There was no urgency, no pretense. Just warmth, and truth, and something that felt a great deal like home.
She tasted warmth and wind, safety wrapped in the unraveling tension. He kissed her like he had always known what she meant to him and had only now earned the right to show it.
When they parted, it wasn’t because they had to, but because they both wanted this to last.
His forehead touched hers. “I wanted that for longer than I can say.”
“So did I,” she murmured, the words quieter than the breeze.
They didn’t speak for a long moment. The breeze moved gently through the yew’s branches, and their hands remained loosely joined. Georgina’s voice broke the quiet. “And now, Alex?”
Alex looked toward the horizon, then back at her. “Now we don’t look away.”
She drew a slow breath, leaning slightly into him. “I’m not afraid. But I’m also not used to wanting something this much.”
His hand tightened gently around hers. “Then we’ll get used to it together.”
She laughed softly, the sound curling like smoke in the still air. “That almost sounded like optimism.”
“Don’t tell Barrington,” he said, and she laughed again.
When they turned back toward the house, they didn’t rush. The night was quiet, and for the first time in weeks, so were they.
Later, after the house had gone quiet, Georgina stood by the window of her room, her cloak still on and her hands resting on the sill. She hadn’t lit the lamp. There was comfort in the shadows tonight. The kiss didn’t replay in sensation, but in stillness. The peace in her chest startled her more than his touch. Love had once arrived as a negotiation. This time, it asked for nothing. And she let it stay.
There had been no hesitation in his hands. And in his eyes, nothing but quiet certainty. It was real. She hadn’t meant to fall so easily. And now that she had, she didn’t intend to let him go.
A knock sounded faintly below, boots on the stone floor, and voices too low to decipher. Then nothing. She stayed at the window for a moment longer. Finally, she turned. There was work to do. She changed out of her cloak, lit the lamp, and gathered the remaining pages of Rowland’s ledger. When she stepped into the study an hour later, the scent of ink and coal dust met her like a memory.
Now, she knew what she was working toward.
Alex and Barrington stood shoulder to shoulder over the long table. Georgina had laid out the folio’s newest contents, duplicate manifests, mismatched delivery stamps, shipping logs that led nowhere and everywhere.
“This is more than concealment,” Alex said, tracing a trade route that looped back on itself. “This is choreography. Elegant. Ruthless.”
“And sprawling,” Barrington added. “They’ve built a network under our noses.”
Georgina moved beside them, eyes narrowed. “It’s not just about hiding. It’s about control.”
Alex caught the way Barrington’s eyes shifted toward Georgina for the briefest moment. He didn’t comment, but the line of his jaw softened as if something had clicked into place for him. Alex felt it too. The shift, the certainty. Not just strategy anymore. Something closer to belief.
A long moment passed. Then Barrington looked at Alex. “We can’t keep bouncing between houses. This war’s being fought here.” He paused, eyes scanning the ledgers again. “Rowland left behind more than clues. He gathered intelligence, organized, detailed, damning intelligence.” He turned to Georgina. “And he put it all in your hands. The Order has no idea what he gathered and what we have. And we dare not move it. Not now. Not with eyes watching.”
“Then stay,” she said, quietly but without hesitation. “We’ll hold the line from here.”
“She was right,” Alex replied.
“We’re fortunate it’s the weekend. It will look like any other country house party, though our entertainments may run more to ledgers than lawn games.” Georgina chuckled and turned to Barrington. “We’ll have to ask Mrs. Bainbridge to join us.”
Barrington gave a dry huff of agreement. “If she isn’t already on her way.”
Alex allowed himself a half-smile. The war might still be coming for them, but tonight, they had a plan, a home base, and the beginnings of something more than strategy.
And just outside the library window, the dark settled softly around Ravenstock Manor, keeping its quiet vigil over the future they had begun to claim.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun dippedjust low enough to cast the drawing room in honeyed light, long shadows sliding across the floor like quiet sentinels. Georgina stood near the hearth, one hand resting lightly on the mantle, the other curled around a cup of cooling tea.
