Chapter Twenty-Six
“Is it true, Uncle Harry, that you are escorting Miss Rowe to a fancy naval reception tomorrow?” Marianne asked that with irrepressible glee while nudging Felix, just as Georgie arrived at the dinner table. “Felix says you are.”
“Well… I… um…” His ears burned red as he looked Georgie’s way, clearly embarrassed. “I was going to ask because… um… it is sort of expected that an officer escorts a lady to these excruciatingly formal affairs and I wondered if you would mind… um… stepping into the breach?”
“It’s official navy business, so apparently it doesn’t mean that he fancies you,” goaded Felix with a loaded wink to all the others, which said they had all sensed the attraction between the pair of them. “Will you say yes, Miss Rowe?”
“Well… I… um…” As her entire face had combusted too, and as everyone, bar Harry, was enjoying it, she tried to act nonchalant as she snapped open her napkin. “Of course. I am always happy to step into the breach.” She tried to smile without looking like a woman over the moon at the invitation. “How formal is it? Only—” She tried to make light of the odd new tension now hovering between them by flapping her hand at her clothes. “I came to Cawsand expecting to be a governess.”
“Flora will have something we can make work with a substantial bit of hemming.” Ada winked at her, enjoying Georgie’s and Harry’s discomfort immensely. “By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll be the belle of the ball.”
The arrival of Tom, who had been gone all day, couldn’t have come a moment too soon. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m a couple of minutes late and you’re all content to leave me with the scraps on the table.”
“Oh hush, we haven’t even started yet,” said his wife. “We were just discussing the fancy naval reception that Harry has just asked Georgie to attend with him tomorrow night.” As subtle as a brick, she wiggled her brows suggestively. “After supper, Georgie and I are going pick out one of Flora’s gowns so that she’ll look irresistible.”
“Lucky Harry.” Tom sat, grinning, needing to say nothing more to let the pair of them know that he, too, was aware there was a frisson. “But speaking of Flora, she’s finally sent a letter.” He produced it and waved it in the air for all of two seconds before Ada snatched it.
“Finally! She has been very lax in writing!” She tore it open without reading exactly who it was addressed to and quickly scanned it.
“What does it say?” Marianne tried to grab it, but nosy Ada was too quick.
“It says that their sailing has been smooth so far and that Gibraltar was lovely.” She ran a finger along the text. “And that she and your father decided to spend a few days in Rome rather than sail straight to Malta. That she’s seen the Pantheon and the Colosseum and so many ancient Roman ruins she cannot begin to describe them and…” Ada frowned, then sighed. “But she missed her babies too much and so they have decided to scrap their plans to search for the source of the Nile, and are instead going to spend a few more days adventuring in Italy before they take the Friday sailing back to Tilbury for an extended visit to you in London.”
“When was that letter dated?” Harry was frowning as if that was bad news.
“A week ago.” Ada passed it to him. “She still thinks the children are at your house.”
He read the letter himself, then passed it to the clamoring children, his expression disappointed, before he forced a smile. “Then, with fair seas, she’s likely to arrive at Tilbury within days and most likely, once she realizes we are all here, will make it to Cawsand in another week or so.” His gaze flicked to Georgie’s, and the fake smile did nothing to cover the regret in his eyes. “It appears that you came all the way to Devon for just a few weeks, Georgie.”
“So it does.” She forced a smile too, sad beyond measure that their time was almost up. In case that sadness showed and they all realized it was mostly for Harry, she reached for the girls’ hands. “We shall just have to make our last days together count then, shan’t we?” She slanted him an overbright glance and swallowed hard when she saw nothing but sadness mirrored in his dark eyes. “Make it all about fun.”
Harry forced a wry smile at that. “As opposed to what? Actual lessons at desks?”
“But we don’t want you to leave!” Marianne nudged her brother. “Do we, Felix?”
“That is very nice of you to say, but we always knew my position here with you was only ever temporary.”
“I am sure Mama would want you to stay!” Grace, bless her, was so convinced that even Ada nodded.
“I think she’d appreciate an extra pair of hands with these scallywags, so I daresay this won’t have to be goodbye.”
But it would still be a goodbye to him. Staying would only prolong the agony when he had to sail away in August anyway, and Georgie didn’t think she could bear to be here without him. “Sadly, as tempting a prospect as that is, I am needed back at Miss Prentice’s.” When the children’s faces fell, she tried to put her brave mask on. “But we shall obviously all write and when your uncle has some shore leave and you next visit him in London, the three of you can see me then.” It would be too painful to venture back to Hanover Square or see him once they parted ways. If it wasn’t a quick and clean cut, she would likely never get over what might have been. She knew that already, so in many ways this was for the best. So, so tragic—but very definitely for the best.
To avoid more speculation about them, Georgie and Harry kept up a steady stream of vibrant conversation for the rest of the meal. She waffled on about things she would do with the children in her final week, and he told tales of all the ports their parents had visited. Describing in great detail the exact height of Gibraltar and how long it had taken him to climb, and then fetching weighty tomes from the book-stuffed study so everyone could marvel at illustrations of the ruins scattered throughout Rome. He read to the children at bedtime while Ada rummaged through her mistress’s wardrobe for a suitable gown. As she tried on dress after too-long dress, she could hear him along the landing, acting out the story. His deep, velvety voice was both a torment and a comfort, albeit one that she savored and consigned to memory now that she knew there were a finite number of days left to enjoy it.
By the time the housekeeper had finished with her, it was all the adults’ bedtime too, so she said her good nights to Ada while Tom locked up the silent downstairs. As she opened her bedchamber door, Harry’s opened opposite.
“Are you all right with that naval reception thing?” He was coatless, his cravat long gone and his waistcoat undone, the ever-present two pocket watches missing too. The informality of his attire somehow added to the peculiar intimacy of the whispered moment. “Because obviously, I appreciate it is highly improper, and if you’d rather not spend your evening listening to dry old navy lags and their bored, unhappy wives, I completely understand. I was going to ask you quietly—but of course… Marianne.” He was anxious or nervous or both, because his usual elegant stillness had been replaced by a more animated Harry whose words were falling all over one another. “Anyway, it is honestly all right with me if you’d rather not and… um…” He raked an agitated hand through his already mussed hair, and that, too, was unusual when he rarely ever had one out of place. “I’m sorry.” He threw up his palms. “For Marianne and Felix. For all the awful insinuations over dinner. For… well… for everything, I suppose.” And there was the longing and sadness again. The disappointment. The resignation.
There seemed little point in making things more awkward, so she shrugged. “I’ve spent the last two hours being pinned and prodded, and as neither of us will ever hear the end of it from Ada otherwise, I am happy to come to that dull naval reception with you tomorrow. Will I see your ship?”
He shrugged. “Of course, if you want to.”
“Of course I want to.” It was technically the other woman between them, after all, and it seemed fitting to face that with the same accepting stoicism as she was their imminent goodbye. “Then I can brag, whenever your future feats of heroic derring-do are reported in the newspapers, that I had a private tour of the Royal Navy’s most mighty flagship.” If she kept things light, then this would be easier all around.
“Very well.” Copying her breezy demeanor, he smiled. “Be waiting at the wall at seven tomorrow and I shall introduce you to the Bane of My Life.”
“Not the bloody Boadicea?”
“I am practicing being a gentleman.” His eyes dipped to her lips briefly before he tore them away. “Good night, Georgie.”
Harry annoyed himself by checking his pocket watch for the third time. He was pretending to listen to Simpkins’s list of things that needed to be done tomorrow if the finishing of the bloody Boadicea was going to continue at the punishing schedule he had set. Yet all he could think of was Georgie.
As it had felt too much like they were a courting couple to go fetch her himself, and he didn’t want to appear anywhere near as eager as he was to spend an entire evening with her, he had dispatched Lieutenant Gregson to Cawsand to get her. To complete the illusion that he was supposed to be too busy for anything but the huge responsibility the Admiralty had placed on his shoulders, and because he was trying to keep his arse out of his too-tight dress breeches until he absolutely had to don them, he hadn’t yet changed either.
Although this felt like a significant change in the timbre and direction of their relationship, it wasn’t. She had been press-ganged into doing him a favor and he had a career and ship to focus on. Tonight was a fluke. And, as she had so deftly done with much more success than he had managed, he had to keep her at arm’s length.
It made no difference that he had no clue if she was feeling as wretched about their imminent separation as he was. In fact, for the sake of his sanity and his career, it was probably best not to know. The temptation would be too much, and he did not trust himself to be able to resist it.
He was about to check his pocket watch again when Simpkins groaned. “There she is! Finally!” He pointed to the small naval boat picking its way through the crowded waters of the dockside. “We can go over all this tomorrow—when you are actually in the mood to listen.” His right-hand man snapped closed his notebook, and he huffed. “I know I’m likely speaking out of turn, but we’ve been together a lot of years and… well, just be careful, is all. If this is scratching a mutual itch, I’ll turn a blind eye. You and Georgie are adults…” He rolled his eyes as Harry bristled. “Just be mindful of what happened with the Damysus, that’s all.” The stark reminder of the first ship he had lost thanks to his failed romance with Elizabeth had him bristling even more. But not even his lethal glare was enough to stop Simpkins from stepping way over the line. “And be mindful that Georgie is a nice girl. It wouldn’t be fair to break her heart.”
As there really was nothing he could say to that except agree, Harry waved him away. “All duly noted.” Just in time for Gregson to bring the boat containing her alongside.
Her hand emerged in greeting from the blanket she was fully swaddled in, so he waved back, trying not to run off his ship to go greet her properly. He still managed to get down the gangplank in time to be the one to help her up the steep stone steps, as he wanted to be the one to enjoy the feel of her hand in his, even if things couldn’t go any further than that. “Welcome to His Majesty’s Naval Dockyard, Plymouth.” He motioned to the early evening sunshine still blazing low in the sky and then to her blanket. “Or were you expecting Norway?”
She laughed and his foolish heart was instantly lighter. “Says the man who has absolutely no idea of the horrors that my horrid hair is capable of in even the gentlest breeze.” She carefully unwrapped the layers wrapped tight over her head and then smiled some more when the pretty hairstyle she revealed seemed to be intact. Only then did she discard the rest of the blanket, and his throat dried.
Good Lord, but she was beautiful! Breathtakingly so. The green silk gown was cut low, as was the fashion, but she filled that bodice spectacularly. So spectacularly Harry swore he heard every single sailor on the quay inhale along with him, then sigh the breath out. The rest of the fabric skimmed her curves as she stood, while her copper curls crackled in the sunlight.
“Allow me,” said an obviously bewitched Gregson as he helped her to the steps, and when her petite legs struggled to clear the height required between the edge of the boat, the wretch almost lifted her out. His subordinate seemed most aggrieved when Harry jumped into the boat to do that himself. He sincerely hoped that nobody noticed how hard he found it to release her once his hands had spanned her trim waist, before he led her up the steps.
Her eyes were everywhere as she took in the dock, and then she blinked at the sheer size of the ship. “Is that the…”
“Bloody Boadicea?” His whisper was proprietorial and just for her because every single man was openly staring now, and he wanted them to know that she was his. At least for the purposes of tonight. “Yes, it is. As we have at least half an hour before the carriage comes to collect us, allow me to give you the tour.”
He led her up the gangplank, then could not resist lifting her again over the rail, even though she undoubtedly could have managed on her own. Then, because every man on deck paused what they were doing to gaze at her with appreciation, he offered her his arm. Again, it was as proprietorial as it was instinctive, never mind that having her on his arm felt far too good than was sensible.
She asked a hundred questions as he showed her around, to both Harry and the instantly bewitched sailors and shipwrights still on board, and made all the appropriate sounds an impressed person would make as she ran her fingers over this and that. But the charming wrinkle on her nose hinted that she wasn’t completely seduced by this grand ship either, and that made him smile. Georgie’s good opinion wasn’t won easily and he liked that about her.
Twenty minutes, six decks, and all one hundred twenty guns later, and they were almost back where they started on the main deck, exploring the stern of the ship. “And what lies behind this impressive door?” She touched the ostentatious gilded emblem in the center of it, undoubtedly finding all the military pomp a little ridiculous.
“The captain’s cabin.” Without considering the appropriateness of it, he flung open the door and ushered her inside, where they were both immediately confronted by the most inappropriate thing currently on the ship.
His bed.