Georgie had sat up in bed, and she looked at her as tears started in her eyes. “Oh, Bertha!” she said brokenly, and she began to cry in earnest. “He’s gone, Bertha!” she wept. “I’ll never see him again!”
Bertha held her as she cried, patting her shoulder and murmuring comforting things. “There, there, Miss Georgie. It’s not the end of the world. You knew he was never going to stay for long.”
“But I love him!” she cried.
“Of course you do, “ Bertha said. “Anyone could see that. But no butler is going to marry the young lady of the house.”
“He’s not just a butler.”
“No, we could all see that. But he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”
That bleak truth should have sent her off in waves of fresh tears, but for some reason, it dried them. She’d mourned long enough. Now it was time to do something.
She pushed her tangled hair away from her face. “I’ll come down,” she said wearily. “What are we celebrating? I hope it’s Norah’s upcoming marriage to Andrew Salton.”
“That’s not what they’re celebrating, you silly goose,” Bertha said fondly. “They’re celebrating the money.”
“What money?” Georgie echoed.
“Goodness me, you mean to tell me you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Your family’s come into a fortune,” Bertha said. “Your mother’s spent the last two weeks shopping and it hasn’t put a dent in it.”
“Came into a fortune? How?” She sat up straight in the rumpled bed.
“It was up on the roof, of all places! Master Neddy found it. He figures it must belong to the old judge who once owned this place, but since he was a criminal and died without heirs, he said he’s keeping it.”
“He can’t!” Georgie protested. “That was Rafferty’s money.”
‘I don’t think so, Miss Georgie. He left after Master Neddy found it and he made no mention of taking any. He was just anxious to be gone. But see, you do have something to celebrate. There was a fortune hidden in that chimney pot—who would have ever thought such a thing?”
“Who would?” Georgie echoed. She pushed the covers off her legs and swung them around. “I’m getting up.”
‘Thank the Lord,” Bertha said.
“Don’t thank him just yet. I’m going after Rafferty.”
For a moment, Bertha said nothing. And then she grinned. “You find him, lass, and teach the man a lesson or two.”
“Don’t worry,” she said grimly. “I will.”
Two days later
“Do you suppose she’ll convince him?” Neddy said, as he watched the elegant carriage disappear into the London traffic.
“I gave them clear instructions to the house in Hampshire,” Martina replied. “If anyone can change Rafferty’s mind, it’s Georgie. He’s in love with her and he just won’t admit it, and Georgie’s not going to settle for anything less. I’m surprised you don’t mind.”
“His connections have a lot to recommend him,” Neddy drawled. “And I’ve broadened my opinion on suitable alliances. Which brings me round to a question.”
Martina’s stomach tightened in a knot. She’d known this was coming—they were growing closer and closer, and the truth couldn’t be put off for much longer. He’d be horrified, disgusted, and her heart would be broken. Rafferty had warned her, but she’d fallen in love with the drunken little boy anyway. Not so drunken—he hadn’t touched the bottle in weeks, and seemed to have no interest in it. Weeks of talking, and playing cards, and flirting, and kissing. Weeks of her lies.
“Oh, don’t ask me questions,” she said brightly, trying to avoid the inevitable. “We’ve just got George safely off to claim her true love—I don’t want to worry about anything else.”
“Nothing to worry about, my dear,” Neddy said. “It’s easy enough. You know I’ve bought a house on Clarges Street. I want you to come along with me and be its mistress.”
Martina kept the distressed expression from her face. “You mean be your housekeeper?”
