Page 95 of Ladies in Hating
And then, barely audible over the thudding of her pulse, came another voice, so familiar that it hurt. “Georgie?”
She looked up. A man—his sleeves rolled up, his twill trousers loose and slouchy—had emerged from the sitting room.Too big,she thought hysterically.He never did learn how to dress.
“Percy,” she whispered.
“Georgie!” He was even taller than she remembered, his jaw sharper.
And when he strode across the room and dragged her into hisarms, his elbows jabbed at her sides exactly the way they always had.
“Percy,” she said again, thickly, into his shirt.
He thrust her away from him. “Georgie, what are you—” He broke off to shout, “Amber! You’ll never guess who’s here!”
Amber.God. Somehow, she’d forgotten that hated nickname.
Somehow, she almost laughed.
How long had she feared this? This reunion, this coming home. She had been so desperate to protect them. To shield herself from the possibility of pain.
But here was Percy, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressed against her head, and she wasnotalone, no matter what their father had said. She did not have to be alone any longer.
More bodies spilled into the room: Ambrose—neatly dressed andbald,for heaven’s sake, when had it happened—and a petite, heavily pregnant woman who must be Noor, the new Countess of Alverthorpe. And—
“Bacon?” Georgiana said dazedly.
ItwasBacon, his small form wriggling with delight as he launched himself in her direction. She lowered herself to the floor and caught his familiar weight in her arms.
She looked up. Edith, the dowager Lady Alverthorpe, had come round the corner as well, as neat and precise as Ambrose, her carnation-pink morning dress buttoned to her throat.
Georgiana blinked. “Mother?”
It had been, so far as she knew, seven years since her mother had seen Ambrose and Percy. Seven years of separation that she had always felt responsible for—seven years apart because her mother had chosen to go with Georgiana when the old earl had cut her off.
But now Edith washere,at Woodcote Hall.
All of them were.
“Georgie,” her mother said, and her voice wobbled before she got it under control. “I had not dreamt—” When her voice cracked again, she clenched her teeth and raised Georgiana and Bacon up off the marble floor.
“I don’t understand,” Georgiana said. Bacon licked her ear sympathetically. “What are you doing here?”
“It was after we spoke at home. After I apologized to you, I realized that there were things I needed to say to your brothers. Things I wanted to tell them face-to-face. I realized that I”—she bit her lip, a tiny, unfamiliar hesitation—“had feared returning to Woodcote. And I was tired of being afraid.”
“Mother,” Georgiana murmured, and then Percy was there too, his arm around Edith as though she were made of glass.
But she was not fragile, was she? If she had been broken, she had knit herself back together, as hardy and tenacious as bone.
“I did not know how much time you would require for your—er—conversation with Miss Lacey,” Edith went on, “so I brought Bacon with me and left you a note. I take it you have not yet returned home?”
Georgiana stifled a sudden and slightly hysterical bubble of laughter. “No—I sentyoua note, with a messenger—”
But Percy interrupted. He was staring, quite agog, at Cat. “Miss Lacey? By God, little Kitty Lacey?” He turned back to Ambrose, who was standing on the periphery with his arms around his wife. “Amber! Look who it is!”
“I implore you,” Ambrose said dryly, “not to use that name in company.” He broke away from his wife, though his hands trailed affectionately down one plump brown arm before he let her go. “Georgiana. I had thought nothing could increase my happiness today.” His eyes were dark blue and very serious as they coastedacross her face. “But it seems that I was wrong. I’m very glad that you have come.” Tentatively, he took her hand in his.
And, just as cautiously, she squeezed his fingers back.
Ambrose turned then to Cat, who’d plucked Bacon from Georgiana’s arms and was murmuring some flummery into his upright ear. “Miss Lacey. Welcome back to Woodcote Hall.” His face went strained. “I am sorry that you did not leave it on better terms. How is your father?”
