Page 78 of And Then There Was the One
“Doing what, precisely?” he asked, the gleam in his eye even more pronounced.
“Helping me change my clothing,” she said innocently. “I can hardly travel to London in my gardening dungarees.”
“You can travel to London in an old sack, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, looking as happy as she’d ever seen him.
She reached a hand up to feel his forehead. “If you no longercare about clothing, then we’d better go upstairs in a hurry—this might be our last chance, as you’re surely feverish and will undoubtedly be dead soon. Besides,” she added, “your jumper is inside out.”
He glanced down, startled. “Good God almighty, perhaps Iamdying.”
“Well, at least you’ll die a happy man,” she said cheerfully, pulling at his hand and leading him back toward the stairs. He tugged her to a halt and kissed her, fierce and hard.
“The very, very happiest.”
Later, there would be time to sort the details—of their journey to London, of whatever Georgie was going to do once she got there, and of what a future with Sebastian might look like—but for now, the house was quiet, Egg’s tail was wagging, there was a handsome, posh man with hair to be rumpled and clothing to be removed, and, most importantly of all, no one at all was being murdered.
