No Greater Love (6 page)

“You had thought what?” he asked, sounding perplexed.

She forced herself to go on, for her relief was so great that she felt she ought at least to thank him properly. “I had thought that you would expect … well, you know. I had never thought you would be so kind and thoughtful—so understanding. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

He said nothing. He only pinched the bridge of his nose, and then after a moment he leaned over and picked up the candelabrum. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “This way, Georgia.”

She followed him, carefully walking in his path so as to avoid the occasional rotted board. Her heart was so full of relief that she felt positive fraternity with him. He stopped at a bedroom door and opened it for her, putting the candelabrum down on a table close to where logs gently hissed in the fireplace, giving off a pleasant heat.

“Here you are, Georgia. You’ll find your clothes in the wardrobe, and I believe that Binkley has provided hot water. Good night.”

He abruptly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, not giving her a chance to reply. She took a deep breath and looked about her. The room had been made comfortable, like a proper bedroom, with a dressing table, the wardrobe, a carpet on the floor, and blankets and pillows and all the rest. She had never expected so much. It was by far the most comfortable bedroom she’d ever been offered. She could scarcely believe her good fortune.

With the burden she’d been carrying for the last ten days so unexpectedly dismissed, she quickly undressed, put her best dress carefully away in the wardrobe, pulled on her warmest nightdress, and fell fast asleep.

Nicholas was not so lucky. He entered his own bedroom, where at least the ceiling was intact but the windowpane was broken. Although Binkley had apparently attempted to cover the gap with a board, a chill draft still streamed through. There was a fire burning, but it smoked and stung at his eyes. He undressed and threw himself into bed, shivering under the damp blankets. This was not exactly how he had intended to spend his wedding night. No man should have to spend his wedding night in solitude, not with a young and attractive wife sleeping only a wall away. But then, he had forgotten to take into account the feet that Georgia was a widow and no doubt still clung to the love and memories of physical affection her late husband had provided her. It would be churlish in the extreme to intrude himself on that. He would have to wait until she was ready to accept him, and wait graciously, he knew. Under these circumstances, behaving as a gentleman was his idea of hell.

He’d suspected it had all been too easy.

He wondered just how long it would be before Georgia decided to welcome him to her bed. Gallantry should never have been invented. Sainthood was not his style. He was a normal man, flesh and blood, and that flesh was burning and aching and needing release. It had been far too long since he’d had a woman, months in fact, and he’d been looking forward to this night. He had been attracted to Georgia from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, had had his blood inflamed by that one amazingly sweet kiss, and his imagination had been playing havoc with him ever since he had seen Georgia in her turret wearing nothing more than a simple nightdress.

He had made her his wife, hadn’t he? He had spent the last ten days congratulating himself on his choice, thinking about all the fine long nights they would have—starting with this one.

But virtue was virtue.

He should have thought the situation through first, instead of assuming that Georgia would automatically welcome him as her husband. He should have made his intentions clear to her, instead of standing there like an idiot while she thanked him for his understanding. His
understanding?
The only thing that he understood was that he was a fool.

“Oh, God!” He gritted his teeth and buried his head in the pillow, trying not to think of soft arms and round breasts and embracing thighs. He tried hard to think of nothing at all, but that didn’t work either. He finally jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and went out for a long, brisk, very cold walk.

Georgia found Nicholas in the dining room the next morning, his dark head bent over papers that were spread out everywhere. She studied him for a moment before she entered, feeling a rush of gratitude.

She was safe, and she had this man to thank for it. She owed him a great debt. He had taken her from an untenable situation, given her his name, a roof over her head—well, part of a roof, anyway—and had asked nothing more of her. She vowed to do everything she could to see that he didn’t regret his generosity.

He glanced up and saw her standing there. “Why, Georgia—good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, and far too late, I fear,” she said. “My room was exceedingly comfortable. If Binkley hadn’t been thoughtful enough to bring me chocolate, I might well have slept the rest of the day away.’’

She had no idea that the morning light was streaming in through the window, backlighting her golden hair like a halo and highlighting her slim figure through her thin, worn dress, leaving little to the imagination. She only knew that Nicholas was gazing at her in a somewhat pained fashion.

“I … I hope you don’t mind that I overslept,” she said uncertainly. “It is not usually my habit.”

“I think you must have needed the sleep badly. You had dark circles under your eyes yesterday. And it is no matter to me what time you rise. Sleep as late as you wish. Now, sit down here, for I wish to speak with you.” He cleared away some of the papers to make a place for her. “I’ve been thinking: you need a maid. Binkley might be a marvel, but we cannot expect him to help you with dressing and bathing and all the other necessaries.”

Georgia looked at him with alarm. “Nicholas, that is most thoughtful of you, but I have never been dressed or bathed or looked after in my entire life, save by my mother when I was a child.”

“Haven’t you?” he said, unconcerned. “Well, then it’s time that you should be. Furthermore, when I next go up to London, I’m buying you a proper wardrobe.”

“Certainly not! What a terrible waste of money!”

“Georgia, my dear, I do believe it is up to me to decide how I will spend my money. You need decent clothes. Decently warm clothes, I mean. And in any case—”

“No,” she said firmly, holding up a hand. “I can understand that you would like to have a wife who is properly turned out, but I am a seamstress. If you must, then you may buy me material, but I shall make my own clothes. But I do thank you for the thought. I am quickly discovering that you are a very thoughtful man.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he replied scratching his cheek and giving her a long, unreadable look. “I don’t know about that. It is entirely possible that I am a complete imbecile. But very well, you shall have material, if that is what you wish. However, you will also have a maid. It is only proper. And I am not prepared to argue the point.”

Georgia was prepared to argue the point, for Nicholas was being foolish, but then a thought struck her and she smiled. She had absolutely no need for a Bella, but she did know someone who was in need of a job, with younger brothers and sisters to feed, and she knew just where to find her.

“If you insist, Nicholas. If you will be so kind as to lend me your carriage, then I shall go immediately to hire the maid you require. I have the perfect person in mind. She was in employ at Ravenswalk in the kitchen. And Binkley will need someone to help him in the kitchen, won’t he? It will kill two birds with one stone and save money as well.”

Nicholas was silent for a minute, and she couldn’t read his expression. “Very well,” he finally said. “I think we shall call the discussion a draw. A diplomatic coup, Georgia—honor remains intact on both sides. Very clever. I do believe I might well have taken on more than I anticipated.”

“As I told you, I only wish to oblige you—when you’re being sensible. If Binkley wouldn’t mind harnessing the horses? I can drive myself, of course.”

“You most certainly will not. Binkley will drive you.”

“It seems a terrible waste of his time—”

“Georgia!” Nicholas roared. “Are you going to argue me on every point?”

Georgia, who had learned early in her previous marriage when it was unwise to push a matter, backed down. “Very well,” she said. “But you cannot expect Binkley to play coachman to me every time I need to run an errand. I can drive perfectly well. I often used to, you know.”

Nicholas pushed out his chair and stood, leaning his fingertips on the table. “You will not drive, not while Binkley and I are here to drive you. The horses are new and headstrong and they need further schooling. Believe it or not, Georgia, there is reason rattling around somewhere inside this imbecilic head.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said contritely. “I had not meant to challenge your reason.”

“What a relief that is. I’ve been challenging my reason enough for both of us. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and instruct Binkley.”

He pushed out his chair and went through the door. But as he walked down the corridor, she heard him muttering to himself. “Bloody, blasted blockhead,” were the last words to float down the corridor.

Georgia laughed and went to fetch her cloak, wondering what had gotten into Nicholas. Perhaps, like Baggie, he was chronically bad-tempered in the morning.

“You, married, miss?” Lily, a pretty young girl with a heart of gold, stood in the doorway of her cottage, her mouth agape.

“Indeed, Lily, and to Lord Raven’s nephew. It’s all a very long story, but the long and the short of it is that we are now installed in the Close, and in desperate need of help. I was hoping I could persuade you to come and work for us.”

“The Close? But you can’t live there—it’s all broken-down, and not fit for people.”

Georgia shrugged. “Exactly. And you needn’t live at the house if you don’t wish. But, oh, Lily, we’re going to make it beautiful again, all on our own, piece by piece and one day it will become the grand place that it once was. Will you help?”

Lily’s eyes shone with pleasure. “You know I will, and be thankful for the work, miss. You was always good to me, and I haven’t forgotten for a minute, and I’d work for you anywhere, broken-down house or no, and no matter what people say. Lady Raven—she must have been fearful angry with you.”

“I imagine, although I didn’t consult her on the matter.” Georgia grinned. “I just packed my case and walked out the door.”

Lily covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes danced with laughter. “Oh. Oh, my. No by-your-leave? The walls must still be shaking. And to run off with the black nephew? But how? You weren’t allowed to talk to a soul!”

“Actually, Nicholas managed it for me. He climbed the outside wall to my room to propose.”

“Oh…” Lily said with a great sigh. “Oh, I’ve never heard of anything so romantic! My heart fair bursts!”

“Well … it wasn’t quite like that. But if you will come, I’d be so grateful. Maybe you could start tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Yes, miss. You can count on me. Thank you very much, miss. My auntie has moved in to look after the little ones, so I won’t be needed. The money will come in handy, though. And, miss?”

“Yes, Lily?”

Lily hesitated her cheeks reddening. “Thank you for the money you sent before. I was touched. I don’t know how to write, so’s I couldn’t send a note, and I surely couldn’t come by to pay you a call, but it made all the difference in feeding our Fred and Mary and little Janie.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Georgia had a pleasant feeling of satisfaction as Binkley drove her home, but speaking with Lily had brought into fine focus an aspect of her new position that had begun to worry at her ever since Nicholas had begun to talk about ladies’ maids and wardrobes. She was going to have to give the matter some thought.

Binkley appeared in the attic as Nicholas was gazing up through the hole in the roof. “It’s going to be a long, cold winter, Binkley,” he said with a heavy sigh, contemplating the large expanse of sky.

“Very possibly, sir.”

“How was your mission into town?”

“I believe Mrs. Daventry was successful. She has hired a Miss Lily Miller. Lily is young but appears competent enough, and she is a pretty girl.”

Nicholas smiled. “For shame, Binkley. I am a married man.”

“Indeed you are, sir, and a fortunate one at that. But as you have often said, it is always more pleasant to have a pretty face to look upon than a homely one.”

“That’s true enough,” Nicholas said, thinking of Georgia. It would have been a great deal easier on his loins had Georgia been homely. But unfortunately she had appeared just as attractive to him first thing this morning as she had last thing the night before. He sighed again.

“Do you have an attack of melancholy, sir?”

“Not in the least. See here, Binkley, we’d better get started. The first order of business is to begin to seal up the most obvious hole. The London roofers won’t be here until next week.”

“I have someone who can help for the moment, sir. After bringing Mrs. Daventry back here, I returned to Polegate, sir, and had a drink at the tavern.”

Nicholas gave him a long look. “And what did you discover at the tavern, Binkley?”

“It is just as you thought, sir. The tavern was full of nothing else but talk about you.”

“I suppose it was the kind of talk that doesn’t bear repeating.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“And Georgia? I hope they were at least more charitable to her.”

“Yes, sir. I would say there is a degree of sympathy.”

Nicholas smiled grimly. “I can imagine. Well, with luck, the talk will die down and some other scandal will come along to occupy them. What about this person you found?”

“In the course of listening, I managed to discover a Mr. Lionel Martin, who is a man of all work. He openly scoffed at the talk. I followed him outside and hired him immediately. He is not from this village, sir, but lives on the coast, at Pevensy. He will be arriving tomorrow. I also inquired at the blacksmith as to a mount for Mrs. Daventry, as you requested. There is a mare for sale at a very reasonable sum.”

“Well done, Binkley. You may purchase the mare. At least the horses have a solid roof over their head.”

“Yes, sir. It occurred to me yesterday upon seeing the condition of the house that you might want to take up temporary residence in the stables.”

“Tempting, but no. I must draw the line at sleeping with the beasts. And speaking of that, I think we must fix the window in my bedroom. Frostbite threatened last night. It is a good thing I have a strong constitution.”

“Yes, sir, although I do not recommend staying out quite so late in these extreme temperatures. Frostbite becomes a probability.”

Nicholas shot Binkley an incisive look, but Binkley did not seem inclined to comment further on how his master had passed the night. “Where is Mrs. Daventry now?” Nicholas asked.

“I fear she is cleaning, sir. I could not persuade her against it.”

“What, exactly, is she cleaning, may I ask?”

“The windows in the dining room. She seemed quite insistent on continuing.”

“Is your sense of propriety outraged, Binkley?”

“It is not correct in the least for your wife to be washing windows, but I cannot help but admire her sense of purpose, sir.”

“Yes, I am rapidly discovering that my wife has a very strong sense of purpose. It could prove interesting. I fear her gentle beauty belies a will of steel. Well, Binkley, let us leave Georgia to her cleaning while we get on with the roof. In your opinion, what do you think the best approach to fixing the hole might be?”

Binkley happily launched into a technical analysis of the situation.

Georgia sat over the evening meal in an agony of nervousness. She had spent the entire afternoon trying to be realistic, and it had not been a comfortable exercise. The reality was that Nicholas was not only a stranger, he was also a stranger from a world as different to hers as night was to day. She couldn’t even begin to divine his thoughts. For example, why was he so silent tonight? Perhaps he was inclined to moodiness, she decided. Cyril had problems with moodiness, and she wondered if it ran in the family, like the strong eyebrows and the striking gray eyes beneath.

She colored as she realized that those gray eyes were watching her steadily.

“Have I something stuck between my teeth, Georgia?” he said. “Or perhaps I’ve spilled something down my shirtfront?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I was just thinking.”

“And what were you thinking, may I ask, to cause you to regard me so?”

“I was only trying to work out if you like to eat your meals in silence, or if you’re inclined to moods. If I’m to be a good wife, then I need to know these things.”

Nicholas put down his fork. “What? What are you going on about?”

“Just as I said. I’d like to be a good wife.”

“Georgia, you sound as if you’re applying for a job,” Nicholas said. “It’s already yours, you know. And I told you yesterday that I don’t wish to be accommodated. I am sure I wouldn’t know what to do with that sort of thing.”

Georgia fiddled with her napkin. “You don’t understand.” She felt the heat creeping up her cheeks.

“All right, then. Why don’t you explain it to me, so that I do understand.”

“It’s difficult, but I’ll try. You see, I don’t know your likes and dislikes, or much of anything else about you. And you don’t know anything about me either. But you should.”

“I feel a point coming on,” Nicholas said.

“Yes, there is.” By this time Georgia had managed to twist her napkin into something resembling a misshapen horseshoe. “I feel it is only fair to be honest with you.”

“That’s good. I value honesty, as I’ve told you before. So. What is it, Georgia? Were you a streetwalker in a previous life? Or perhaps you have six children hidden away that you’re going to produce on our damaged doorstep? Fine. Whatever you wish.”

“Nicholas, please don’t tease.”

“But I wasn’t teasing. I’m quite serious. After all, I did practically coerce you into marrying me. Given that, what’s a wicked past, or a child here and there?”

“But it
is
my past that’s the problem.”