Page 80 of Ladies in Hating
Georgiana opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her nose burned; her eyes felt hot. How would she be able to stand the sight? Cat, there in the apartment in Bloomsbury, all spiced wine and generosity and joy.
How could she see Cat there and stop herself from wanting forever?
And she could not have forever. She had chosen her life purposefully: alone and independent, because to be alone was to keep the people she loved safe.
To be alone was tobesafe. Was the only way not to be hurt.
As the silence stretched, Cat’s face went slowly pale in the soft dawn light. Her expressive mouth wobbled slightly, then compressed, hard and flat. “I see.”
Georgiana swallowed against the ache in her throat. She didn’t know what Cat saw. Part of her didn’twantto know. Didn’t want honesty.
But Cat’s only way was honesty, was raw truth forced into the space between them. Was courage that Georgiana couldn’t put her hands around, could never hope to grasp.
“You don’t want me to go with you,” Cat said. “You don’t want me in your house, in front of your mother. Because you’re ashamed.”
Georgiana’s heart beat hard against her ribs, and it hurt all the way through her. “No! God, no, that’s not it at all. You mustn’t think that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing!” Panic clutched at her insides, muddling her head. “You’re making too much of this, Catriona.”
She wanted to claw the words back into her mouth. They were horrible, and alie,and Cat could plainly see Georgiana’s fear and retreat, even if she did not understand the cause.
Cat’s face was still too pale, her lips white, and Georgiana felt anguish splinter through her like ice.Shewas doing this. She was hurting Cat, precisely as she’d known she would.
She had heard Pauline the previous night. She’d come halfway back down the stairs, intending to gather coal and build up the fire. But then she’d frozen at the sound of Pauline’s voice.
She seems different from you. Cold.
And then, as if resigned:Oh, Kitty. Do not let her break your heart.
She’d slipped silently back up the stairs. Her skin had felt raw, her hands numb.
But she’d known that Pauline was not wrong. Georgiana didnot belong in this warm, affectionate family. She had destroyed her own and—perhaps worst of all—had made no attempt to repair the breach. She had made herself an island, and perhaps shewascold, and ruthless, and meant to be alone, because even now she did not know what she would have done differently.
But she’d told herself that it was all right. That she could spend the night with Cat. That she could bring Cat pleasure, and leave her safe and warm in the morning.
She’d been wrong. She ought to have known that her thorns would wound Cat as well—that her spiked edges were bound to draw blood. When Cat drew out a picture of the future—of nights and mornings together, of ease and desire and love—Georgiana could not imagine herself inside of it.
When Cat held out her hand, Georgiana did not know how to grasp it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and stood up from the bed. She wrestled her way back into her frock from the day before and tried not to look at Cat’s face. “I have to go.”
When Cat spoke, her voice was very quiet. “You promised,” she said. “You promised you would not do this to me again.”
Georgiana looked up from the little pearl buttons on her dress. Cat’s face was impossible to look at—all surprise and betrayal—so Georgiana turned away. Her gaze fell on the rumpled bed. The desk. The mirror.
Everywhere she turned seemed to augur disaster. If she fled now, she would commit precisely the act that Cat had feared. She would leave Cat here alone.
But if she stayed…
How easily she would ruin Cat. How easily she would ruin everything.
And because she was a coward, the choice was, after all, no choice. She set her hand to the door.
“It’s only—that Bacon needs me,” she said hoarsely, and thought:Forgive me. Please understand.
And when Cat nodded and did not speak, Georgiana pretended it was enough.
