Now, aren’t you curious about my fiancé?”
“Oh, of course!” Fiona seemed to realise she’d been rude not to ask earlier. Perhaps she regretted her tirade too. In a tone designed to be conciliatory, she urged, “Tell me all about him!” Before Georgina could answer, however, she had a new thought: “It’s not Mr Willoughby, surely?” Her face lit up. “Of course! That’s why you wanted to be re-assigned to Kirkby Grange! And to the Third Form! He is very distinguished looking. I like his moustache. But how like you to take on a man with only one leg. Have you seriously thought about what that means for—"
“Fiona.” Georgina cut her off, laughing. “Calm down and give me a chance to say something! It’s not Mr. Willoughby — or anyone else at the school. It’s Kit.”
Fiona looked blank.
“But — I thought — you said you’d broken off contact with him.” Fiona sounded bewildered.
“I did, for three months, and then I recognised what a terrible mistake I’d made. I asked him to meet me, and he agreed. It didn’t take us long to realise how we felt about each other. It was wonderful,” Georgina insisted, but Fiona was still gaping at her, making Georgina uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that? You just told me what a stubborn, pig-headed fool he was to ignore your advice. You can’t be jealous.”
Fiona shook herself out of her thoughts. “Jealous? No, of course not. But Georgina…. Didn’t you say he’d earned his wings and was back in Britain for operational training?”
“Yes. He’s at Lancaster Finishing School right now.”
“Oh Georgina! After the hell you went through when Don — how can you do this? I mean: to yourself?” Fiona’s gaze was beyond shock and disbelief; it was full of fathomless pity.
“Do you honestly believe,” Georgina countered in a slow, serious voice, “that just to save myself emotional pain — I should deny love to a good man? Especially one who may only have a few more weeks to live?”
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