Mrs. Hemsley had appeared, as if summoned by instinct, with a tray of tea and a tart Georgina vaguely remembered mentioning two weeks ago. It sat mostly untouched.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Bainbridge arrived with wind-blown curls and a wrapped parcel of receipts. “I’m only staying until Barrington agrees that I was right,” she announced. “Then I’ll collect my victory and leave him to his ledgers.”
“You might be here a while,” Georgina murmured.
“Nonsense. He thrives on defeat. Especially mine.”
She swept toward the study with a flourish and a smile. Moments later, her voice could be heard declaring, “If he thinks dry biscuits will distract me from my accomplishment, he has severely underestimated my affection for lemon cake.”
He had meant only to bring her a fresh folio.
But when he entered the library and saw her half-curled on the carpet, chin propped on her hand, ink smudged on her wrist, and a faint smile lingering from some silent thought, he forgot the reason entirely.
“You look far too serious,” he said, drawing her gaze. “Are you decoding a secret treaty or counting how many times I nearly spilled the ink today?”
She grinned. “A bit of both.”
He dropped down beside her with a soft groan. “My back may never forgive me for this floor.”
“Shall I call for a cushion?”
“No,” he said, stretching out his legs. “Your company is cushioning enough.”
She laughed, unexpected and warm. And it hit him like sunlight after storm clouds.
He laughed too, shaking his head. “That sound… I’ve missed it more than I knew.”
“Laughter?”
“Yours.”
She faltered, not from uncertainty, but because it felt so tender. So real. There was a time she would’ve mocked such softness, called it fanciful or false. But not now.
“You have a gift, Georgina,” he said softly. “You make hard things bearable. And somehow, you still make me laugh when I least expect it.”
Her throat tightened. “It’s easy with you.”
He drew her closer, as if the space between them had become a thing to defy. “Then let it be easy. At least for now.”
Their lips met, finally, fully, not from hesitation, but from clarity. A sealing of something long understood but never named.
When they parted, it wasn’t from doubt, but from reverence, an unspoken promise neither was ready to voice, yet neither would let slip away.
He brushed his thumb gently along her jaw before standing, as if memorizing the feel of her smile.
They sat on the narrow garden bench just beyond the drawing room doors, the last amber light stretching across the lawn. The air was cool, but she didn’t feel it, not with his arm around her shoulders, not with the echo of that kiss still stirring between them like a vow.
Crickets sang in the hedgerows. The wind carried the scent of roses and sea.
Neither spoke at first. Words were too small.
She leaned into him, her hand resting lightly against his chest, where his heartbeat kept time with her own.
He looked out at the soft colors of the sky, then down at her. “Youonce said you didn’t believe that kind of love was real.”
She nodded, her cheek brushing the fabric of his coat. “I thought that kind of love was just something we told ourselves to keep hoping. I didn’t believe it was real.”
“And now?”
