Page 53 of Ladies in Hating
“I won’t.” Georgiana hesitated on her next words, and then forced them out. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” Cat’s voice was almost soundless.
“Go on, then. Neither of us is going to fall.”
Cat relinquished her grip on the bricks and did as she was bade. Very slowly, as though her muscles had locked into place, she brought herself over to the other side of the wall.
Just as slowly, Georgiana leaned with her, and helped her inch her way down.
It was not long before their arms unwound, before Cat’s toes touched the ground and she breathed out a little unsteady sound of relief. Georgiana tried to let her go, but Cat caught hold of her arm, and Georgiana had to steady herself atop the wall.
“Wait,” Cat said, “wait.”
“I have to get Bacon—I’ll pass him over to you.”
“No, I know, I—”
They were talking over each other, and Cat’s fingers slid down to twine with Georgiana’s. “Wait,” she said again. “Wait for me a moment.”
Georgiana waited.
Color had come rushing back into Cat’s face. Her lower lip was redder than the top from where she’d bit down hard. Her eyes were soft. Earnest. No teasing now.
“I wanted to say something,” she said, and then she brought Georgiana’s fingers to her cheek. “I trust you.” She turned her face into Georgiana’s hand, pressing her mouth to Georgiana’s open palm.
Desire moved hot and jagged in Georgiana’s veins, the dregs of her fear and the days of yearning like liquor in her blood. Cat’s lips tickled her palm, and her breath was a warm flutter against Georgiana’s skin.
“Thank you,” Cat said very softly. “You are clever and kind and brave as the devil, and I—” She swallowed. “Iseeyou.”
Georgiana couldn’t breathe. She felt hot all over—longing and the sick burn of shame both alive in her at once.
Brave.
God, what a word. She could scarcely remember the last time she had not been afraid. If Cat thought she saw courage when she looked at Georgiana, Georgiana did not know how she’d managed to trick Cat into believing it.
She wanted to pull Cat into her arms. She wanted to rub her thumb across Cat’s lower lip.
And she wanted to run. Had she not promised herself that she would stay away from Cat? Was it not patently obvious by now that Cat was far safer without Georgiana? For God’s sake, the house might have come down atop her, simply because Georgiana had brought her out to the garden.
Georgiana licked her lips and pulled her hand away from Cat’s cheek. “Stay here. I’m going to fetch Bacon.” She lowered herself back down into the Renwick courtyard, where the roses hung thick upon the walls.
She knew she was a coward. And now Cat would know it too.
She was afraid that she might injure Cat—that Cat would be harmed by Georgiana’s presence in her life. But it was not only that. She feared how much she wanted. She was afraid that when Cat looked at her, she could see everything Georgiana had tried so hard to keep hidden.
Tenderness. Hunger. Need like a thicket of thorns.
“I have Bacon,” she said quietly, and moved back to the bench. She did not look down at Cat, because she could not bear to see if Cat looked hurt. “I’ll hand him over. And then we’ll go to the magistrate.”
Chapter 18
If you happen to encounter a magistrate’s report that makes reference to my name, please rest assured that I had nothing to do with the corpse.
—from Cat to her solicitor
It took four hours to get back to Renwick House with the magistrate, and an effort so concerted on Georgiana’s part that Cat would have been impressed, if she hadn’t been quite so exasperated with Her Infuriating Ladyship.
They’d been dirty and bedraggled by the time they made their way to the road that led to Devizes, and tragically devoid of any coin whatsoever. But when a wagon had trundled past them on the road, Georgiana had plastered on her One-of-the-Common-Folk accent, layered over with hints of I’m-Lost and I-Need-You.
