Divine (13 page)

It was just like Seb. It had taken her a month’s worth of pin money to buy his silence. Which he had used to purchase more dreadful novels for her. Just to have additional things to hold over her head.

Everything was a joke to him.

When other boys heckled him about hanging around her, he brushed it off. It was the same way he laughed away their teasing over his step-father’s sermons, his sister’s flirtatious beaus and his mother’s eccentrically large hats.

He was the boy with an irrepressible sense of humor who looked at the world as a grand lark. Nothing ruffling him.

Which was both good and bad.

He was easy-going to a fault. Nothing captured his emotions, focused whatever passion he may have. He was a good sort but lacked the emotional depth to make him truly interesting to her as an adult.

She gave a puzzled little frown.

Yet there was no sense of boy about him anymore. Sebastian fit comfortably into his own skin, shouldering power and authority like a well-worn coat. Becoming an earl had changed him somewhat. Or maybe it was serving in the army? Hadn’t he said something about rising to the rank of captain?

She was honest enough with herself to admit that the Georgiana of a few years ago might have married him. For someone in 1813, his reasons for proposing marriage were sensible and logical.

But she wasn’t that Georgiana any more. Not entirely. Facing death and spending time in the twenty-first century had changed her too much. Without the old earl’s silly will in the way, Georgiana was quite sure the issue of marriage would never have been brought up between them.

And even if she were to tell Sebastian about the last year of her life (and that was an enormous
if
), he would never fully understand her experiences there. A part of her would always be separate from him. Not that Shatner knew about her nineteenth century origins. Was she doomed to always keep a part of herself from any potential suitor?

It was
not
a comforting thought.

With a sigh, Georgiana tossed her tablet onto the counterpane and turned off the solar lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Weak moonlight drifted in through the open window.

Pushing to her feet, she looked out over the rolling hills, lumpy in the dim light. It was wonderful to be home but, without James here, the house felt empty.

No, not empty. Just hollow.

It was an odd kind of death in a way. Gone and yet not. Georgiana found herself suddenly swallowing against tightness in her throat.

She stared out into the darkness. The night was eerily quiet, broken only by the far off lowing of a cow. No light pollution glow from Hereford on the horizon. No hum of machinery or cars on the motorway. Just the faint chirp and rustle of natural things.

A soft breeze swished through the trees and stirred the hedges. Suddenly, a slight movement to the right of the garden caught her eye. Peering into the darkness, Georgiana thought she saw a moving shape. Squinting, she tried to make it out.

Without hesitation, she turned back to the room and dug into her trunk, pulling out her night vision goggles with a low cry of triumph.

How exciting to be able to use them so soon!

Giddily, she turned them on. Instantly, night became clearer shades of green-gray.

Training them on the garden, she skimmed around until she located a person furtively moving away from the house. The figure was wearing dark breeches, stealthily darting from bush to bush, crouching against the garden wall. Obviously intending not to be seen.

Even with her night vision goggles, she couldn’t make out the person’s features. The figure paused next to a flower urn on the garden wall and slipped something that flashed white under the violets in the pot. And then with a suspicious glance around, the person melted farther into the garden, disappearing from view.

A shiver of excitement shot down her spine. At
last
. Something to investigate.

With an eager grin, Georgiana turned back to the room, drew her dressing gown over her nightgown, grabbed a flashlight and dashed out of her bedroom.

Chapter 7

The great hall

Haldon Manor

A few minutes later on August 28, 1813

Birthday in minus 42 days

H
onestly, this just needed to stop.

Sebastian rubbed a weary hand over his face as he quietly crossed the great hall of Haldon Manor aiming to return to the guest wing and his bedchamber to hopefully (maybe) get some rest.

He had awakened from a deep sleep to find a cloaked figure slipping into his room. Fortunately, he had recognized Lady Ambrosia before mistaking her for an intruder and tackling her to the ground.

This made three.

Three times that she had stolen into his bed chamber in some ridiculous attempt to entrap him. Twice before with Mr. Snickers and now tonight without her dog.

It was a poorly thought out scheme. As a widow, she could not force a marriage by being caught alone with him. Her persistent presence only served to make him more wary of female-kind in general.

Of course, he had never cataloged
intelligence
as one of Lady Ambrosia’s strongest assets, either. He could only assume she had some sort of seduction in mind, not that he allowed her to remain long enough to find out.

He had firmly escorted her out a side door with some choice sharp words, most of which involved the legal ramifications of trespassing and a not-so-subtle threat to haul her before the magistrate, the tense whiteness of her face oddly gratifying. Maybe the seriousness of his tone had sunk in.

He had watched her disappear into the night, headed back to her room at the Old Boar Inn. Thank goodness Knight wasn’t housing her in Haldon Manor itself. Now all he wanted was a soft bed and undisturbed rest.

He padded quietly through the great hall, pulling his banyan a little tighter over his chest. Faint moonlight streamed across the parquet from the floor to ceiling bay windows to the right. As he neared the far end, he heard the rustle of fabric and slippered feet on the staircase ahead of him.

Not again.

Suppressing a groan, Sebastian darted behind the curtains lining the large windows. Why couldn’t they just leave him be?

Peering out, he saw a slim figure glide through the doorway, her white dressing gown glowing in the dim moonlight. The long, golden braid instantly identified her, even though a subliminal part of him had already known.

Georgiana
.

His heart whispered over her name.

Without thinking, he stepped out and grabbed her arm. She let out a small shriek and whirled on him with surprising speed, yanking down to break his grip and taking a swipe at his head with a cylindrical object she held.

Grinning, Sebastian ducked and let go of her arm, taking a quick step back and holding up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Her pale eyes flashed in the moonlight which shimmered through the window behind him. Her chest rose quickly in surprise. Like a kitten, bristling at some imagined threat.

She looked outrageously gorgeous or, well . . . at least gorgeous in her outrage.

“Sebastian,” she squeaked, swatting at his shoulder. “You nearly startled me out of my skin!”

“That was uproariously amusing,” he chuckled.

Her breath was still coming fast and hard, but she managed a little laugh.

“Seb, stop! My poor heart nearly tumbled out of my chest.”

Still chuckling, Sebastian leaned into her. “Never fear, my dear. Had that happened, I would have happily caught your heart and held it close to my own for safekeeping.”

Even in the dim moonlight, he could see the slight roll of her eyes.

“Give over, Sebastian. Is there ever a time of day when you are not an incorrigible flirt?”

Sebastian paused, as if pondering the thought.

“No,” he said, feigning reflection, edging even closer. “At least, not where you are concerned.”

She shook her head and, with a disbelieving lift of an eyebrow, took a pointed step back from him.

Clever girl.

“Was that you I just saw creeping through the back garden?” she asked.

He gave a puzzled look. “Me? Heavens, no.”

“Well, I saw someone creeping around the garden from my bedroom window and—”

She stopped as he shook his head.

“What is it?” she asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“Do you mean to tell me you saw someone out your window and immediately ran to investigate?”

“Of course. Why ever not?”

Sebastian nearly groaned. “Did you even stop to consider that it might be dangerous? That it might have been better to wake a footman and have him investigate?”

Georgiana’s mouth opened as if to say something and then a faint frown skittered across her face.

“No, actually, I didn’t,” she finally said. “Though there is no enjoyment in waking a footman. Why should I let someone else have the thrill of chasing down a culprit in the dead of night?”

Right. How could he have forgotten about
this
aspect of Georgiana’s personality?

Unbidden, memories flickered.

Georgiana leaning perilously over the edge of the Lyndenbrooke gatehouse, hand outstretched, tongue pinched between her lips. “Can’t you see it, Seb? That little piece of paper there? I bet it’s a love note. Now if I could only reach it . . .”

Georgiana whispering to him following church services. “I promise on my father’s grave, the shape
hovered
in the air. Hovered! We definitely need to investigate . . .”

Georgiana beckoning to him at the back gate, eyes lit with mischief. “I saw him again, that large scarred stranger who was chatting with Mrs. Young. I followed and found that he’s staying with the blacksmith. Meet me by the water trough at midnight. I have a plan . . .”

Sebastian shook his head, taking in a deep breath. She had always been far too eager to jump into trouble, taking him with her.

“Honestly, you and your mysteries—”

“Yes, well, I did see someone acting strangely in the garden just now and—”

“I am sure it was only Lady Ambrosia, as I am returning from escorting her outside.”

His whispered words echoed in the quiet room, the implication hitting them both.

Georgiana’s eyes widened, inquisitive.

“Indeed. I was unaware that she was your type. Was she wearing breeches by any chance?”

“No, just a muslin gown with her signature decolletage—”

“Does she visit you often at night?” Her voice a wonder of irony.

Again, not a trace of blush on her cheeks.

Sebastian felt the shock of her comment sink in. She
had
truly changed.

“It’s not what you think.” He managed a small startled laugh and briefly explained Lady Ambrosia’s persistent problem with being-where-she-wasn’t-supposed-to-be.

With a smile, he shook his head. “I was unaware that treatment for consumption also involved an expansive education in the ways of the world.”

Georgiana was silent at this, merely staring at him.

“I am four and twenty, Sebastian. Hardly the child you knew. I have lived life. You mock it, but I have survived a terrible illness and . . .” She paused, holding on to her braid and staring past him at the moonlit window behind.

He pondered her for a second.

“And your brother’s death. James,” he finished for her. “I am so sorry for your loss. I know you were close.”

She gave a brave smile at that, bringing her gaze back to him. She blinked once . . . twice, eyes bright.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing, “James was always the best of brothers to me. I miss him terribly. It’s hard to imagine a life without—”

She shook her head and let out a slow breath. Cleared her throat.

Changed the topic.

“Is this a constant problem for you? Women lying in wait in your bedchamber?”

Sebastian gave a rueful smile. “Well, somewhat. My hand in marriage is highly valued in
some
circles, particularly as I have less than two months to marry. Knowing this, enterprising women constantly try to entrap me somehow. Thank goodness Phillips is a most effective chaperone.”

Georgiana laughed, just as he knew she would. That bright, cascading sound that bubbled from within.

A man would sell his immortal soul for a lifetime full of such laughter.

She instantly covered her mouth to muffle the sound.

“Poor Captain Phillips. He is a good friend, though pity he isn’t here right now. I am sure that our current situation is quite perilously compromising.”

She gestured at the space between them, barely even an arm’s length.

Sebastian let out a surprised gust of air. “Yes, that is true. But there is a decided difference, you see. I actually
want
to marry you. So I have no problem with this.”

He mimicked her gesture, again bringing attention to the short distance that separated them.

With a start, Georgiana backed up a step, her eyes widening. Swallowed.

“True,” she whispered.

There ensued a fraught moment when neither spoke.