinder hand that they had such a warm relationship now.
But Miranda’s intuition couldn’t possibly extend to his secrets now, could it?
He was far too old for her to analyze as she had done before, wasn’t he?
Miranda laughed in a tone that he did not trust at all, then sat back against the barouche seats. “I do hope you will bring her to take tea with us soon, Tony, dear.”
He reared back a little, eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?”
“The woman who has you so tangled in knots,” she elaborated, her smile turning coy. “The one running rampant through your mind, no doubt throwing your life into complete chaos. It is all over your face, and I must know who she is and how she claimed you.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about,” Tony retorted hotly, folding his arms.
Miranda glowered at him, a look that he knew all too well. “Don’t let her know that. She’d never forgive you for lowering her to such an extent.”
Tony forced himself to have a completely blank expression, despite his rapidly quickening heartbeat. “Miranda, I’m sorry to have to contradict you, but…”
“I wouldn’t,” Miranda interrupted with a shake of her head.
“Nor I,” Arabella added, intentionally not being helpful, to be sure.
“It’s too easy.” Miranda sighed and adjusted her bonnet. “We are at Number 14 Mount Street. Bring your lady by, or I will be forced to make inquiries.”
He shouldn’t have, but he pressed his luck and asked, “And to whom would you inquire?”
The look Miranda bestowed upon him made his heart stop in his chest. “Everyone, Anthony Sterling, beginning with your cousins, Lord Sterling and his wife. I have heard remarkable things about Lady Sterling, and as we were not able to become fully acquainted at their wedding, I feel obliged to make her better acquaintance now. I must say, I am quite looking forward to the prospect.”
Tony forced a swallow. “You would start rumors about me, Miranda?”
“Darling,” she replied in a very pitying tone, “I am quite sure that the rumors are already started.” She nodded at Arabella, who called to the driver, and they pulled away, Miranda waving her dainty fingers at him.
Tony watched them go, feeling rather tossed about by that exchange. Miranda was meddlesome, tiresome, and altogether too clever for her own good. Unfortunately, he was the one that would undoubtedly suffer for it, and who knows what other chaos would ensue as things unfolded. His feelings for Georgie were too fresh, too new to be explored so thoroughly by himself, let alone anyone else.
He had to warn Georgie.
He had to see Georgie.
He had to…
Well, seeing Georgie would be enough. He would be at once calmer and more agitated, but only in the best of ways. There wasn’t an explanation for it, but he didn’t need an explanation.
He didn’t want one.
Tony exhaled slowly, amazed that he could smile with ease once the thought of Georgie returned. He turned back the way he had come, thinking quickly on how the day would need to proceed now, and plotting his course to circumvent Miranda’s efforts while pursuing his own agenda with Georgie. The Spinsters would need to be alerted, and a plan put into place.
The thrill of battle suddenly rose within him, a long-forgotten friend, and his smile deepened.
His stepmother might be conniving, but she had never met Georgiana Allen.
There was no telling what madness could unfold.