Page 11 of Ladies in Hating
“Some of the names of people and places in my books were drawn from my past, I admit. But others came from my own research—myrecentresearch. The ruined monastery that Lady Darling describes inWightwick Prioryis exactly like the one I traveled to Little Baddow to write about inOrphan of Midnight.I spent sixteen hours interviewing a Florentine chemist to write the electricity book—”
“That’s notsolong,” put in Iris. “I spent that much time just last week attempting to translate four words in Etruscan.”
Selina placed her fingers delicately over her mouth, which Georgiana knew perfectly well meant she was hiding a laugh.
“Thank you, Iris,” Georgiana managed.
“Perspective,” Iris said innocently, “is always helpful.”
“Indeed. Well. From the perspective of severalyearsof following Lady Darling’s career, I am convinced that there is something more beneath the surface than mere coincidence.”
Could this be some bizarre form of revenge for what Georgiana’s father had done to the Lacey family? It seemed circuitous at best—but then again, a long-held and twisting revenge plot was nothing if not Gothic.
Selina lowered her hand and, to Georgiana’s surprise, gave a little thoughtful tilt of her head. “I have to admit,” she said, “itdoes seem odd to me that her novels should so regularly publish within weeks of yours and with topics so like one another. I had some sense of it, of course, when I prepared the Belvoir’s catalog. But the sheer number of coincidences was not apparent to me until you pointed them out.”
Georgiana had the briefest of moments to feel gratified—therewassomething peculiar going on, she hadknownit—before Selina’s stern glare promptly deflated her.
“That said,” Selina added, “I should prefer that you do not use my library as the site for your intrigues in the future.”
“Ah—yes, of course—”
“Or if you must,” Selina added, “do not do it without me.”
Georgiana didn’t quite know what to say to that. She lifted her teacup to her mouth, took a long swallow, and attempted to regain her composure.
“Tell me,” Selina said when Georgiana had lowered her cup, “what do you plan to do next?”
Georgiana set the cup down into the saucer so firmly that it clinked, a faux pas that would have raised her mother’s eyebrows. “I’m not entirely certain.”
She straightened her teaspoon with one tiny nudge as she thought about the conversation she’d had with Cat in the alley. She did not know if her words had had any effect whatsoever—heavens, if anyone had come out of that contest the victor, it had certainly not been she.
But if she could not provoke Cat Lacey into stopping whatever intrigue she was engaged in, then perhaps…
Perhaps Georgiana couldbeather.
She shoved back from the table so abruptly that her chair wobbled behind her. “I am going home.”
Both Selina and Iris looked a trifle dazed by this sudden change of course.
“That was quick,” Selina said.
Georgiana waved a hand. “I’m not giving up. I am redirecting my energies. I am going to write a novel.”
Iris raised a brow. “Is that… a new plan? Because I was under the impression—”
Georgiana frowned at her. “Anewnovel. Quickly. I will take my manuscript to Jean Laventille before Lady Darling can possibly bring hers to her printer, andIwill publish first this time.”
Cat had accusedherof lacking originality. Had suggested that she, Georgiana, might be the one whose work was imitative.
But she knew—of course she knew, they both must know—that it was not so.
Cat’s newest novel had just been brought out, and she did not typically publish more than twice a year. If Georgiana could get her own manuscript to the printer quickly—if she could get her manuscript out first, beat Lady Darling to the press by weeks or months…
No one could accuse her of imitation then.
“That seems eminently reasonable,” said Selina. “Shockingly little in the way of skullduggery.”
Iris nodded and set her own teacup back into its saucer. “It does seem so. However”—she peered up at Georgiana—“if you do mean for us to confront her a second time, perhaps you’ll allow me to do the talking? And, er, come armed?”
