places. Gossiping with store clerks could be very enlightening. She took pity on Peter and patted his arm reassuringly.
"You go on. I'll just take a few more pictures before Blucher arrives. The nice man at the door will tell me when he's here."
Peter looked relieved, and after a hasty farewell left her with the admonishment not to touch another stepladder. Georgina hummed softly to herself as she set up her next shot. The poor man had no clue, after all. It was his own fault, though. He should never underestimate the power of a woman.
Georgina found Mr. Martin leaning against a lamppost and reading a newspaper when she came out. She gave him a big grin and took his elbow, leading him toward the waiting carriage, much to the disapproval of Blucher, who looked on.
"I could go in there every day and do whatever I like and no one would think twice about it. I've already talked to half the clerks for you, but I couldn't take notes or it would raise too many suspicions. So you'll have to rely on my memory. I'll write it all down tonight."
Mr. Martin handed her into the carriage. "Give me your plates and I'll develop them. If we're taking shots of the women at home, we will have to do it on Sunday. I can't take you to those neighborhoods in the evening."
"It seems to me if you can go there, I can go there," she pointed out, knowing the impracticality of the protest. She couldn't go anywhere without a proper escort in the evening. And she had the feeling that her father wouldn't consider this man a proper escort.
Daniel gave her a grin that was impossible to argue with. "I want to issue my first edition on Wednesday. Hurry up with those notes. I can have the piece written before we go visiting on Sunday. Then all I'll have to do is lay it out and set the type. Be nice to that boyfriend of yours."
Georgina stuck her tongue out at him and signaled BIucher to pull away.
Be nice to Peter, indeed. After next Wednesday she doubted if he would ever speak to her again.
Unless Mr. Martin had some devious plan for protecting her from his wrath. And the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that he had. He looked entirely too sure of himself.
Chapter 6
"You've just come home from church, Georgina. I don't understand why you have to go out again. You know we are to be at the Higgins's for dinner, and we're to attend the church social afterward. You should be lying down and resting so you'll look your best instead of dashing off with that"—Dolly Hanover gave the camera in her daughter's hand a horrified look—"that dangerous piece of equipment."
Had her mother chastised her in the normal tone of an angry parent, Georgina could have brushed it off without a qualm. Instead, her mother was worrying at the beads around her high-necked dress and whispering in a tone of dread, an almost certain prelude to another "episode."
It was a form of emotional blackmail that Georgina recognized easily now that she had returned from an extended absence. When she was younger, she had always succumbed at the first sign that her mother was on the verge of a "spell." She resisted now, but not without pangs of guilt. When her mother retreated to her room and pulled the shades, her father was desolate, and Georgina always carried the knowledge that it was all her fault.
And it was going to be her fault again this time, but her shoulders were wider now. If her parents wanted to dump the blame on her, let them. She had other things to do, and saving her future was one of them.
Gently, she kissed her mother's paper-thin cheek. "I shall sleep in the carriage, Mama, and I will be back in plenty of time for you to help me find the right gown. Peter will be there this evening, and I shall want to look my best."
Her mother looked only slightly mollified, but she raised no other objection as Georgina hurried off. Dolly Hanover never raised real objections, never protested, never got angry. She simply accepted whatever came her way and retired to her room when she could no longer deal with it. Georgina supposed she ought to feel sorry for her mother. Mostly, she felt fury. That wasn't the kind of life she meant to lead.
She was humming and