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Rafe let out a breath. “We don’t agree on something. I can’t tell you any more than that. The rest is at Henry’s discretion. But even though he is angry with me, I still care about him. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Georgiana had treated Rafe in much the same way in Scotland, when she needed to protect Sylvia from his then unspoken intentions. “Of course,” she murmured. “I know he and I don’t get along, but I certainly have no desire to hurt the man.”
He gave her a strange look before catching himself with a shake of the head. “Never mind. I’ve quite overstepped the bounds here. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Henry?”
“I won’t,” Georgiana said honestly, still not sure what exactly he was talking about.
Rafe gave her a tired smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you at breakfast.” Just as he turned to leave, Georgiana called him back.
“Is everything all right with Sylvia? She seemed tired today during our walk,” she explained at his look of confusion.
“She said nothing to me. Should I be concerned?”
Georgiana shrugged. “She looks slimmer since I saw her last as well. But I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said quickly as alarm filled his dark gaze.
“I’ll make sure the hotel physician comes first thing tomorrow. Thank you.”
“Of course,” she said weakly, feeling like she had gone behind Sylvia’s back. That wasn’t right. But she was relieved to know the physician would see her. Then she turned and walked down the long, empty hallway alone.
When Georgiana entered the suite, the door to the balcony was open. She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the parlor. She could just make out the captain’s shadowed figure leaning against the railing. She watched him for a long moment before ducking into her bedroom, where Bea sat by the fireplace leafing through a book.
She rose at her entrance and unsuccessfully hid a yawn, but Georgiana waved her away. “Tonight went longer than I anticipated. Go to sleep.”
But Bea insisted on removing her jewels and helping her out of her evening gown.
“I can handle the rest,” Georgiana said as she shrugged into a wrapper.
“Yes, my lady,” Bea said, too tired to protest. And hopefully too tired to notice that Georgiana did not immediately retire. Once her maid had shut the door to her room, Georgiana tightened the sash on her wrapper and headed back to the parlor. Her heartbeat thrummed in her throat as she noticed the balcony door still ajar.
As she stepped out into the cool night air, Captain Harris glanced over. Georgiana had been prepared to feign surprise, but gave up at the last moment. She had grown so tired of pretending.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He turned to the sea view and sighed with a heaviness Georgiana could practically feel. “I should say yes.”
Georgiana paused, waiting for more, but he let his silence say what he would not. She moved beside him by the railing. The breeze felt refreshing on her face. She hadn’t realized how warm the countess’s suite had become.
“Sylvia and I quarreled badly when we were staying in Scotland together.” It felt a little strange to mention the trip, given his own fortuitous presence mere moments after she had learned of the viscount’s death.
He faced her, though he was still mostly in shadow. A shaft of lamplight from the parlor grazed his cheek. “What was it about?”
“I had made a decision once that she didn’t understand. And rather than explain myself to her, I just assumed she would trust my judgment. Because I thought that was what friends did.”
Captain Harris grunted. Georgiana couldn’t tell if he agreed with her or not.
“But I was wrong,” she continued. “And I took her concern for disapproval.”
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, my lady.”
“Neither am I,” she said with a short laugh. “I guess my point is that, in my experience, there are very few people in the world who genuinely care about you. So it is worth the effort to understand them as best you can. And not let disagreements, however big they may seem, get in the way of your friendship.”
At that he turned fully toward her. “Is that what you think? That there aren’t many people left who care about you?”
Georgiana frowned. That wasn’t the point she had been trying to make at all. But before she could correct him, Captain Harris gently brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Her breath caught at this unexpected tenderness. Why was it that this man who always seemed to look upon her with such disapproval handled her as if she were made of the finest porcelain?
“I suppose this situation hasn’t helped,” he continued, his low voice washing over her in the darkness. “Knowing there is someone out there who wants to hurt you.”
