“Not today.” Her lips curved slightly, “Soon. I would rather beginwith what you can show me, not what numbers might conceal.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile but close. “Then I will show you.”
They slowed near the doors to the gardens, where the late sun caught the leaves in a soft golden haze. Georgina’s gaze swept over the tangled roses that had once been her mother-in-law’s pride. Now, they were overgrown and wild.
“I left all of this for London,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought I could turn my back on it, as if it had no claim on me.”
His answer was quiet, but beneath the gentleness was something solid. “It was never the land that failed you, Georgina. Only the men who believed it belonged to them alone. You just weren’t given a place in it until now.”
She cast him a brief glance, surprised by the quiet conviction in his voice. There was no judgment in it, only understanding. And something else. A willingness to see her as she was, not as others expected her to be.
She turned to him then, fully, no longer glancing, no longer guarded. For the first time, she truly saw him. Not the title, not the role he played, but the man who had stood beside her in silence and danger and had asked for nothing in return. No deflection, no polite evasion. Only the truth between them.
“Not all men,” she said, and though her words were soft, they struck clean and true.
He paused, then inclined his head, as if accepting the quiet challenge in her remark. “No,” he agreed, his voice roughened by something more than mere conversation. “Not all men.”
Their gazes held a moment longer, not as adversaries, not quite as old friends, but as two people seeing each other clearly at last, after too many years of shadows.
Then, with a slow breath, he turned toward the front hall. “I should leave you to the rest of your day,” he said, though something inhis tone suggested reluctance.
“I do have a house to tame,” Georgina replied, allowing a thread of humor to soften her words. “Mrs. Hemsley will have no patience for me wandering around idle.”
“If you wish,” Alex said, pausing as they reached the door, “I can send copies of the mining ledgers. You may read them at your leisure.”
“I would prefer,” she said, lifting her chin a fraction, “to read them with you.”
His brows rose slightly, and there was a smile, not faint or fleeting this time, but real. “Then I shall bring them myself,” he promised.
Her chest lifted slightly. It wasn’t just what he said, but how easily he offered it. How naturally he included her now. Not a concession. A choice.
She watched him go. Only after the door had closed did she rest her fingers on the windowpane.
An invitation offered and accepted.
Georgina let her hand drop from the windowpane and drew a quiet breath. The stillness of the house was less oppressive now, as if the air itself had shifted. She turned from the front hall and made her way back toward the drawing room, her steps slow but steady. By the time she reached the doorway, her posture was composed, but the echo of that conversation still warmed her thoughts.
“Mrs. Bainbridge, my lady,” Mrs. Hemsley announced from the threshold. “She’s just arrived.”
Georgina turned. “Show her in, please.”
Mrs. Bainbridge entered with purpose, removing her gloves with practiced ease as she surveyed the room. Her gaze swept over the furnishings, the light, and finally Georgina herself. She missed nothing.
“I hope I’m not intruding.” Mrs. Bainbridge’s tone was light but purposeful. “I thought to stop by on my way to the seminary. My puzzle solver has taken a keen interest in that box, though it appears to have bested her for now.”
Georgina offered a proper smile this time, genuine, if a touch surprised. “Come in. I was just—”
“—Thinking,” Honoria filled in, settling into one of the chairs without being asked. “That’s what your expression says. Thinking about what?”
Georgina eased into a nearby seat. “Sit with me. You’ve barely told me a word about your wedding.”
“Oh, I have dozens of opinions and not a single final decision. Barrington is no help. The man would wed in his greatcoat if I let him. He thinks floral arrangements are a military campaign. And he’s losing.” She leaned back with a sigh. “And now the innkeeper is pressing us to rent the entire Rosalynde Bay Inn, lest the guests scatter into scandal before the cake is cut.”
Georgina laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “I suspect the scandal is half the reason some are attending.”
Honoria’s smile curved knowingly. “Naturally. Why else endure a weak punch and wilted roses?”
The warmth between them lingered a moment longer. An ease not often found in Georgina’s days. But it ebbed as Mrs. Hemsley stepped into the doorway, her voice low but composed.
