Page 76 of And Then There Was the One
When she reached the base of the stairs, she found Sebastian deep in conversation with Papa; he said something that made Papa laugh, and something within Georgie softened at the sound. She cleared her throat, and Sebastian and Papa turned to watch as she descended the last couple of steps.
“Hello,” she said warily.
Papa frowned. “Georgie, love, are you unwell? It’s not like you to sleep this late.”
Georgie matched his frown. “No. I’m merely tired, Papa.” She paused, and wondered, startled, when had been the last time she’d admitted even the slightest bit of weakness to her father. She spent so much of her time ensuring that her family was well, that the wheels of Radcliffe Hall turned smoothly. For once, it was rather nice to not pretend to be all right, when she was feeling anything but.
Papa opened his mouth, but Abigail was there all of a sudden, seizing him by the elbow and practically pulling him out the door. “We’ll see you later, Georgie,” she called over her shoulder. With considerably more warmth she added, “Sebastian,” and dimpled at him. He grinned at her in return. Georgie watched all this with exceedingly bad humor.
“Don’t you have a train to catch?” she asked, the second the door shut behind her family.
“That depends,” he said casually.
“Depends,” Georgie repeated. “Depends on what, exactly?”
“Depends on whether you’ll come with me.”
Everything around Georgie seemed to go still and silent. Her focus was solely fixed on Sebastian, wearing…
She blinked. His trousers weren’t perfectly pressed. His hair was a bit disheveled. She leaned closer. His jumper was on inside out.
“What is happening?” she said aloud, wondering if she was having a stroke.
“Not permanently,” he said, taking a step closer to her.“Just for a visit, for a couple of nights. I thought you might… well—” Here he broke off, looking a bit sheepish. “I thought you might need the reminder that London isn’t so far from Buncombe-upon-Woolly, after all.”
She’d never thought of his gaze aspiercingbefore. It wasn’t normally, surely? Perhaps a piercing gaze was a weapon he kept tucked up his sleeve, like a murderer with a knife. (Oh dear. Perhaps shedidneed to get out of Buncombe-upon-Woolly for a bit.)
“You don’t have to come with me—withme, with me, I mean,” he continued. “You can stay with your aunt, and I thought we could—or you could—I just thought, you could visit a few of the gardens in town and see if they’re hiring apprentices. If you wanted, I mean.” He fell silent, looking suddenly uncertain, but then, seemingly unable to stop himself, added in a rush, “But if none of that sounds appealing—if you truly don’t want to ever move to London, if you want to stay here forever, I understand. It’s not my job to tell you what to do. And I’ll be back.”
“You’ll be back?” she asked, trying to make sense of his words.
“I’ve bought a return ticket,” he said, as though that explained things.
“A return ticket,” she said slowly. Stupidly.
“Yes.”
“To come back… here,” she added, her mind still not processing.
“Indeed.” He gave an encouraging nod.
“To… see me?” she ventured, feeling her way in the dark.
“I wanted to explain this to you last night,” he said, raisingan eyebrow at her. “But you were rather intent on picking a fight with me, so I wasn’t able to get around to it. You see,” he continued, ignoring Georgie’s indignant huff, “I intend to give my notice to Fitzgibbons—that’s why it’s so urgent that I return to London today—and I’d like to strike out on my own, set up my own agency. The past week has taught me that I rather like detective work—when it’s actually being conducted properly. When we’re actually helping people. And, well, it’s the sort of work that doesn’trequirethat I live any particular place. So I could set up shop in Buncombe-upon-Woolly,” he said airily. “Even if your crime spree has come to an end, there are bound to be other rural murders—I even considered the fact that a notorious Murder Village on the business cards might add to my appeal with a prospective clientele. And I can’t help but wonder if your friend Lexington might be interested in private detective work—though,” he added, eyes twinkling, “I do think that in his case, the offer might actually be more appealing if the job were in London, near a certain reporter.”
Georgie felt as though her brain were no longer functioning properly. “You would move to the Cotswolds… to be with me?”
“Georgie.” His smile was gone now, his legendary charm suddenly entirely absent, his expression serious and his gaze on her direct. “I would move to Timbuktu if that were required to be with you.”
“I don’t think I’m the adventurous travel sort,” she said, fighting a losing battle against the smile tugging at her mouth.
“All the better for me—I’d never keep my trousers properly pressed in that sort of environment.”
“They’re not pressednow,” she pointed out, and he grinned at her.
“I know. I slept horribly last night—your fault—and I’ve been awake for hours. I was so rattled I seized the first pair of trousers at hand. The whole experience has been deeply shocking, as you can imagine, and I expect I’ll need weeks to recover from this blow to my sleep regimen. Can’t imagine what impact it will have on my stamina.”
“Stamina, is it?” She smiled at him.
