Page 14 of A Rare Find

Elfreda turned without a word.

“Elf.” Georgina caught her arm.

She froze in Georgina’s grasp. She felt lightheaded, and she smelled balsam, a bright, evergreen scent cutting through the orchard’s heavy fragrance of fermentation and moss.

Slowly, she rotated until she was looking into Georgina’s face. The sun struck red glints from her hair, and her straight black lashes framed her narrow blue gaze.

“I’m sorry,” said Georgina. “I’m sorry about the amulet, truly.”

Elfreda pulled back and felt a moment of resistance before Georgina released her hold. Georgina had sounded sincere, which most certainly meant she wasn’t.

“Your apology doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

Georgina folded her arms. Her shoulders made a straight line, and her bosom was flat—or seemed flat. Elfreda’s could never compress to such dimensions.

Georgina’s hips were narrow. She’d always been slender, but in a tight coat, and tighter breeches, she appeared lean and muscular. Her legs were very long, and it felt a bit shocking, seeing them. Two of them. Their contours.

Elfreda realized that her eyes were tracing Georgina’s body. Georgina had realized too.

“Something interests you,” she drawled. “Whatever it is, I’m amenable.”

Suddenly, Elfreda found it difficult to think. She found it difficult to breathe. She didn’t understand the implication of Georgina’s words, and she didn’t like not understanding.

A crow flapped out of a tree, cawing, and she jumped. To cover her confusion, she went on the attack, folding her own arms, glaring.

“You know you can’t go strutting around impersonating your brother. My father is terrible with faces, but no one else would be taken in.”

“I’m handsomer.” Georgina’s smile spread. “I’m aware.”

She ignored this. “Why, though? Why do it at all?”

“I never had any intention of impersonating Harry. Your father came up with that on his own.”

“But you are wearing breeches.”

“I got into the habit in London, on the stage.”

“On the stage!” Elfreda gaped. “Is that how you got into so much trouble? Acting?”

“The acting hasn’t come to light, thank God. How do you know I got into trouble?” Georgina squinted. “I don’t imagine you read the scandal sheets. Not enough mildew.”

“Your friend, Miss Poskitt, told me.”

“Of course she did. What else did she say?”

A broken engagement. A duel. A curricle crash.

Elfreda wouldn’t be distracted. “You act men’s roles? In the theater?”

“I act as a man, in the theater.” Georgina leaned closer. “In daily life, I act as a woman, or as a man. Either. Sometimes neither. Sometimes both. It depends on various factors.”

Elfreda wasn’t chilled any longer. She felt too hot, her mind working, the efforts fast, furious, and futile. It was like being confronted with a page of text written in a language she couldn’t read.

“Maybe I’ll put on a private theatrical.” Georgina straightened. “Romeo and Juliet. We’ll take the title roles.”

Elfreda smiled thinly. More than four strangers in a room and her tongue locked in place. Georgina had witnessed her humiliations in countless parlors. She was mocking her now.

“My family dislikes your family.” Elfreda spoke in a brittle voice. “Your family dislikes my family. But I’d abhor you all the same if your surname was Mowbray or de Burgh.”