“Penny for them,” George said, crossing the room to where Billie sat at the vanity.
She shook her head. “Not worth even that, I’m afraid. It’s all quite maudlin, really.”
“Maudlin? You? I must learn more.”
She gave him a look, then said, “We are so diminished in number now. There used to be so many of us.”
“There still are,” he pointed out.
“I know, but we’re so rarely together. It makes me sad.” She could hardly believe she was speaking so frankly with George, but it had been such an odd, trying day. Perhaps it was making her less guarded.
“We shall all be together again,” he said gamely. “I’m quite sure of it.”
Billie lifted a brow. “Have you been assigned to cheer me up?”
“Your mother offered me three quid.”
“What?”
“I jest.”
She scowled, but with no real feeling behind it.
“Here, come now. I’ll carry you down.” He bent down to take her into his arms, but when he moved to the right, she moved to the left, and their heads bumped.
“Ooof, sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it was my fault.”
“Here, I’ll…” He made to put his arms behind her back and under her legs, but there was something inescapably awkward about it, which was the oddest thing, since he had carried her for over a mile just a few hours earlier.
He lifted her into the air, and the maid, who had been standing at quiet attention throughout the conversation, jolted out of the way as Billie’s legs swung around in an arc.
“A little less pressure on my neck, if you would,” George said.
“Oh, so sorry.” Billie adjusted her position. “It was just the same as this afternoon.”
He moved out into the hall. “No, it wasn’t.”
Maybe not, Billie conceded to herself. She’d felt so at ease when he had carried her through the woods. Far more at ease than she’d had any right to in the arms of a man who was not her relation. Now it was just plain uncomfortable. She was excruciatingly aware of his nearness, of the bold heat of his body, seeping through his clothing. His coat collar was properly high, but when her finger grazed the very top of it, a little lock of his light brown hair curled down over her skin.
“Is aught amiss?” he asked as they reached the top of the staircase.
“No,” she said quickly, then cleared her throat. “Why would you think so?”
“You haven’t stopped fidgeting since I picked you up.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t really think of anything to say to that. “It’s just that my foot hurts.” No, apparently she could think of something. Pity it was completely irrelevant.
He paused, gazing down at her with concern. “Are you sure you want to come to dinner?”
“I’m sure.” She let out an exasperated snuff of air. “For heaven’s sake, I’m already here. It would be ridiculous to quarantine myself in Mary’s room.”
“It’s hardly a quarantine.”
“It would feel like quarantine,” she muttered.
He regarded her with a curious expression. “You don’t like being by yourself, do you?”
“Not when the rest of the world is making merry without me,” she retorted.
He was quiet for a moment, his head cocking just far enough to the side to indicate that he found her words curious. “What about the rest of the time?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When the world isn’t gathering without you,” he said with a vaguely condescending tone. “Do you mind being on your own?”
She felt her brows come together as she gazed up at him. What on earth could be prompting such probing?
“It’s not a difficult query,” he said, something slightly provocative bringing his voice down to a murmur.
“No, of course I don’t mind being alone.” She pressed her lips together, feeling rather peeved. And peevish. But he was asking her questions she never even asked herself. But then, before she realized she was planning to speak, she heard herself say, “I don’t like —”
“What?”
She gave her head a shake. “Never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
She let out a sigh. He wasn’t going to let up. “I don’t like being cooped up. I can spend all day in my own company if I’m out of doors. Or even down in the drawing room, where the windows are tall and let in so much light.”
He nodded slowly, as if he agreed with her.
“Are you much the same way, then?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said.
Well, then, so much for her being able to interpret his gestures.
“I quite enjoy my own company,” he continued.
“I’m sure you do.”
His mouth managed half a smile. “I thought we weren’t insulting each other tonight.”
“We weren’t?”
“I am carrying you down a flight of stairs. You’d do well to speak kindly to me.”
“Point taken,” she acceded.