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“Yes, of course. Of course. I wassosorry to hear about Albert, though. Poor man. Such a dear.”
Sylvia covered her snort with a cough and turned back to her work, but not before Georgiana cast her an arch glance over Bertha’s shoulder.
The women sat down on the sofa, and Georgiana rang for tea. She also introduced Sylvia as her aunt’s secretary. Bertha gave her a dismissive nod before turning back to Georgiana.
As the two ladies began catching up, Sylvia returned to her work. She was making excellent progress on the sample chapters and planned to spend the evening typing up this latest batch of notes. But her pen came to an abrupt halt at the mention of the name “Wilcox.”
“Do you know the family?” Bertha asked casually.
Georgiana paused to take a sip of tea and likely collect her thoughts. “Yes.”
“There was some sort of scandal there. I can’t remember the particulars.” Bertha frowned as she tried to recall the details of Sylvia’s ruination, but Georgiana remained silent. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “As I was saying, my dear Harold was at his club yesterday afternoon when all of a sudden amancame charging up to Lionel Wilcox. They had some words, and then he grabbed Mr. Wilcox by his shirt and nearly lifted him off the ground. Right there! In front of everyone!”
Sylvia’s heart began to race, and she leaned forward, now desperate to catch every word.
“Who was he?” Georgiana asked with studied disinterest.
Bertha’s eyes practically glowed. She was truly in her element. “That’s the most intriguing part. Haroldsworeit was Rafe Davies. You know, the Earl of Fairfield’s wastrel brother?”
Georgiana set down her teacup and clasped her hands, but her gaze remained cool, controlled. “Yes. I’ve just met him. We were both guests at Castle Blackwood.”
Bertha nearly squirmed with delight at this news. “Really? What’s he like? I’ve heard such stories—” She then shot a glance at Sylvia and tried to compose herself.
“I found him to be a perfect gentleman,” Georgiana said in the lofty tone of a powerful society matron. “He was the picture of politeness to both my aunt and myself. I can’t imagine what he would want with Mr. Wilcox.”
“Quite right.” Bertha nodded furiously in an attempt to align herself with Georgiana. “I can’t imagine either. Harold hadn’t a clue. He doesn’t really know Mr. Wilcox. I’m not even sure how that man even became a member.”
Georgiana didn’t deign to answer. She merely sipped her tea. But she had made her point. Bertha, now positively desperate to regain her favor, changed the subject.
Sylvia tried to return her attention to her notes, but the words swam before her.
Rafe had confronted her brother. Publicly. She couldn’t think of any reason why he would do such a thing and draw such attention to himself if not for her.
Bertha stayed for a few more agonizing minutes, but as soon as the door shut behind her, Georgiana rushed over to Sylvia.
“Tell me you heard that.”
Sylvia couldn’t look up from her desk. “Every word.”
“Did you tell him about Lionel?”
She managed a nod.
“Oh, Sylvia. Can’t you see what this means?”
Sylvia bit her lip, still unable to give voice to her greatest wish. But for the first time in weeks, a dangerous hope sparked in her chest, and she simply didn’t have the will to snuff it out.
When she finally looked up, her friend’s eyes were filled with concern. “Yes,” she answered softly as her throat tightened. “Yes.”
Georgiana wanted to review everything Bertha had mentioned, but Sylvia shook her head. It was too much, too soon. Everything felt so fragile at the moment.
“You still doubt his intentions, even now?” Georgiana asked. Though she understood why Sylvia had been both hurt and disappointed by Rafe’s decision to continue to work for the Crown, she had also made no secret of her desire to see them reconciled.
“I have to.”
“Then I’ll hope for the both of us.” Georgiana reached out and grasped her hand. “You deserve someone who will fight for you.”
Sylvia turned away as her longing raged against her desire for self-protection and threatened to overwhelm her entirely. But it came to a head later that evening when a large envelope arrived for her with the last post of the day.
