Chapter Twenty-One
Not just a mistake, but a dreadful mistake!
Georgie had never witnessed a face filled with more horror and remorse than the captain’s had this morning, and the sting of those damning words still hurt. Probably because, as her wanton body had continued to want his, she had spent most of the night weaving ludicrous romantic fantasies about what would happen next.
Whimsical, improbable nonsense that ultimately involved them skipping off hand in hand toward the horizon rather than him sailing away toward one, gleefully alone. No doubt wearing his commodore’s uniform better than any man had a right to, his course set upward to bigger, greater things.
She did not know what galled more—that he had made her feel so pathetic and worthless, or that she had not only allowed it, she had welcomed it! Stupid, gullible, and needy idiot that she was! Her bruised heart ached so much she kept catching herself rubbing it.
“We’re almost home!” Squeezed beside her in the cramped carriage, Marianne still managed to find the space to bounce in her seat as she pointed out of the window. “That is Kingsand and Cawsand is just behind it!”
They had been following a picturesque coastal road for the last hour. The beauty of the scenery and ocean was completely lost on Georgie thanks to the captain’s blithe callousness. But even in her subdued and humiliated state, the vision of twin villages nestled amongst the steep, rocky hills that framed the wide blue bay was breathtaking. So pretty that, like her charges, she, too, pressed her nose against the window as the carriage jerked upward and into cottage-flanked lanes so narrow, there was barely room for the carriage at all.
Halfway up the hill, it veered from the main road to take a rutted mud lane through a field. There was a single house at the end of it, and by the way the children were grinning, the quaint, quirky, asymmetrical building surrounded by a wild-looking cottage garden was clearly home. It was a pretty vista, which was swiftly spoiled by the sight of Captain Kincaid galloping on ahead, and while principle and pride dictated that she should immediately turn away, her wounded gaze followed him all the way to the house.
The same gray-haired man who had relieved him of his horse after he had hauled the captain in for a manly embrace opened the carriage door as it came to a stop on the gravel driveaway.
“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite heathens!” He grinned at the children as he lifted each out while Norbert danced circles around his legs. “And you must be their new governess.” Kind eyes twinkled in a weathered face. She estimated him to be at least seventy but no less robust for it as he seemed as sprightly as he did friendly. “I cannot tell you how much I pity you for that dubious honor, Miss Rowe.” He held out a large, work-roughened hand to help her down, and it was filled with strength. “I’m Tom.” His broad West Country accent had a musical lilt that matched his cheery character. “For my sins, I am Flora’s jack-of-all-trades here at Guillemot House. I do everything from tending the garden to mending the constantly leaking roof to pretending to be the butler if they are having company that expects to be impressed.”
He swept an arm toward the front door to usher her inside. “Welcome, miss. I’ll apologize for my wife in advance, as she has no boundaries.”
As if that was her cue, an older woman appeared on the rose-covered porch and within seconds, her apron was immediately dripping with effusive children. She hugged all three, loudly proclaiming how much she had missed them in an accent that matched her husband’s exactly, then used the long wooden spoon in her hand to direct them all to the kitchen. “Don’t think I haven’t counted every bun and every biscuit, you gannets! You’ll eat the savory first or I’ll toss all those cakes on the fire!”
As the thunder of smaller feet fled toward the food, her laughing eyes gave Georgie an unapologetic and thorough appraisal. “I’ll confess when I heard Harry was bringing along a governess, I pictured a pinched and sour-faced old hag and not such a young and pretty thing as you.” To Georgie’s complete surprise, she was then enveloped in a hug. “I’m Ada. Head cook and bottle washer. Font of all local knowledge because I’m an outrageous gossip which I’ll make no apology for.” Straightaway, Georgie decided she liked Lady Pendleton’s servants very much. “But where are my manners! You’ll be wanting some tea and some sustenance after such a long journey!”
The captain was nowhere to be seen, but the children were already seated at the long kitchen table when Georgie was pushed into the chair beside Marianne. Felix had his mouth stuffed full despite his clean, empty plate. As he reached for another icing-smeared bun, Ada’s spoon swooped down in warning.
“It’s always bread before buns in this house, them’s the rules, no matter how differently they do things in London.” Then, without skipping a beat, the force of nature that was the head cook and bottle washer slammed her trusty spoon down, grabbed a knife, and began to carve thick slices of ham. She piled it on everyone’s plate while Tom hacked the enormous loaf of bread into pieces with the same finesse as one would chop a log for the fire. As he thrust them around, he practically threw one at Georgie as he sat opposite.
“There you go, Miss Rowe.”
“Miss Rowe?” Ada seemed appalled by that formality, especially as she had taken a seat at the table. “We don’t do airs and graces here in Devon. What’s your given name, child?”
“It’s Georgie,” said Georgie, finding this convivial and communal approach to eating rather charming. She had never seen a table where the servants mixed with those they served before now, and while she had heard that occasionally governesses were invited to eat with the family, she had never been invited to break bread with the captain. Not even on the long journey here. “And I’m not really one for airs and graces either.”
“Can we call you Georgie too?” Marianne openly fed the begging Norbert a slice of her ham beneath the table.
“Absolutely not!” Ada answered for her, wielding her spoon across the tabletop again, clearly more annoyed at the question than the dog being fed from the girl’s plate. “You rascals need to learn your place and you don’t get to call anyone other than family by their given names till you’re old enough to get married. Them’s the rules.” The spoon suddenly went limp as she grinned at a new arrival. “Well, don’t you look well, Simpkins! I’m glad to see that fancy London housekeeper is keeping you well fed.”
“But her food is not as good as yours, Ada. Nobody’s is.” A rare compliment from Simpkins, which made the older woman preen. Georgie slathered some butter on her bread and almost sighed aloud as she took a bite, but her pleasure was interrupted.
“Do you have family, Georgie?” Ada smiled, unaware she had just hit a raw nerve.
“Not anymore. My mother passed when I was ten.” Georgie flatly refused to include the colonel in that as he had never been like family. For all she knew, he could be dead and buried and, frankly, good riddance.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Ada reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “It must have been hard to be orphaned so young.” It had, but it was not something she was prepared to talk about at this table. “How on earth do you cope with being all alone in the world?”
“My three best friends are as good as sisters and I have Miss Prentice, of course, who took me into her school, gave me a home, and mentored me to be a governess. That is a family of sorts.” She took another bite, hoping the topic would be dropped, then almost spat it out when the nosy Ada pried deeper. “What took your mother?”
“Smallpox.” After it had spread around the barracks like wildfire.
“And your father?” Good heavens, but Ada was relentless.
“A carriage accident, I believe, although it happened while I was still a baby, so I have no memory of it and Mama did not like to speak of it.” As this was all getting more personal than she was comfortable with after such a short acquaintance, Georgie deflected. “How long have you and Tom been here at Guillemot House?”
Ada had no problem talking of her past. “I started as a maid of all work for Flora’s parents at fourteen and Tom came a year or so later to work in the garden.”
“You met here?”
The housekeeper smiled with affection at her husband. “We met here, fell in love here, got shackled here, and raised our five children here.”
“Which certainly feels like forever,” said Tom with a roll of his eyes, which earned him a thwap of admonishment from the wooden spoon. It did nothing to stop him. “Forty-five years is a terrible sentence when there is no hope of a pardon.”
“How romantic.” Even after all these years, it was plain the couple were still in love.
“Indeed it is, as I daresay not many find their soulmate at fifteen.” Ada began to slather a slice of bread with butter with a wistful smile. “But because we started young—”
“Too bloody young!” interrupted Tom, purely to make everyone laugh. “She took advantage of my lack of sense and then she took advantage of me!”
His wife carried on as if he wasn’t winking inappropriately at Simpkins. “—we’re already up to eleven grandchildren with another expected any day.”
Georgie had just popped a third, much bigger, chunk in her mouth to chew when Ada surged to her feet, her spoon once again raised at the ready as she bellowed toward the hallway. “Where do you think you are going when luncheon is on the table?”
It was Captain Kincaid who answered. “I’m sorry, but I have to report to my ship straightaway, Ada.”
“Not until tomorrow, you don’t, so sit your backside down at this table, young man, and eat first.” Ada’s eyes had narrowed as she sighted him down her spoon. “Don’t make me come fetch you.” The spoon turned slowly to point to the chair next to Georgie’s—which was, horrifically, the only empty seat left. “I’ve not seen hide nor hair of you for a year, so you’ll spare me a few minutes before you hurry to escape us again!”
Marianne nudged Georgie, then whispered, “This house makes Uncle Harry twitchier than we do.” Another new piece of information she wished she did not find intriguing.
“But Ada—”
“Don’t but Ada me, you scallywag!” She shook the spoon rather than her head. “Sit, Harry, or I’ll be forced to drag you by the ear like I used to!” She rolled her eyes at Georgie’s mortified expression, assuming that she had paused with a mouth full of bread because she was shocked to hear anyone speak to the master with such disrespect. “I changed his stinky bottom as a baby and he’s felt the sting of this spoon more times than anyone else in this house ever has, and all of them well deserved, so he knows better than to disobey me.”
Those smiling eyes flicked back to the captain and they brooked no argument. “Sit! Tell me all you’ve been up to. And don’t think you can skip over any detail you included in one of your monthly letters, young man.” He wrote a servant letters every month? Now that was another intriguing detail about the wretch that Georgie wished didn’t charm her. “As I’ll be wanting to hear all from your mouth just as I always do because I’ve got a million questions.”
“Just as she always does,” added Tom with an unsubtle wink to everyone while Georgie sensed the captain approaching the table. Then willed the floor to swallow her up before she was forced to sit next to the wretch.
“Five minutes,” he said while scraping the chair out with the same thwarted belligerence of Felix after he’d been refused permission to walk his dog at the inn. “Then I really do have to go.”
Satisfied, Ada sat and served him a giant wedge of a meat pie, the enticing aromas of rich, softly stewed beef and gravy filling the kitchen. But not quite filling it enough that Georgie’s stupid, wayward nostrils didn’t inhale the spicy essence of the captain’s cologne as he reluctantly slid into the chair next to hers.
It made no difference that he had ensured that there was a respectable gap of several inches between them. Her pathetically needy body blossomed with awareness regardless.