When she laughed, it wasn’t guarded or polite. It was the kind of laugh that tipped her head back slightly, eyes shining with amusement she didn’t try to suppress.
“You do that,” he said, watching her.
“What?”
“Laugh like you mean it.”
“I suppose I do.”
She tucked her legs beneath her, more at home in her own skin than she could remember being in years. The book slid forgotten into her lap as the breeze ruffled a curl near her temple. Alex leanedforward and reached, carefully, to tuck it behind her ear. This time his fingers lingered at her shoulder, a soft touch that didn’t press nor withdraw.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away.
He withdrew his hand as if the contact had been a kind of promise, one he wasn’t yet ready to press. But he didn’t look away.
“I missed this,” she said, the words spoken as much to herself as to him.
He didn’t ask her to explain. “So did I,” he said simply, as if it were the most ordinary truth in the world.
Instead, he stood and offered his hand. “Come walk with me.”
She blinked. “Where?”
“It’s nowhere in particular. But if you’ll walk it with me, I’ll not ask for better.”
She took his hand, rising with the ease of someone who’d already decided. No question. No hesitation.
Just the feel of his fingers lacing with hers once more, and the sun spilling across the corridor as they stepped out together.
The sky outside had turned the color of washed copper by the time Georgina finished dressing. She stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, fastening the last amethyst earring with steady fingers. The stone caught the low light of the autumn afternoon, glowing with quiet confidence. Her gown was simple, a deep sapphire wool that fell gracefully and did not demand attention. She hadn’t chosen it to impress anyone.
And yet, as she glanced down to smooth the bodice, a smile played at her lips.
She crossed to her dresser and tucked the small velvet box of jewelry back into its corner, where her mother’s cameo and Rowland’s signet already lay. Then she picked up her shawl from the foot of the bed and made her way downstairs.
In the drawing room, Barrington stood by the hearth, swirling aglass of port as he spoke to Mrs. Bainbridge, who was examining the rows of books on the far wall. Alex leaned against the mantel, hands tucked into his trouser pockets, his posture relaxed but alert, the light from the fire painting his features in warm relief.
Three heads turned as she entered.
Only one pair of eyes made her breath catch. It was, absurdly, like a thread pulled taut between them.
Alex’s gaze swept over her, not in possession or astonishment, but in silent appreciation. As though he saw not just the woman before him, but everything she had endured and chosen to become. He said nothing. He didn’t need to.
“I see dinner is not merely an occasion for nourishment,” Barrington said, raising his glass. “You’ve brought decorum to a table sorely lacking it.”
Georgina inclined her head with mock solemnity. “You’re welcome.”
Mrs. Bainbridge sniffed. “You’re the only one in this house with an ounce of sense. I told him not to wear that waistcoat.”
“It’s a perfectly respectable waistcoat,” Barrington muttered.
“Only if one respects hay.”
Georgina bit back a laugh and accepted the arm Alex offered. His hand rested lightly at her waist as he guided her to the table, and though the touch was brief, it was grounding. Familiar, in a way that made her stomach warm.
Dinner was unhurried and abundant, roast pheasant, stewed apples with cinnamon, fresh bread, and a Stilton Mrs. Hemsley had declared “still fit to serve.” Conversation flowed easily, peppered with stories from London and subtle barbs traded between Barrington and Mrs. Bainbridge. Alex listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak, it was with that low, steady timbre that always made the room lean in.
Georgina, seated beside him, found herself watching his hands more than she intended to, taking in how they curled around awineglass, how one fingertip caught a drop of gravy before it could fall. It was not longing she wanted, not exactly, more like belonging.
