Kitty has been deposited on a couch in the drawing room. Lord George has stayed to supper and as soon as it was polite, joined her in the drawing room.
Standing by the fireplace he watched her with what she'd come to recognize as a habitual grin. Normally she would have fussed and fidgeted, but the slightest movement incurred a biting pain.
"I believe you are the most fetching patient Mr. Wilson has had these past few months," Lord George offered as a conversation starter. "I overheard him tell your father that all he treats lately are red coated soldiers with broken noses and twisted shoulders from holding their muskets the wrong way and not learning when to duck."
"I would rather the injuries happen here than on French soil," Kitty said, thinking about the young men who would never return to Meryton. Maria Lucas worried constantly about her brother Jonathan as they hadn't heard from him in over a month.
At one time Kitty fancied herself in love with the tall, lanky boy, not hard to do when they were such close neighbours, but he never saw her in the same light. Over time and few shed tears she learned to treasure their friendship and when he'd enlisted, she'd added him to her daily prayers along with Lydia, Elizabeth, Jane and Georgiana.
"There are many who live for the day that L'Corse is defeated," Lord George muttered, the muscles along his jawline clenching as his lips formed a thin line.
There were bitter tones laced throughout that statement and she was filled with curiosity at his brief display of emotion.Check out other participants in Weekend Writing Warriors HERE.