Page 112 of Lessons for Marquesses
There was nothing ladylike about her, especially in light of her recent behavior. “We need to make haste and return to Farendon before they do. We’ll take the shortcut.”
“And you’ll be waiting as if this never happened.”
Oh, but it had.
Georgiana led the way through the woods, parting the low-hanging branches of English oak and brambles for Kitty to pass as they went.
“How many times did he kiss you?” asked Kitty.
Georgiana swallowed. “I don’t know.”
They trekked on. Spying Farendon fluttering between the trees, Georgiana directed them northeast, to enter from the garden. She ushered Kitty inside and drew her along to the service stairs to the nursery. Throwing her muddy boots aside, Georgiana shed her torn clothes and, grabbing the first suit she came upon, jumped into her breeches and jammed in her shirt. She retrieved a clean set of boots and at the side of the tiny bed yanked them on.
Kitty cocked her head. “So you liked it?”
Georgiana smothered her face in her hands. “It was wonderful and a little horrifying. I am not the same. I don’t think I shall ever be.”
“I know of what you speak,” Kitty whispered.
Georgiana lifted her head to find her friend staring at her scuffed pink slippers. “Will you tell me what happened with Julian? I know you were in l?—”
“No.” She frowned, her full mouth flat. "That is, no longer. If ever, really.” And then she shrugged it off with a smile. "You know how fanciful I am. Likely, I imagined it all.”
The stark pain in her eyes said imagination had naught to do with it.
“If you ever need to speak to someone…”
“Of course,” Kitty forced. “Now make haste downstairs and pretend you’ve been here. You mustn’t have Lady Tufton blathering to Aunt Charlotte.”
Georgiana hurried through the hallway, smelling her own fear, and at the corner leading to the main stairs, Mr. Wolf appeared, carrying a ravaged and bloody-nosed Caroline.
Georgiana came to a skidding halt.
He nodded, saying smoothly, “Lady Tufton has had an accident.”
Georgiana tore her gaze away from the knowing shimmer in his eyes. Caroline’s nose was cut across the dainty bridge. From there, a ghastly scrape made a path down to her upper lip. “Cousin, what happened?”
“I fell. Trying to get toyou.”
Mr. Wolf’s stare was palpable.
“Me?” It was easy to sound shocked. She was. “Where?”
Her cousin crooked a gloved finger. Georgiana took a step, and Caroline motioned her closer, not satisfied until Georgiana was bent over. “You will have one of the servants fetch the physician. You will attend to my wounds. And you will apologize to me or I will tell your aunt what a wicked little whore you’ve been.”
Her entire being roared like a barn fire.
Mr. Wolf’s voice was a harsh growl. “Lady Tufton, that is enough!”
He strode away to Georgiana’s room, jerked open the door, and disappeared. The bed ropes creaked. A harsh murmur and a terse lecture followed. Caroline gasped and the door slammed shut.
Mr. Wolf stood in front of her. To Georgiana’s reeling mind, he had simply materialized. “You are not a whore. In any sense.”
“In some sense, I am,” she said vaguely.
“You arenota whore. You will not even think it. You will not attend to her. You will not set foot in that room. You will not apologize to her. She will apologize to you, I give you my word. Am I clear?”
Why was she so terrified? She had never really fit in the world, and she accepted it. But to be labeled a whore mightprove unbearable. “She will tell Charlotte. Everyone. What I did.”
