Page 48 of And Then There Was the One
“Try believing it,” he said. He looked at her very steadily, and Georgie was acutely conscious of the fact that she was halfway through eating a sandwich, and quite possibly had horseradish sauce on her face. When he looked her in the eyes like that—when he wasn’t trying to be seductive or flirtatious, or asking inane questions, or doing anything other than speaking to her in a quiet voice while looking her straight in the eyes…
Well, it made it difficult to think about anything else.
“Why did you go to the village this morning?” she asked, grasping desperately at the change of subject in the hopes that it would make her feel on steadier ground once again.
“I wanted to take a look around,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve not explored it yet without you, and I thought it might be interesting. Forgot it was Sunday, though—not many people about at nine on a Sunday morning.Though,” he added, a rapturous expression crossing his face, “the bakery was open, and Georgie, I swear, those Chelsea buns are life-changing.”
“Your feelings have been noted.”
“Not adequately,” he said mournfully. “Not until I’ve erected the equivalent of Michelangelo’sDavidwill my sentiments be appropriately memorialized. And we wouldn’t even need to worry about offending anyone’s virtue! Baked goodsdon’t have genitalia,” he explained, apparently mistaking Georgie’s expression for one of confusion, rather than reflecting a desperate attempt to both eat a sandwich and refrain from hysterical laughter at the same time.
“Anyway,” he continued, “once I emerged from my Chelsea-bun-induced stupor, I noticed there were suddenly an awful lot of people about, so I—an intrepid sleuth—naturally followed them, and that’s how I found myself in that fascinating little church of yours. I particularly enjoyed the stained-glass window featuring three sheep.”
“Youwent to church?” Georgie asked, trying and failing to not sound astonished by this development.
He widened his eyes innocently. “I like to remind God of my existence from time to time.”
“I doubt that’s necessary. I’m certain you pop up in various people’s confessions often enough that you’re never far from the front of his mind.”
“You do know how to flatter a man, Georgie.”
“That wasn’t flattery.”
“The fact that you think so is part of what makes you so delightful,” he said, looking more pleased than could possibly be healthy. Men like Sebastian, Georgie had decided, were far too accustomed to things going their way, which was why she liked to be as much of a pebble in his shoe as possible.
“I wasn’t going to stay—I really just wanted to see who would show up, and if they did anything interesting—but then I realized that food was going to be provided, so I had to stay.”
Georgie blinked. “The… coffee hour, afterward?” she ventured.
He shook his head. “No, the bit where you get wine and a biscuit. Best part of the entire experience—I was famished by that point. It had been at least an hour since that Chelsea bun.”
“Oh my God.” She burst out laughing. “You’re a heathen.”
“Guilty,” he said cheerfully, gazing fondly at her as she continued to laugh helplessly. “My parents are dreadful atheists, I’m afraid, so I was raised without any religion at all—I couldn’t even tell you what the Trinity is.”
“The fact that you are aware of its existence is encouraging, at least.”
“Women are fond of getting rather popish in moments of great passion. Start shouting about all sorts of things.”
“I am fairly certain that this conversation is sufficient alone to see you sent to hell, without even considering all your other sins.” She shook her head, finally able to get her laughter under control, and realized that something in his gaze had shifted as he watched her suppress her giggles. “What?” she asked, brushing awkwardly at the knees of her dungarees in a futile attempt to dislodge some of the clumps of dirt that were rapidly settling into the fabric.
“Nothing,” he said, with a shake of his head and a look of faint confusion, evident in the slight wrinkling of his brow. “Anyway, what was I saying?”
“Something blasphemous about the body of Christ.”
“Ah, right, the snacks. Well, once the service was over, I noticed Miss de Vere and Miss Singh, which I found surprising—wouldn’t have taken them for churchgoers. Anyway, I went to have a little chat with them—never leave a pretty woman unacknowledged, that’s my motto—”
“Believe me, I am aware.”
“And they were yammering away about that book club at the library—you know, the one they had to go fetch the book for, yesterday afternoon? And it suddenly gave me an idea.”
“So help me God, if your idea involved seducing someone in the church graveyard—”
“I amshocked, darling Georgie, at the places your mind goes. And while taking the Lord’s name in vain, no less!” He tutted, shaking his head, but was unable to prevent the curve of his mouth that Georgie found herself matching against her will. For a moment, they crouched there under the bright June sun in the quiet kitchen garden, Egg snoozing in a patch of shade, smiling helplessly at each other, and Georgie felt a rush of such fierce, uncomplicated joy that it nearly set her off-balance.
“Your idea,” she prompted.
“Right. Well, we need to speak to Miss Halifax, don’t we?”
