Divine (11 page)

An aging villa with sweeping views of the Mediterranean, glittering under impossibly blue skies. The scent of jasmine and lemon trees hanging in the heavy summer air. Nuns, acting as nurses, softly move in and out of her room, bringing draughts to soothe her lungs. Suddenly, a shout interrupts the calm. A tall, dark man bursts past a nun, calling Georgiana’s name . . .

“Georgiana. Georgiana!” Arthur’s voice cut into her reverie, his fingers snapping. “I see that you still live with your head in the clouds.”

Georgiana shook her head. “Sorry. So sorry. Italy is a good story. It will work.”

Arthur nodded his head in satisfaction, sitting back in his chair.

Georgiana longed to do the same. To slouch back into her chair and get comfy. But being a lady meant having aggressively erect posture. And so she sat primly in her seat, upper back aching from the strain of remaining so straight.

Had she truly once sat for
hours
like this?

Silence hummed for a moment.

Unbidden, Georgiana found herself listening for James’ footsteps. His endless energy still echoed from room to room. It was as if nothing had changed and yet everything had.

He was gone, never to return.

“Did you have a funeral for James?” She couldn’t stop the question. It just popped out.

Arthur had refused to hear anything about 2013 beyond a general statement that James and Emme had married and were well. It was as if he wanted to believe that she really had just been seeking treatment in some far-off place in 1813. Her brother definitely struggled to accept anything that pushed against the strict boundaries he set for himself and his world.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded. “I put it about that he died in a carriage accident.”

“Does he have a grave marker?” She nearly winced at the question. It tempted fate.

“In the parish churchyard.” Arthur nodded again.

Even though she
knew
that James was alive and well in 2013, the news still felt unsettling. To Arthur and everyone else in the nineteenth century, James was dead, for all intents and purposes. It was unlikely that Arthur would ever see his brother again.

She
would never see James again either, if she was forced to remain.

“So you have not decided if you will stay with us for good?” Arthur asked quietly. “All this assumes, of course, that the portal will allow you to return to 2013.”

Georgiana let out a shuddering breath.

There was
that
small factor too.

“As I said, Arthur, I’m just here to understand how and when I write this mysterious love letter, to ensure that history flows as it should. It has been so . . .
captivating
to contemplate why I might write such a thing and—”

“Captivating? Did you just describe that letter as
captivating
? Honestly, Georgiana. That letter brings to mind words like
alarming
and
troublesome
. Please assure me that you will keep a steady head on your shoulders. I would hate for you behave in such a way that would damage your reputation—”

“Please, Arthur. As I said, I intend to return to 2013 and James, if possible. So my reputation here does not overly concern me.”

Arthur stared at her, his gray eyes speculative, fingers drumming on the desk.

“Well, forgive me, but I hope that you change your mind and decide to stay here. Marianne and I should be glad of your presence, particularly as you will be an aunt sometime before Christmas.”

Georgiana managed a fond smile. She did love Arthur, truly she did. And the thought of becoming an aunt
did
make her a little giddy. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault he wasn’t a kindred spirit to her, like James.

“I am very happy for you and Marianne, Arthur, but—”

“There are other compelling reasons for you to remain with us,” Arthur was continuing. “Lord Stratton’s presence here is not idle. He has been writing me for months, asking about you and your condition. In fact, that is the main reason I did not announce your ‘death.’ He has already requested my permission to pay his respects and, as you can imagine, it has been readily granted.”

Arthur had a pleased-as-Punch look on his face. Obviously, her acceptance of Sebastian was a foregone conclusion.

She held up a stalling hand, shaking her head. She had only been home for
three
hours, and Arthur was already trying to arrange her life.

“Arthur, I
literally
just said that I do not intend to remain in this century. So there is no need to play matchmaker—”

“Matchmaker? I am hardly arranging this marriage, Georgiana. I am merely stating that when Lord Stratton asks for your hand, I hope you will appreciate the great honor he does you and accept him.”

Georgiana felt like holding her head in her hands.

Three
hours! And here she found herself, thrust into the middle of this entire debacle.

It would have been funny, if it just wasn’t so . . .
not
.

“I must tell you honestly that I have already politely refused Lord Stratton’s most kind offer of marriage and—”

“I am sorry. You have what?!” Arthur’s voice rose quite dramatically at the end of the sentence.

“I have refused him.”

“But . . . but . . . why? He is offering to make you his countess. You would be Lady Stratton. How can you think so little about the honor of this family—”

“Please! I have barely returned and suddenly you want me to drop everything and bury myself in family honor?”

“Georgiana, James may tolerate your eccentricities in 2013, but here—”

“Stop acting all lord-of-the-manor, Arthur—”

“In this century, I am the head of this family and—”

“You are being positively medieval—”

“—I expect you to respect—”

“Don’t you dare throw guilt back at me. How could you be so uncaring about my feelings? To assume that I would marry where I do not love? Not to mention, my life with James and my prospects there—”

“I thought you had more sense than this, Georgiana. Has gallivanting around the future made you completely numb to the responsibility you bear to this family?”

His words stung.

Georgiana sat quietly and counted slowly to ten.

And then thought the better of it and continued right on to twenty.

Honestly!

She took in a deep breath.

“Arthur, I must tell you immediately that I am already involved with a gentleman in 2013. I have no intention of becoming involved with someone here too.”

No matter
what
her enigmatic love letter foretold, she mentally added.

Arthur sat for a second, absorbing the information.

“You have changed. You were not always so headstrong,” he finally said.

“I must beg to disagree, brother. I have always been this headstrong. In the past, I just chose to bite my tongue.”

Another pause. Another long stare.

“I see. And what is this suitor like? A gentleman, I assume? I trust that James has made all the proper inquiries into his family and finances? Will he be able to support you in the style in which James and I have raised you?”

Such a typical, nineteenth century statement. As if she were a prized possession to be passed from brothers to husband.

Though she could hardly
say
such an impertinent thing to Arthur.

“I would like to think that I am more than just a prized possession to be passed from brother to husband,” she said, as she was in the mood to say impertinent things.

Arthur needed to understand that he could not walk all over her, as if she were a small, stubborn child.

“I had hoped you would outgrow acting like a small, stubborn child,” he replied.

Ah
.

Apparently Arthur was in the mood to say impertinent things too.

They pondered each other in tense silence, his fingers drumming loudly on the desktop.

After a moment, Arthur’s shoulders slumped. “James and I love you, Georgie. We only want your happiness. I would hate to see you hurt. I have worried about you for so long. I would like to have a reprieve from the emotion, if possible.”

Trust Arthur to make her feel like a heel. She
hated
having to apologize.

“I am sorry to cause you any concern, Arthur, but this is the rest of my life you are playing with. I would like to be able to decide my own path.”

A commotion erupted outside, and then loud voices echoed from the great hall. An instant later, a footman tapped on the study door.

“Come,” Arthur called.

“Sir, a number of visitors have just arrived. Mrs. Knight requests your presence in the drawing room.”

Chapter 6

T
hey had found him.

Somehow, despite all his precautions, they had tracked him down. Really, the British army had to look no further than husband-hungry women to find masterful spies.

Sebastian sighed as he watched Lady Michael Burbank and her brood of Miss Burbanks flutter into the drawing room of Haldon Manor. Unsurprisingly, Lady Ambrosia followed behind them, making nuzzling noises to Mr. Snickers (sporting a yellow and black striped tunic) in her arms.

Apparently they had all just arrived in Marfield, taking rooms in the Old Boar Inn and, of course, immediately set out to call upon Mr. Arthur Knight and his distinguished guests.

“Cheer up, old man,” Phillips murmured from his side. “I am here in your hour of great need.”

Sebastian almost smiled at that. He knew that Phillips considered it no great hardship to spend large amounts of time flirting and telling dashing tales of his escapades as a soldier in Canada.

Bless him. He was the best of chaperones.

The ladies had just all performed their curtsies—Lady Ambrosia nearly spilling out of her dress in the process—when Georgiana and Arthur reappeared.

Sebastian’s heart did a triple skip seeing Georgiana again, her golden head and infectious smile. It was just such a
relief
. She was whole, healthy.

Alive
.

How like Georgiana to come back, seemingly, from the dead. A plot twist worthy of a gothic novel.

He remembered his actions in the meadow and forced himself not to cringe. For heaven’s sake, he was an
earl
and former army captain, not some green lad. And, yet, around Georgiana his mouth sped ahead of his brain.

Had he actually proposed? And a terrible, bungled proposal at that? He had just been so happy to see her, flourishing and well—the words had sprung free without thought.

He was an idiot. Though he had long known
that
fact.

He needed to woo and charm her. Turn her affection for him into something more. Something that—as she put it—made her knees wobbly and her insides liquid . . . liquidy . . . liquidish?

Regardless, somehow, some way, he would become
that
for her.

She glanced his way while being introduced to the newly arrived callers. Georgiana was already acquainted with Lady Michael and her daughters as they all had met in London several years previously.

A smile tugged at her lips as the ladies all pretended to be delighted by her sudden reappearance.

They weren’t.

Lady Michael and her daughters sank onto a long divan, all seated primly in a row. Lady Ambrosia with Mr. Snickers availed herself of a chair by the fireplace where Sebastian and Phillips stood. Marianne sat in the chair opposite Lady Ambrosia, a hand draped across her swelling belly, Arthur standing beside with a hand on her shoulder. Georgiana sank into a smaller chaise opposite Lady Michael.

“Indeed, we are all most heartily thankful for Miss Knight’s recovery.” Sebastian beamed at her and took the opportunity to seat himself at Georgiana’s side on the chaise. Not so close as to imply anything improper, but most certainly close enough to show interest. He gave her his most doting smile.

No sense in hiding his intentions.

Naturally, no one in the room misunderstood what was going on.

Lady Michael swallowed loudly.

“Miss Knight, how fortunate we are to find you so recovered.” Her tone so very, very dry.

Georgiana flashed her renowned smile. “I am most relieved to be here, Lady Michael.”

An awkward silence ensued.

Lady Ambrosia cleared her throat and turned to Marianne. “Is your brother in residence, Mrs. Knight?” she asked, turning her shoulders to expose even more of her bosom.

Marianne’s brother—Timothy, Viscount Linwood—resided at the family seat nearby, Sebastian recalled. He had come to know Lord Linwood over the past few months, being nearly the same age and working together in the House of Lords.

From what Sebastian recollected, Linwood had opposed his sister’s marriage to Arthur Knight. Linwood had found Arthur’s prospects, as a younger son, lacking. However, somehow Marianne had convinced her brother to relent and support her marriage.

It was said that Linwood had not taken James Knight’s early demise too hard, despite their long acquaintance as near neighbors. James’ death meant that the substantial Knight estate had passed to Arthur, making him a man of decided consequence and more worthy of Marianne’s hand.