*
Cecily and Mrs.Honeycutt were yawning by the end of their meal and left for bed, leaving James and Georgiana alone. She mentioned that she had more samples to show him, this time for the drawing room. Before he could stifle the impulse, he asked if she’d like to join him upstairs for a brandy while they looked through her suggestions.
“We can get the fire going in the study to keep out the chill.”
“Yes, why not? I’m not feeling tired enough to sleep,” Georgiana said. “I’m a night owl.”
“I am as well. All the years running the tavern ruined me for mornings.”
They went up the stairs and into the study. While he lit the fire, Georgiana poured them each a brandy. He brought two chairs and a coffee table close to the hearth. They smelled of dust but it was better than sitting on the floor. She took her portfolio from her desk and brought it over to the table.
She opened the swatch book. Beneath the flap of linen were layers of fabric samples, paper sketches, and watercolor renderings of color pairings. She brushed her hand over a pale duck-egg blue silk damask. “For the drawing room, you’d mentioned you’d like it to reflect the past. From what you’ve shared and what I’ve uncovered, I think I have a good idea of what to do.”
He nodded. When they’d talked about the drawing room, he’d shared with her his memories of what it had once looked like and asked that she bring it back.
“This was the original tone of the wall panels. It faded, of course, but I had one section removed from behind the hearth where it was better preserved. Do you like it? Or would you rather have some other color?”
“No, it’s exactly as I remembered it.”
“I thought we might restore the palette with this.” She held out the fabric for him to inspect. “The blue and gold complement each other, don’t you think?”
She showed him two coordinating trims. One was a braided silk, the other a masculine linen binding. He stared at them longer than she expected.
“Which do you like?” James asked.
“The linen binding suits you, I think.”
“How strange this all is. I’m flooded with memories.”
She hesitated, unsure what to say. “I can imagine being back here after all these years brings forth a myriad emotions.”
“Indeed it does. My mother chose every furnishing and decor herself when they first married,” James said. “After she died, my father kept everything the same.”
“How old were you when she passed?”
“She died giving birth to Sophia. I was only two. Sadly, I have no memories of her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sophia looks exactly like her,” James said, gesturing toward the oil painting of his mother hanging on the wall.
“She was beautiful.”
“My sister is too,” James said. “My brother and I are hoping to convince her to have a Season next year, like Cecily. Perhaps they will become friends.”
“That would be most welcome.”
“What did you hear about my family before you arrived here?” James asked.
“Only what was reported in the newspaper and gossip, of course. It was Cecily’s idea to approach you about the restoration. She’d heard that the younger of the Ashford brothers wanted to bring the family home back from ruin.”
“It was resourceful of you both.”
“No one knows what happened to you and your siblings after you left here and before your return. I have to confess to being curious.”
“Yes, well, it’s a sad tale. Are you sure you want to know?” James asked.
“I do.”
