His gaze flicked away, briefly. “It was sudden.” He offered nothing more.
“Your husband’s holdings are handled here. As are mine.” His voice was rougher than she remembered. Deeper. Like coal dragged through velvet.
The solicitor entered before awkwardness could thicken.
“Ah, Lady Ravenstock, Lord Hawkesbury. How fortunate. You both have matters to settle regarding adjoining estates. Perhaps we might speak together?”
Georgina blinked. “Together?”
Weld gave her a wry glance. “It seems fate has a sense of humor, or a cruel imagination”
“The matter concerns the jointly held parcel at Ashdown Hill,” Mr. Hughes said, thumbing through a thin stack of documents.
“Jointly held?” Georgina looked from Hughes to Alexander in surprise.
Mr. Hughes frowned as he shuffled the remaining papers. “Curious. There should be a transfer of trust documents here as well. LordRavenstock had requested it be drawn up separately from his will.” He lifted his head and glanced at Georgina. “A precaution, he called it.”
Weld’s brow darkened. “And it is missing?”
“So it seems,” Hughes admitted, troubled as he searched through the papers again. “Your father’s copy resolves the joint use of the mine, but the question of Lady Ravenstock’s legal stewardship of her late husband’s holdings remains… incomplete.”
Georgina tilted her head, keeping her tone neutral. “Then I expect we must search the estate records more thoroughly.”
“Yes, it includes grazing land, timber rights, and the Ashdown Hill Mine. However, I must confess that there is no final agreement on record.”
“Are you certain, Mr. Hughes?” Georgina was still in shock.
“It is uncommon, but not unheard of, for such parcels to benefit both estates, provided the parties remain amenable.”
Weld’s brow furrowed. “There should be a document.” He reached inside his coat, and withdrew a folded parchment. “My father kept meticulous records,” he added, passing it across the desk.
Mr. Hughes unfolded it, his eyes brightening. “Remarkable. This appears to settle matters precisely.”
Georgina leaned closer, her gaze flicking from the solicitor to Weld. “I recall my husband mentioning this, but I hadn’t realized the agreement was so well-preserved.” She met Weld’s eyes, a note of quiet appreciation in her voice. “Your father’s diligence serves us both, my lord.”
Weld offered a faint, wry smile. “For once, I find myself grateful for his obsession with detail.”
An hour later, papers signed and tempers mostly intact, they stepped out into the sunlight.
“Would you allow me to buy you a cup of tea?” Weld asked, not quite looking at her. “For old times’ sake.”
She hesitated. Then: “Yes… Why not?”
As they walked, Georgina noted the way townsfolk greeted Alex with quiet deference, their nods and brief glances, a silent acknowledgement of his new position. Had they always regarded him so, or was it the mantle of responsibility that now draped across his shoulders?
Once, they laughed over sweet rolls and squabbled over poetry in the Ravenstock library. Now he bore a title, a weight, a hush of respect wherever he walked. She studied him with quiet interest, wondering what years of command and loss had shaped him to be.
They continued toward the tea shop near the harbor, and the damp haze that had shrouded the morning began to lift.
The lane to the harbor sloped gently, worn smooth by years of salt air and boot heels. Georgina walked at an unhurried pace.
She stole a glance at Alex, not overt, but enough to note the changes time had carved. The rigid lines of his youth had eased, though his mouth still seemed a fraction too serious for a spring morning.
“You haven’t changed as much as I expected,” she said lightly, her eyes ahead.
“Nor you,” he replied. “Though when I saw your name listed among the estate matters, I half-feared you might have turned into a mercenary, descending upon my holdings with a pack of solicitors.”
Her brow arched, amused despite herself. “What a flattering impression.”
