The transformation ofRavenstock Manor had been swift but subtle. The drawing room was no longer a space for formal callers or idle embroidery. Ledgers lay open on the long table beside trade maps and shipping manifests. The fire in the hearth burned low, and candlelight pooled in glass dishes to hold back the creeping dusk. What had once been a house of grief now moved with quiet purpose.
Georgina sat at the corner of the long table, sleeves pushed up, a stack of notes at her elbow. Across from her, Alex read through a report from Seaton, his brow furrowed in concentration. He hadn’t spoken in some time, but she didn’t mind. Their silence had settled into something companionable. The rhythm of paper, ink, and breath.
She reached for the teapot and refilled his cup without asking. He looked up briefly and murmured, “Thank you,” his voice low, as though the moment deserved quiet. Then he returned to the report.
Her gaze lingered a moment longer. The firelight cast him in amber, drawing out the blue in his eyes and the sharp lines of his jaw. He looked tired. But not in the way he had before, this was not the weariness of battle or loss. This was a different kind of weariness. The kind born of doing what mattered. She recognized it because it mirrored her.
Sometimes, she thought she could almost see the boy he must have been, the one she had missed knowing, and the man war had shaped in his place. The thought made her chest ache.
“You missed supper,” she said quietly.
“Did I?” He glanced at the clock and frowned. “You didn’t eat either.”
She offered a wry smile. “Mrs. Hemsley left us both a tray in the library. It may be cold by now.”
He set the report aside. “Let’s see if anything survived.”
They left the drawing room and crossed the hall together. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that came from being watched over. Barrington’s men kept to the periphery, their presence not seen. Kenworth had lit the sconces and vanished.
As they passed the corridor, Mrs. Hemsley stepped out, wiping her hands on a linen towel. “I’ve put dinner in the library,” she said, pausing only briefly. “The dining room was too… formal tonight.”
Georgina nodded. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Hemsley gave her a small smile, then turned to Alex. “I’ve also moved your things into the east wing, my lord. Lord Barrington’s valet insisted on arranging the boots himself. I locked the cabinet just in case.”
“In case, Mrs. Hemsley?” Alex asked.
“In case he gets an idea that the rest of the cabinet needs rearranging, my lord.” She nodded respectfully.
Georgina raised an eyebrow. “You’re assuming they’re staying?”
“They didn’t say it,” Mrs. Hemsley replied with a knowing glance, “but I heard it just the same.”
She disappeared down the hall, leaving behind the scent of lavender and a faint sense that everything was now properly in motion.
In the library, the tray waited on a sideboard, the lids still warm to the touch. Bread, cheese, and a stew that had gone tepid but not unpleasant. Georgina poured fresh tea while Alex uncovered the plates.
The smell brought with it an odd sense of comfort. A domestic moment was stolen from war planning.
They sat at the low table beside the hearth, and, for a while, they ate in silence.
Then she said, “You were right. About moving operations here. I feel safer.”
He looked at her, not in surprise, but with something closer to relief. “Good. That was the intent.”
She reached for a slice of bread. “And yet, there’s something about this that doesn’t feel like hiding. We’re not retreating. We’re… concentrating.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Exactly.”
Their eyes met. She didn’t look away.
A knock shattered the calm.
Alex was on his feet in an instant, every muscle taut, moving before his thoughts could catch up. Georgina rose more slowly, her instinct alert but shaped by the closeness to danger, not training. At the door, Kenworth stood with one hand on the knob, the other resting lightly near the pistol at his belt.
“It turned out to be harmless,” he said. “A loose shutter in the west corridor. It sounded worse than it was.” He gave a small nod. “The grounds are secure.”
Alex didn’t immediately relax.
