Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Hugh pulled back to touch her cheek in wonder. Those blue eyes gazed into his, so sweet, so trusting.
A trust he had just broken. A gentleman did not kiss a lady unless he contemplated matrimony.
He dropped his hand. “Forgive me, Georgie. I should not have done that.”
The blue clouded, and she recoiled as if he’d struck her. “I see. Well, since it appears you have nothing to say for yourself, it might be best if we forget that ever happened.”
She turned and marched off through the trees.
Pain lanced him. He’d hurt her when all he’d wanted was to gather her close and tell her how much she meant to him, how much she’d always meant to him. But that wasn’t fair to her. He could do nothing about these feelings.
Ahead, a voice called among the shadows, one of her footmen, coming to find her as she’d predicted. Hugh hurried to catch up.
Mr. Popsby was waiting at the edge of the wood.
“Everything as you wish, Your Grace?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as if he suspected Hugh of taking liberties, which, he supposed, he had.
“We lost the boys,” Georgie said, voice tight. “Have you seen them?”
In answer, the footman turned and pointed toward the rear terrace, where Oliver was hopping about while Pip watched, as if the quieter boy was attempting to teach Pip a game of some sort.
“Ah,” Georgie said. “Thank you.” She turned to Hugh, but she didn’t meet his gaze. “And thank you, Vicar, for an enlightening afternoon. I trust you can see yourself off?”
Hugh bowed, thoroughly dismissed, and she swept past the footman for the house.
Mr. Popsby shook his head. “You’ll have to work harder, Vicar, if you hope to make your case.”
Hugh drew himself up. “I think you mistake me, sir. I have no designs on Her Grace.”
“More fool you, then,” the footman said, and he turned and stalked away.
Hugh stared after him, then shook his head.
Surely a footman could see the difference between Hugh’s station and Georgie’s.
Another woman would have slapped his face, perhaps complained of his treatment to the duke.
In other circumstances, he could find himself without a position or patron.
He doubted Georgie would be so vindictive, but he would have to watch himself going forward so as not to raise her expectations.
He put on a pleasant smile for Pip’s sake and went to collect the boy.
“He’s a good lad, that Oliver,” Pip said as he and Hugh walked home a short time later. They took the lane this time, heading for the bridge at the end of the village. “You and Her Grace getting on?”
Surely Pip hadn’t seen what had happened in the wood. “I always treat Her Grace with respect,” Hugh said. The kiss called him liar, but he thrust the thought aside.
Pip frowned. “Is that what it means to court, showing proper respect?”
Hugh stopped on the lane. “I am not courting Her Grace.”
“Why not?” Pip asked, pausing to gaze up at him. “She seems to like you. You like her.”
“We each have our places in life, Pip,” Hugh tried explaining. “It does no one any good to reach too high.”
To his surprise, Pip’s lower lip began to tremble. “So I’ll always be an orphan, with no friends and no family?”
Could Hugh be any more ham-handed today? He crouched to meet the boy’s gaze straight on. “No, Pip. You already have friends—Oliver, Her Grace the Second. And you have a family in me.”
The boy swiped at his cheeks. “And maybe I could go to school, learn to do something important, like you?”
There was nothing for it. Hugh pulled him into a hug. “You can go to school and learn to be anything you like, my lad. I’ll cheer you every step.”
Pip snuggled against him a moment before pulling away and raising his chin. “That’s all good, then. First, we need to get that school open in the village. Then, you need to work on getting yourself a wife.”
This again? Hugh rose. “I see no need at the moment.” Not when his heart still yearned for a duchess with sky blue eyes.
“I do,” Pip insisted, starting toward the vicarage again. “Because now that I’ve got me a father, I’d like a mother. And maybe brothers and sisters down the line.”
Hugh couldn’t help his chuckle as he followed. It seemed his new ward had things all figured out. A shame Hugh couldn’t say the same.
* * *
Georgie retrieved her pet and retreated to her room.
Everyone likely thought she was having one of her bouts of grieving, though, truly, it had been a while since she’d sat and had a good cry over poor Freddie.
Another man had started intruding on her thoughts, building her hopes. And the tears were falling again.
Hugh clearly cared for her but not enough to pursue a courtship. He’d raised her hopes, touched her heart, only to shut her out just when she’d convinced herself to try. The pattern from London was repeating itself again.
And why? She’d told him she didn’t care a fig for his parentage or position. Was it something about her? Was she not dutiful enough? Ill-suited to be the wife of a vicar? Or was he putting his ambitions first? Now a vicar, later a rector or even a bishop?
“Wretched man,” she complained to Anastasia, who was seated on the carpet at her feet as Georgie perched on one of the wingback chairs near the hearth. “If he isn’t willing to pursue a future together, why did he bother to kiss me?”
From the dressing room came a squeak, and something fell with a thud.
“Maisy?” Georgie called. “Is something wrong?”
Her ladies’ maid poked her head out of the doorway, cap slipping on her blond curls. “Just dropped a hat box, Your Grace. Would you care to change for dinner?”
She didn’t want to face anyone at the moment. “No, thank you. I’ll take a tray here.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” The maid backed out of sight and shut the door.
Georgie sighed. At least their staff were good about not gossiping. Maisy may have heard that Hugh had kissed Georgie, but the maid wasn’t likely to tell anyone else.
If only Georgie could forget.
* * *
She tried gamely to rally the next day. Claudia was advising Ben on the renovations, and Sophia and Max were heading to Grace-by-the-Sea to interview a potential teacher for the village school, so it was up to Georgie to keep Oliver entertained.
That was generally easy. They could study any one of the many books in the library together—history, geography, natural philosophy.
Oliver liked nothing more than to draw or play with Anastasia, and those pursuits suited Georgie very well at the moment.
But once again, Oliver had other ideas.
“Could we go see Pip?” he asked as he and Georgie sat in the library, his sketchbook forgotten on the table in front of him.
She wasn’t ready to face Hugh. “You just saw Pip yesterday,” she reminded Oliver.
His fingers rubbed at the cover of his sketchbook. “He might be lonely.”
Georgie’s heart hurt. “Are you lonely, Oliver?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I never had a friend before. I miss him when he’s not around.”
She drew in a breath. She should not think of her own worries when Oliver needed someone to comfort him. “I think we always miss those we care about when they’re not around. You cannot be with Pip every moment, but if you’d like to visit the vicarage, I’ll go with you.”
He brightened and hopped off his chair. “I’ll fetch my coat.”
A short while later, he fairly skipped down the lane toward the village, far more joyful than his usual solemn state. As if infected by his eagerness, Anastasia capered on her lead. Georgie was smiling as they approached the vicarage door.
Mrs. Hallet opened to her knock. “Your Grace! Young Mr. Warden! How nice to see you. Please, come in. I’ll let Mr. Caddington know you’re here.”
“No reason to bother the vicar,” Georgie hurried to assure her. “We’re here to visit Pip.”
The housekeeper smiled. “Well, then, I’ll tell him too.”
She showed Georgie and Oliver to the sitting room, then took Anastasia out to the rear garden to visit King Saul. Georgie settled on the sofa. Oliver perched on the edge of a chair, gaze on the door.
They waited. The clock on the mantel ticked off the time. Georgie frowned.
Pip stormed into the room, straw-colored hair sticking out in all directions, and reached for Oliver. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
Georgie stared at Pip, but Oliver scrambled to his feet. “Why? What’s wrong?”
The other boy scowled back at the doorway, where Hugh had appeared. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
“Pip,” Hugh chided, stepping forward.
Pip grabbed Oliver’s hand and tugged him toward the kitchen door. Oliver looked to Georgie, clearly confused. Did Pip think to run away, taking his friend with him this time?
She rose and blocked their way forward. “Pip, Oliver will be needed back at the manor. His father will be worried if he strays.”
Pip looked up at her, eyes as belligerent as the tip of his chin. Then he dropped his gaze and Oliver’s hand. “Sorry, mate. You have a family. I can’t cheat you of that. Best I go alone.”
She’d been right about his intent. How had things come to this pass? Her gaze darted to Hugh, and the sorrow on his face made her ache. He came to set a hand on Pip’s shoulder. The boy shrugged him off.
“Go upstairs, Pip,” Hugh said wearily. “Think about what we discussed. I’ll be along shortly.”
Pip nodded and shuffled from the room. Each thud of his steps up the stairs seemed to echo in the quiet.
Oliver glanced between Hugh and Georgie, face scrunching. “What happened? Why is Pip upset?”
“Pip did something he knew was wrong,” Hugh said. “We talked about the matter, and he denied responsibility.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not very good at delivering bad news, it seems. A terrible trait in a vicar.”
The matter had clearly upset him nearly as much as it had Pip. “I’m sure you did your best, Hugh,” Georgie encouraged him. “And giving Pip time to think about the matter will help. He’ll likely come to see the right of things.”
“But what did he do?” Oliver begged. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’s nice.”