Fates for Apate (17 page)

"Georgie!" That was Jack, of course, now leaning over and patting her friend's back.

"Stop it, Jack. I'll be fine."

Sabre blew out a frustrated breath. "You're
not
fine and you're not answering my question, either. Now sit down and explain what's going on."

George settled into a chair, worried that if she sat on a sofa then Jack would just sit next to her and flutter over her some more. "There's not much I can tell. Why does Robert do anything?"

Sabre sat and raised her brow. "He usually has at least five reasons and I'd wager you know at least one of them."

There she sat, staring at her two dearest friends. Friends who seemed confused and upset.

"I can't really tell you anything," she said quietly.

Sabre looked at her shrewdly. "You mean you
won't
tell us anything. You won't tell the Haberdashers."

George shook her head. "It's not up to me."

Sabre rose again. "When Robert enlisted you he had to know that you only had two choices. Loyalty or betrayal. Why he chose someone capable of betrayal I will never understand."

Although she had been expecting something of the like, Sabre's words stabbed at George viciously. "What would you have me do?"

Sabre stopped short. "I would have you
not
betray a friendship that I have held as sacred for more than a decade. Really, George, how could you?"

"I'm serving the Crown!"

Sabre's expression cleared. That could be a good sign or a bad sign. Much like her brother, Sabrina Bittlesworth was at heart a rather cold person. "You're proud of yourself, aren't you? Secret missions and secret marriages."

"Proud of my work? A bit, perhaps."

"You're not serving the Crown, George. You're serving yourself. Everything else is an honorable excuse."

"Sabre!" Jack intervened. "You've no idea what she's been doing."

"Exactly! I
don't
have any idea. She won't tell us."

George said quietly, "If you were in my position, you would do the same."

"Would I? You really think so? I have
principles
, George. I assume you haven't been in Scotland this whole time. I would never lie to Haberdashers about where I was, what I was doing."

"Sabre, that's enough," Jack admonished. 

"How can you defend her, Jack?"

"She's a Haberdasher."

"Is she really? I thought the Haberdashers had a code. Had loyalty to one another. It's bad enough that she went off to do God knows what for Robert without us. She did it without
telling
us."

"What would you do for your duke?" George asked. "Would you lie for him? Hide things from us for him?"

"Are you trying to say that you were in love with Robert, that's why you did this?"

"Of course not. I'm saying that you're being intractable because your principles haven't been tested."

"Are you in love with your husband? Are you warning us that you'll betray us for him, too?"

George looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. "I'm saying that there are often conflicting priorities, conflicting loyalties. I would trust you, Sabre, to choose the path that least hurt those you cared about."

"You've caught yourself neatly in your own logic there, Georgie. You knew this would hurt Jack and I when we found out, proving that you cared about yourself more than either of us." Sabre turned to Jack. "Thank you very much for your invitation to nuncheon, but Quince and I really must be getting on to Belle Fleur. I'll send you a note when we return."

Jack nodded. "Of course."

The two young women exchanged hugs as George stayed in her seat, staring blankly at her muslin covered knees. Once Sabre left the room, Jack knelt on the floor in front of George, taking her hands.

"Don't worry so much, she'll come around."

George's laugh was hollow. "I haven't been gone so long that I've forgotten how Sabre can be."

"Yes, I'm relying on Quince."

George finally looked her friend in the eye. Jack's expression was one of empathy, concern, and wry amusement. "I should trust that the duke will defend me? He doesn't even know me."

"True. But he knows Sabre and he understands friendship. I can't imagine him letting Sabre walk away from our history."

"Letting? No one 'lets' Sabre do anything."

Jack chuckled. "You'll see. They're rather evenly matched, something that may not be obvious on first glance."

"No, that doesn't seem obvious at all. He's barely said a thing."

"Hm. Enough about the Duke and Duchess of Beloin. Why don't you tell me about your husband?"

Tell Jack about Casimir? What on earth could she say? "He's... He's very charming."

"I suppose he would have to be in order to distract you from your
tendre
for Charlie."

"I don't have a
tendre
for Charlie."

"I see."

"All right, I can admit now that I thought I did. But I didn't. Not really."

Jack brightened. "Oh. This is a love match for you, then?"

George bit her lip. "I wouldn't say that exactly."

"What would you say?"

"I- I'm not sure. Although perhaps I should check on him."

Jack rose to her feet. "Of course. I'll have a tray sent up for you both." Her friend rang for a servant and gave directions for a light meal to be sent up.

George thanked her and ascended the stairs to the guest rooms.

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Casimir hurt rather a lot. When he returned to the townhouse where he left her, demanding to know where 'George' was, he hadn't quite expected the reception he had received. Not taken unawares this time, their three against one odds coupled with Casimir's reluctance to leave until he found his wife had ended with him tied to a chair. Then the interrogation began. Interrogation facilitated by a beating. Bobbins had been understandably upset by their first encounter and followed his employers instruction's with an unmistakable relish. Casimir was now quite sure that the man had been a fighter. And that whoever these people were, they were professionals at this. So much pain, yet no permanent damage to his knowledge. Very little visible damage, just the split lip which he had gotten while they were wrestling him down. But pain, oh yes, they knew how to deal that. It hurt to take more than the shallowest breath, even after the doctor had taped up his ribs. But at least this bed was comfortable. If he could stay here for a few days he might feel almost normal again.

The door opened. Gina. George.

"Hullo," he said quietly.

She shut the door behind her and came over to sit on the side of the bed, taking his hand in her own. "How do you feel?"

He gave a wheezing breath that was the closest he dare come to a laugh. "As though I've been beaten for the last twelve hours? How do you feel?"

Her lower lip quivered but she gave him a wan smile. "As though I've been shot."

"Aren't we a pair? Perhaps we should have stayed in Vienna."

She nodded. "Perhaps we should have." Her expression became quite grave and she stared down at their joined hands. "I'm sorry Robert hurt you," she whispered.

That wheezing breath that was almost a laugh again. "Not nearly as sorry as I am."

Her lower lip trembled again, then he saw silent tears running  down her cheeks. 

"
Ukochany
, don't cry for me. I'll heal."

She closed her eyes. "It's either cry from the frustration or kill Robert."

His reaction was closer to a chuckle and his ribs protested. "As I said, don't cry."

That surprised a laugh from her and she leaned down to kiss his cheek, the corner of his mouth. When he tried to kiss her she pulled back, laying a finger on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh good, I've had enough of that for one day."

She cocked her head to the side. "Did the doctor give you any laudanum?"

"I didn't want to take it."

"It would help you sleep."

"Then I would be that much easier to catch and beat upon. It may be irrational, but I would prefer not."

"Why didn't you tell Robert you were my husband?"

"You said you didn't want to tell anyone yet."

"It might have saved you hours at his hands."

He gave the barest of shrugs. "You said you didn't want to tell anyone yet."

Her tears started again, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

* * *

George wiped her cheeks and stood as she called, "Come in."

A Harrington footman and maid came in with trays of food.

"If you could set them on the bed, please," she directed. The low table by the window was too far away and she didn't want Casimir to move. Once the staff had bowed out she settled on the side of the bed opposite her husband, organizing the trays in front of her to her satisfaction. "Tea?" she asked.

"Yes, please."

She fixed his cup with her usual efficiency, but could see her hand was shaking. Perhaps she would take the laudanum herself. It was as though everything she did
not
want to have happen had happened. Sabre and Robert were furious with her. Jack was worried about her, which honestly could be just as annoying. And Casimir was hurt.

"Do you need any more pillows?" she asked.

He shook his head and took the cup from her. "I'm fine. What else do we have here?"

"It looks like Sabre's nuncheon."

"All these languages I know, and you pick words that aren't in any of them."

"Nuncheon. Earlier and a bit heartier than afternoon tea." She tore one of the dainty watercress sandwiches in half and fed him the morsel. They made their way through the sandwiches, biscuits, and fruit without saying a word, but his gaze on her made it all seem intimate. Intense. If they weren't both hurt she would try to seduce him. If he weren't hurt she would at least lie atop him and enjoy the warmth and solidity of him. Her husband. He had come back for her. He had come back and hadn't revealed their relationship because he wasn't sure she wanted him to. It was foolish, but also brave and endearing. She loved him so much that just thinking about it gave her a sharp pain in her heart. Certainly he loved her as well if he were willing to stand up to Robert over such a silly secret.

She moved the trays to the table and curled up next to him on the bed, her head on his shoulder and his hand clasped between both of her own. If Sabre didn't understand conflicting loyalties then she didn't love her duke at all.

* * *

Gideon was relieved to finally be eating, even if it was sans guests, but his wife was subdued from the earlier conflict. She stared at her plate as she shredded her sandwich into tiny bits. He knew that she would eventually bring up what was bothering her and it turned out he didn't have long to wait.

"What do you think of George's husband?"

"We're barely acquainted."

She gave him one of her sardonic stares from under her lashes. "Please. I've seen you commit thousands of pounds in business deals on shorter acquaintance."

"Oh, you mean think of it like a business deal?" He gave her a teasing grin and sat back with his glass of wine. "Well then, yes, I suppose I would risk at least a few thousand pounds on Mr. Rokiczana. He was rash to challenge Robert, but wise enough not to extend that attitude to the rest of us. A man can be forgiven for wanting to protect his wife, I should think."

"He was protecting her?"

"He wouldn't tell Robert anything, including the fact that he was married to her? Yes, most likely he thought he was protecting her."

"Do you like him?"

"Jack, we barely exchanged three sentences."

"I think I like him."

"You didn't talk to him at all!"

"No, but George, when she talked about him, she had a look that I didn't recognize. I feel sorry for Charlie, he seemed quite surprised by her marriage. He always discouraged her attentions, but now I wonder."

"Don't worry about Charlie, he doesn't suffer for lack of feminine companionship."

His wife blushed a rosy hue. "I doubt I want to know what you mean by that."

"Oh? With our guests otherwise occupied I hoped we could go upstairs and I could explain it in detail."

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George had expected hovering from Jack, but in the morning she merely received a note that said they should rest as long as needed and ring for anything they might like. George sent back a note of thanks and asked that the dress she won be redeemed as a suit of clothes for Casimir instead. Meals were routinely delivered on trays and the doctor arrived each morning to check on their progress. A different doctor than had removed her bullet, but Casimir insisted that her wound be inspected each day. The first time she saw the mess of bruises on Casimir's torso she reconsidered her threat to kill Robert. He deserved a slow, suffering death for this.

By the third day George felt a bit guilty hiding in the guest room of her friend's enormous London townhome. As she was considering if they, or at least she, should go down for breakfast there was another knock on their door. When she answered it she found the cheeky servant she remembered stealing biscuits in the kitchen. He had clothing draped over his arm.

"Good morning, my lady," he said with a bow. "I am here to see to the gentleman. I am Mr. Whitman, the earl's valet."

Casimir rose from the bed. "Excellent."

George took this as her signal that she should seek out Jack while the valet attended to her husband. "Send for me if you need anything?"

"Of course,
ukochany
," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand.

She suspected that the endearment meant wife. He had called her that exclusively since coming to the townhouse. She missed hearing him call her Gini but was tentative about discussing her name. They had filled their time here with the same sort of nonsense entertainments as on the carriage ride, cards and chatting. It was as though they were both afraid to discuss anything of gravity.