Page 96 of A Lady of Means
Waves of regret and self-loathing filled her until she failed to see or breathe around it.She felt that it preceded her into a room making space for itself and that when people saw her, they saw her secrets, her shame, and her guilt too.
Except they didn’t.
They mostly treated her with the same deference as they did before.Maybe even a little fear.
Even George.When he came to call, he prattled on about parliament again and she listened with rapt interest, asking animated questions like she could hide the lie with her equanimity.
George lounged across from her at her tea table with one bespoke boot across his other knee.“You’re in a good mood today, practically buoyant.”
Was he looking at her extra closely today or was that her guilt insisting that he was?
“Policy making is exhilarating.”No, her voice was far too high; surely she gave herself away?
He chuckled, taking her hand.“If only I believed you.”She thought she heard a note of condescension or knowing in his voice, but he looked up at her with hopeful eyes.“Dare I be so bold as to assume…that it’s my presence you find exhilarating?”
She swallowed.Tell him now, the secret, given form and skin and teeth and claws, insisted.
“I don’t think that’s so bold, Your Grace.”
“It’s George, Moria,” he said, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her closer.
They were interrupted by Lady Olivia entering the sitting room.“Good afternoon, Your Grace.My sister sent me in here to look for a book she left behind.”
The words seemed to register between both George and Moria at the same time.“In other words, she sent you to spy…”
“I’ll only be but a moment and then I’ll leave you two to your….discussion,” Olivia said.
Except she didn’t stay but a moment.The three of them turned at the open door as Noelle peaked her head in.
“This dratted bird of yours, Olivia.He won’t go back in his cage.I need your help, please.”
Olivia bit her bottom lip.“Should we leave the two of them unchaperoned with the way they are looking at each other?”
Noelle placed her hands on her hips.“Now, Olivia!Before I send your bird to work as a mine canary!”
“You wouldn’t dare!”Olivia said, bolting from the room.
Moria laughed instantly.George covered his mouth, but his shoulders shook with mirth.
Once they were alone, he leaned forward, taking one hand of hers in both of his larger ones.
“Just how was I looking at you?”he asked.
Moria pursed her lips, searching for the right words.“Like you were quite hungry, and I was the last snack on the tray.”
“You are.You are about to become my wife.”
Moria bit her lip.That was actually a very cute metaphor, but didn’t quite work with the pronouncement he’d made just a few days before.She edged closer, close enough to sweep the hair back from his eyes.“And would you…like to sample your last snack… before the shop closes?”
No!God, woman what are you thinking?Some part of her moth-eaten conscience railed at her.
His eyes were a familiar, soft green, the shade of grass beneath one’s feet on a dewy morning.But there was a crease between his brows.“Sample?Why would I sample the last snack on the tray?And why is the shop closing?”
Moria’s palm hit her forehead.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, realization dawning.“You were continuing the metaphor, I get it now.”
He kissed her, but not solidly enough that she was thinking only of him.
