As the day unfolded, the rhythm surprised them both. There were shared tasks with notes deciphered, ledgers compared, and timelines aligned. Barrington retreated to the study with a frown and a stack of papers, muttering about inconsistencies in shipping ledgers.
“If I’m not back before dinner, send a search party,” he’d said dryly, disappearing behind the study doors. “And bring tea. Strong. Or I’ll be asleep with my eyes open.”
“We’ll send Kenworth in full armor,” Alex had replied, earning a rare snort from Barrington.
Mrs. Bainbridge swept through the room moments later, cheeks pink from the wind, a portfolio under her arm. “Don’t mind me,” she said breezily. “I’ve brought three decisions Barrington needs to make before sunset. If he refuses, I’ll declare war. With lemon cake.” She winked and vanished into the study.
Kenworth moved through the house with quiet efficiency, ensuring the perimeter was secure. Neither Alex nor Georgina had requested that he stand guard, but they silently appreciated his efforts. At some point, he reappeared with news from the village. “The outer roads are quiet. One of the stationers reported someone asked about freight routes. They described him as a tall man, with a dark coat andheavy boots, but no one matching that description has returned,” he said. “No signs of watchers, but I’ve doubled the patrol.”
Georgina thanked him, and Alex nodded his approval. “Keep a sharp eye, Kenworth. And let us know if anything feels off.”
The valet inclined his head. “Always, sir. Does that include when Mrs. Bainbridge arrives? I have it on good authority that she is coming armed with receipts, triumph, and a poorly veiled agenda.”
Alex raised a brow. “Should we prepare for battle?”
“I already warned Cook,” Kenworth said dryly. “She’s doubled the lemon glaze.” He paused, then added, “Shall I let Cook know the two of you will be dining here or in the library again? She’s determined not to repeat last night’s confusion with the tray.”
Georgina glanced up from the folio. “The library, I think. But perhaps let her know to keep something warm. We may lose track of time again.”
Kenworth bowed. “Very good, my lady. And if I may add, if there’s to be another walk after supper, I suggest you take one of the lanterns. Last night’s misplaced candlestick caused quite a stir among the footmen.”
After Kenworth departed, Alex caught Georgina watching him over the edge of the folio.
“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll crease the parchment,” Alex said at one point, glancing over at Georgina with a sideways smile.
“And if you keep sighing like that, you’ll wear out the ink,” she shot back, lips twitching.
He leaned in. “You have a remarkably sharp tongue for someone who mislabeled two entries this morning.”
She feigned offense. “I was testing you.”
“And I passed?”
“Barely.”
They shared the long table for most of the afternoon, tracing the links between suppliers, decoding abbreviations, and occasionallydebating the merits of Alex’s penmanship.
Somehow, decoding ledgers with him was like learning a language she hadn’t known she missed, the language of being seen.
As they worked side by side, Georgina found herself listening for his breath between the rustle of parchment and the scratch of quill. It was something quieter. Steadier. A rhythm she’d been missing.
Once, when he rose to cross the room for more parchment, she looked up and found herself watching him, not as a partner in investigation, but as a man she had come to know without defenses. And when he looked back and smiled without question, the smallest part of herself relaxed.
When he read a pompous letter aloud in a ridiculous voice, she laughed, sharp and sudden and real. It lit something unnamed and unguarded inside her.
Alex watched her in profile as she bent over a ledger, sunlight catching the edge of her brow. The furrow between her eyes, the slight purse of her lips, he’d seen officers glare at maps the same way before battle. But she was no soldier. She was something rarer: someone who still believed that truth was worth chasing. And being beside her made it easier to believe in things he’d long since buried.
Georgina teased him when he nearly spilled ink across the margin of a delicate ledger. Alex retaliated by returning to the pompous letter from a shipping clerk, reading it aloud with such exaggerated inflection that Georgina’s laughter rang out, bright and unexpected.
“You’re a menace,” she said, dabbing her eyes.
“But an entertaining one,” he replied.
He poured more tea for them both, and when her fingers brushed his, she didn’t retreat. Neither did he. The contact was brief, but the pause after it lingered.
Later, they moved into the library. He offered her a book, one of Rowland’s, full of marginal notes and thoughtful commentary. She teased him for reading the end before the beginning, and he counteredby reading a passage aloud with such dramatic flair that she laughed until she couldn’t catch her breath.
They ended side by side on the carpet, surrounded by old maps and worn ledgers, cross-referencing port records. At some point, their fingers brushed again, and this time, they stayed. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. The silence held.
