“I'm glad you decided to come."
"It doesn't mean anything." He grinned. "Everything means something.”
“He wrote you a poem?" Evelyn looped her hand around Georgiana's arm and led the way to the chairs lining one side of the room.
"He did." Grateful to see Luxley select one of the debutantes as his next victim, Georgiana accepted a glass of Madeira from one of the footman. After three hours of quadrilles, waltzes, and country dances, her feet ached. "And you know what rhymes with Georgiana, don't you?"
Evelyn wrinkled her brow, her gray eyes twinkling. "No, what?"
"Nothing. He just put 'iana' after every ending word. In iambic trimeter, yet. 'Oh, Georgiana, your beauty is my sunlightiana, your hair is finer than goldiana, your—' "
Lucinda made a choking sound.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you're unbearably rude?" she returned, facing him again.
"Why, yes. You have on several occasions, as I recall. If you care to apologize for that, however, I'll be happy to escort you wherever you wish to go."
A flush crept up her cheeks, coloring her delicate, ivory skin. "I will never apologize to you," she snapped. "And you may go straight to Hades."
He hadn't expected her to apologize, yet he couldn't help suggesting it every so often. "Very well. Upstairs, first door on the left. I'll be in Hades, if you should require my services.”
“To his surprise and suspicion, she smiled.”
“Do you have nicknames for any of your other brothers?"
The youngster squinted his dark gray eyes in concentration. "Well, Tristan is Dare, and sometimes he's Tris; and Bradshaw is Shaw; and sometimes we call Andrew, Drew, but he doesn't like that very much."
"Why not?"
"He says it's a girls' name, and then Shaw calls him Drusilla.”
“I would like to point out, though, Lady Georgiana," he continued, "that you have decided to stay in a household with five single gentlemen, three of them adults."
"Four," Andrew broke in, coloring. "I'm seventeen. That's older than Romeo was when he married Juliet."
"And it's younger than I am, which is what counts," Tristan countered, sending his brother a stern look.”
“If ye were no longer there—or somewhere—” he said very softly, “then the sun would no longer come up or go down.” He lifted my hand and kissed it, very gently. He laid it, closed around my ring, upon my chest, rose, and left.”
“He was one of the most supremely stupid men I have ever met. He taught me a great deal.”
“They're in love. Fuck the war.”
“I hope,” he replies softly, “to get to know you again. If you are open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away.”
“Work, he said, was a first-rate medicine for any illness.”
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