“I propose,” Peter said, “that we lay a trap.”
Peter handedGeorgie down from his cabriolet at the front door of the rectory, juggling the basket of otters with the horse’s reins. It was a tricky proposition since the basket had a tendency to lurch as the otters threw themselves against the sides.
Georgie took the basket from him without a word and proceeded up the steps to the cottage. Before she could knock, Mrs. Barwick opened the door and curtsied.
“Welcome home, Lady Peter.” She glared at him past Georgie’s shoulder, and Peter blinked. Did the whole village know what a fool he’d been?
Most likely.
With a sigh, he jumped back into the cabriolet and drove it to the stables to unhitch and groom the horse. Georgie had been silent since he had told her his plan, and he could see she was torn between wanting to maintain her anger at him and wanting to protect her otters. In the end, the otters had tipped the scales.
He knew he ought to have had more compunction about using the otters to convince Georgie to return home with him, but all was fair in love and war.
He would win back her love by going to war.
And then... he must tell her he loved her. His tongue had been stilled first by his foolish plan to intercept Paul, and then by her understandable coldness.
He did not wish her to think he was only mouthing the words to manipulate her. To have her throw his love in his face as a result of his own actions might be what he deserved, but he preferred to avoid it, for both of their sakes.
He would make amends to Georgie first, and then tell her how he felt. If she did not return his feelings any longer because of his abandoning her...
He did not want to think about that possibility.
Once Peter had settledthe otters in the drawing room for the night, he met Georgie in the dining room for a silent dinner.They had never lacked conversation before, but tonight Peter couldn’t think of anything to say, other than more hollow apologies. Georgie picked at her food before she lay down her fork and stood up, forcing him to stand as well.
“I am tired. Good night.”
All he could do was bow and watch her go.
Mrs. Barwick swept in a half-second later. She must have been waiting in the hallway for one of them to leave.
As she removed his plate, he realized that he, too, had spent the meal pushing food around rather than eating it.
He sighed and left for the drawing room. Tonight, he wanted to brood over a glass of brandy and think about what a fool he’d been. The otter basket sat near the unlit fireplace, and Bonny’s suspicious eye gleamed at him in the candlelight as he poured his brandy.
The empty chair across from him seemed reproachful tonight, as though he had failed by not bringing Georgie back to it.
He took another sip of brandy to avoid falling too far into flights of fancy.
When at last he ventured upstairs, he opened the door to their bedroom to find Georgie already asleep. Her arm curved up from beneath the covers and he could see she had put on a long-sleeved nightdress that enveloped her from neck to toe. Clearly, there would be no lovemaking tonight.
He made his own preparations for bed as quietly as he could and, after a moment’s hesitation, donned his own nightshirt. He had not worn it to sleep in since their wedding night. He pulled the covers back on his side of the bed and slid in to stare at Georgie’s back for the whole sleepless night.
The next morning,Georgie sat in the drawing room, unable to concentrate on the book in her lap. She had slept poorly and risen earlier than usual to avoid Peter. Even the antics of her otters could not draw more than a few wan smiles from her.
She had returned to the place where she had first fallen in love with Peter, and she felt… frozen. Encased in ice that left her cold and stiff. Was this to be her life from now on? Forever fearing Peter would leave her behind? Having to wait and watch and worry if she was doing what he expected of her as his wife? Working to stay placid, and amiable, and grateful for his condescension in marrying her?
Or she could … not.
She allowed the thought to grow. If Peter decided to leave her behind because of her social standing or family background, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. And if she could not prevent it, she might as well… do as she pleased.
The thought was frightening, but strangely liberating. If she no longer had to squeeze herself into the box she had thought necessary to prove herself worthy of him, what might she do?
19
After lunch, they sat down in Peter’s study to finalize their plans to catch Sir John in the act of trying to steal the otters. Peter was relieved to see Georgie’s frightening passivity had faded away, but now he had to contend with the fact that his serene wife was not nearly as amenable to his plan for her to stay safely away from the action as he had thought she would be.
“No,” Georgie said. “Absolutely not. I will not put them in danger that way.”
