The Kiss (36 page)

"I appreciate your advice, sir. But I, like you, seem to be much better at giving advice than receiving it." Quinn stroked his roughened jaw. "Suffice it to say that there are some things that can never be altered, and I'm afraid Georgiana's heart is one of them."

A flicker of something appeared in Mr. Brown's eyes. "That, sir, is the first bit of sense you've uttered this last half hour. And the last thing I'll dare to say is that you're going about it all wrong. Forget those posies you left at Little Roses. That might have worked for Rosamunde. No—don't worry, I'm the only one who saw you." He shook his head and leaned in. "It's the birdies she likes. Did you never think about that? The gamekeeper told me he has always been in awe of Georgiana. He said he'd never known a little girl who loved animals so much or had such a way with them— almost as much as
you
once did apparently, but
your cousin
did not."

Quinn rose quickly. "I would ask you not to bring my cousin into this."

"But he's already in it. I've no' figured out what he did to you, but he sits on your shoulder guiding your actions every hour of every day. Pardon me, I would leave you now. I've overstepped and really perhaps you shouldna take too seriously advice from an old man who has wasted his life chasing an impossible dream."

A quiet wellspring of happiness bloomed in Georgiana's breast just short of a fortnight after removing to Trehallow. She gazed at the handsome profile of her brother, and the identical yet aged profile of her father as two of the three of them worked the soil in her new kitchen garden. Their father sat in the cool sunshine of autumn, watching them toil.

She was content, happier than she'd been in months, and she knew why. She was no longer stuck in a place where she did not belong, in a house pretending to be a proper marchioness. And she no longer had to worry about running into Quinn, or worse—Quinn arm in arm with Grace.

Joy had seeped back into her as she worked with the farm animals. She had helped the shepherd gather the new flock of sheep. She had overseen the activities in the dairy barn, where the calming clouds of fogged breath of the animals on a cold morning greeted her. And she even enjoyed the little grunts of welcome from the pigs when the slops arrived, the nickers from the horses when she brought grain, and the head butts of the goats seeking her out. She felt at home and at ease again. Her confidence returned, and she was ... happy.

She sat back on her heels.

"I see I worried for no reason," Grayson said quietly. 'And for that I'm so thankful."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You. Father. Everyone. Georgie, it's so good to see you happy." He stopped digging. "Your letters terrified me more than the cannon."

"I'm sorry. But, I was so concerned about Father. I wanted you to come before he . . . but miraculously, he is better. I tried not to alarm you, but obviously I failed."

"It was the rational, collected nature of your letters that put the fear of God in me. You can't imagine how much I prayed for strong winds to carry me home."

"I'm so glad you're here." She would not tell him how much she wished him never to leave again. She knew how much he loved the sea and his new life. She watched as he resumed expertly planting a line of spinach.

"It's funny, Georgiana. When the ship set sail eighteen months ago, I was delighted to remove the dirt from my fingernails. And now, here with you and Father, I have never been so content to see dirt on my hands again." He was looking at his palms and smiling. "And by setting sail, I also learned two other important things."

"Yes?"

"First, I will never like fish."

She smiled.

"And second, there is nothing worth seeing beyond here." He shook his head. "I learned that I'm just like you, Georgiana, much to my chagrin. I was mistaken in thinking there was something important I was missing beyond the edge of nowhere."

"I know that feeling, Grayson."

"Well, let me spare you the trouble of finding out that there is nothing beyond Cornwall that will truly make you happier than you already are."

"Such a change of heart," Georgiana said. "I've heard sailors say that they are never so happy to return home as well as to return to sea."

"Well, perhaps you're right, but this midshipman has decided that only the first part of that sentiment holds any truth." Grayson picked a large stone from the earth and tossed it into a nearby rock pile. "I'm not returning to sea, Georgie. I have to face the uncomfortable task of speaking to His Grace, who was so kind to secure the berth for me."

"You might change your mind ... or Luc might change it for you."

He laughed. "Are you trying to get rid of me already? And here I thought you wanted me to never—"

He couldn't finish his sentence because she had moved quickly to tackle him sideways with an embrace. "I'll never let you leave now. God, how I missed you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Georgie." He chuckled and his warm brown eyes gazed into hers. "And I've discovered something quite delightful since my return."

"What is that?"

"I've finally grown taller than my older sister and gained the advantage."

"Don't you dare—" she began, and then was lost in a hail of giggles as he tickled her.

"I've many years retribution due," he warned.

Grayson's laughter and her shrieks brought a warm, secret smile to their father's face. "Geor-giana and Grayson, come sit beside me."

They immediately stood up, brushed the dirt from their clothes, and went to him.

"Did I hear rightly?" A smile decorated his thin face. "Are you quitting the Royal Navy, my son?"

Grayson hesitated and they all watched the orange tabby cat prowl in the nearby hedgerow.

"What?" Their father prodded. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Father," Georgiana said laughing. "Don't you dare. You know how much he hates puns. And if you start he might change his mind."

Grayson smiled. "I see you're still living under the cat's paw, Papa."

Their father smiled broadly and extracted a rumpled list from his pocket. "Now then, since Grayson has decided to stay on, I have a short list of things to do before—"

"Oh God," Grayson said, shaking his head, "not the list. Please, no lists. I'd forgotten all about—"

Georgiana pulled another list from her own pocket. "Actually, Father, I had wanted to discuss the ditch in the—" She burst out laughing when she looked at her brother's expression of horror.

Their father scratched his head. "You'd best start trimming quills yourself, Grayson. If my hunch is correct, you'll be making lists of your own in short order. Don't be surprised if Quinn Fortesque comes scratching on our door with a fine offer to keep you in catnip and cream if you'll consider taking on Penrose."

Georgiana darted a glance at her father and frowned. "But Grayson's only just returned. Surely he won't—"

"Just as long as there are no fish involved, I'd very much consider it," Grayson interrupted. He glanced sidelong at her. "Well, you didn't think I'd stay here and take orders from you, did you?"

She forced a smile to her lips. "I see you really can teach an old dog new tricks."

"When pigs fly," her father added thoughtfully.

Both his children groaned.

Chapter 19

Luck. It was amazing how poor Georgiana's blasted luck was on occasion. She'd never heeded all the superstitious advice Rosamunde's sister Sylvia, who was married to the handsome vicar in the village, had told her to follow. And Rosamunde was forever telling her that her own negligence in observing the old Cornish proverbs had led to a former decade of misery. And so Georgiana could only blame herself for being in the unfortunate position of having to return to Penrose unexpectedly.

Georgiana looked at the grains of salt she had spilled on the table in Penrose's elegant dining room, threw them over her left shoulder, and said a prayer for good measure.

"Fairleigh," she muttered, "are you certain Grace isn't feeling well enough to join us?"

"No. She said her head felt like a huge pumpkin." The little girl piled three muffins onto her plate, unperturbed by Georgiana's ill ease. "And Papa said it would be better for her to wait one more day before they leave."

Quinn and Grace were supposed to have been gone by the time Georgiana arrived to collect Fairleigh. Georgiana would have sent a carriage for Fairleigh, but her father had given her a long list of things to do at Penrose—from retrieving an endless number of books Quinn was lending him to arranging several cartloads of hay, a bin of corn, three sacks of grain ... and the list went on.

She was to do it all and return the next morning with Fairleigh. She sighed. So much for her overly dramatic recent good-bye to Penrose. Would she never be free of the place?

"Are the babies any better?" Fairleigh asked, while slathering an inordinately large amount of butter on one of the muffins.

"I saw Ata yesterday and she said the fevers had broken." She didn't add that the dowager had also suggested it was actually the duke who required the most care. He had been beside himself since the moment Caro and Henry had first sneezed a week ago.

"Will Ata and Sarah and Elizabeth be at Trehallow when we arrive tomorrow?"

"I don't know, dearest. Ata's note said she might come here, now that the babies are better. She wants to see how Grace fares."

"Well, she better come very early tomorrow morning, because Grace said she and Papa were going to leave no matter how ill she was." The little girl's lip suddenly quivered.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Oh, Georgiana, I don't want him to go away." She burst into tears. "Why won't he allow me to come with him? Grace said I could come, but Papa won't allow it. Said it was a house party for adults."