Divine (42 page)

“True, but it was signed with my
full
name. Who signs their last name to a deeply personal love letter?”

Sebastian gave a startled chuckle. “Most certainly not you, my love.”

“Exactly!”

She laughed. That one sound dearer than all others. The melody that promised sunshine and stars and earned her another bone-melting kiss.

“Georgie, darling, I want to know everything. Can you go back and start from when I left Duir Cottage? Catch me up to the present?”

With a laugh, Georgiana did just that. Telling him about her (sort of) emotional break-down after he left. Her conversation with James and saying goodbye to him in 2013. Arriving just yesterday to find Sebastian gone and then realizing the love letter was a forgery.

The entire scene with Phillips nearly stopped his heart. While listening to Georgiana describe the danger she had been in, he released her and paced in front of the fire.

And then there was Phillips himself . . .

How could Sebastian have been
so
deceived?

Phillips had been a good friend. The best of friends.

The feeling of betrayal was raw. Visceral.

Even after nearly an hour back and forth talking with Georgiana about it, the pain still lingered. The wound would take time to heal.

For now, he was just eternally grateful she was finally safe.

And knowing that Phillips was Lord Zeus did clarify quite a bit.

It explained how Lady Ambrosia had always known where to find him, why the ladies who surrounded him were completely unsuitable. Anyone who could potentially attract his attention had been kept away. Everything hindering him so he wouldn’t have time to form a relationship before the deadline expired.

Even worse, looking back, he was sure Phillips had deliberately prevented Sebastian from hunting for Georgiana sooner. It had all been skillfully done. Phillips had just underestimated the depth of Sebastian’s attachment to Georgiana and, of course, Georgiana’s own prodigious sleuthing skills.

Now, Sir Henry had the matter firmly in hand and had ferreted out a great deal of information. He was a man of many talents, Sir Henry. They would be able to disband a good portion of Lord Zeus’ organization.

For tonight, however, Sebastian was just grateful Georgiana was safe.

“So after fretting about you for most of the night, I left at sunrise this morning,” she finished. They stood in front of the fire, her arms again around his waist.

“I don’t even want to know how you came to be here,” he chuckled.

She gave him a decidedly naughty grin.

“Let’s just say Arthur will be none too pleased to find his strongest hunter has been momentarily, uh, borrowed from his stables. I left a note, crept out, saddled his horse and rode.”

Sebastian chuckled, kissing her forehead. “That’s my Georgiana.”

She shrugged. “I just couldn’t wait another day, another moment without seeing you. I was so . . . angry the letter was a forgery—”

“Angry? Truly? I supposed you might be disappointed, but forgeries
are
mysterious, so why—”

“No, angry. Extremely upset.”

He cocked his head at her. Raised his eyebrows in question.
Please explain.

“Ridiculous Lord Zeus beat me to it. I spent
all
last week excited to return home and compose the most glorious love letter known to mankind. And then, I arrive, and that dastard Zeus steals my thunder—”

“Ha! Pun intended?”

“Yes, thank you—and writes the letter himself. He spoiled all my fun, the wretch.”

“Well, I am sure you will find a way to make it up to me—”

“Oh, but I did!” She pulled back from his embrace, digging a hand into her pockets. “I swear it was here . . . I stowed it away this morning before I left—”

“Pardon?”

“A love letter. I wrote you another one. A better one. A
brilliant
one.” She had pulled her pockets inside out by now, finding nothing. The pockets of her jeans were empty as well. “No! Argh! How could I have lost it? Of all the terrible—”

“Hush, my love.” He pulled her back into his arms.

“I lost it, Sebastian. It was here. How
horrid
! Am I doomed to never give you a heartfelt, romantic love note?”

Tears tumbled down her cheeks again, even through her smile. He brushed them away.

He kissed her cheek. “You could tell me instead.”

“Darling, dearest Sebastian,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, she took his head in her hands, forcing him to stare into her eyes. Swallowed her emotions.

“Sebastian Carew, I traveled two hundred years and rode sixty miles on horseback to tell you that I—” Cheeks glistening wet. “I love you. I love everything about you.”

Her words were electric jolts of glittering happiness. Somewhere he forgot to breathe.

“I love the way you look at me like I am the beginning and end of your world. I love your fierceness, your teasing, your goodness.”

The joy crashing through his soul stretched on and on . . . A heavenly sort of forever . . .

“I love that you are loyal and thoughtful. In short, I just love you—”

He kissed her.

Right then.

Right there.

Not to silence her. But because the swelling ache in his heart demanded no less.

A long kiss. The kind that dragged forever from one’s chest.

“Darling Georgiana,” he murmured against her mouth. “Beautiful, clever, sunshining Georgiana.”

She kissed him lingeringly and then pulled back, laughing, swiping at her wet cheeks.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t botch this.” She stamped a foot in laughing irritation. “I had
ten hours
on horseback today to think about it. Gah. Dumb trip would have taken less than ninety minutes by car—”

“One hour,” he corrected with a grin. “I’ve seen you drive, remember?”

Chuckling, she swatted his shoulder.

And then shook her shoulders and straightened her spine.

“Sebastian, I love you. And I have been thinking it would be a most excellent idea if I—well, you and I—were to make our relationship more permanent in nature—”

“Wait—Georgiana Elizabeth Augusta Knight, are you asking me to marry you?”

She paused for a second. And then stamped her foot again, laughing.

“I cannot
believe
I made a mess of that! Ten hours. I had
ten hours
, Sebastian, and I was so determined to do it right.”

“Ah, Georgie. ‘Tis tragic. And my first real marriage proposal too.”

“Sebastian—”

“I mean, other women have strongly hinted at marriage, but you are the first to actually come right out and pop the question—”

“Sebastian, stop!” She was laughing more helplessly now.

“And then, it wasn’t even a question, really, was it?”

“Well, it was to be my eighth and final marriage proposal—”

“Eighth? Really? Quite impressive.”

“Do I detect some sarcasm in that?”

“Well, after witnessing so many proposals, one would think you would be more experienced. I mean, you should have at least knelt down—”

“Sebastian Carew, you are truly a dreadful man.” She punctuated the statement by pulling his head in for a decidedly not-dreadful kiss.

A kiss which lingered for a while.

“Heavens but I adore you,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Darling,” he murmured in return.

She sighed and leaned back in his arms.

“I have always wondered why men fumble with marriage proposals so,” she said “
Now
, I know. It’s like a thousand emotions all crowding in, demanding space in your head, and before you can think clearly, words just slip out.”

He chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but she stayed him with a hand.

“No. Let me try again. As I intend this to be the
last
marriage proposal of my life, I want it to be perfect.”

She straightened her shoulders. Gave herself a shake. Nodded.

“Sebastian Carew, my sometime investigative wingman, efficient toe-warmer extraordinaire, giver of bone-melting smiles, but most importantly, dearest love of my heart, I would be forever humbled if you would do me the honor of accepting my hand and make me yours. Darling, will you marry me?”

The tears tumbling down her cheeks did nothing to dampen the luster of her smile.

Sebastian was quite sure his face looked the same.

“Georgiana.” He cleared his throat. “Darling, dearest girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

With a giggle of joy, she threw her arms around his neck, and he swept her up, into his embrace.

After a moment, she pulled back with a start. “The will! I had completely forgotten. Seb, your birthday is tomorrow, there is no way, with the banns to be read and Gretna Greene too far—”

He laughed and kissed her nose.

“Nonsense! I am not an earl for nothing. I arranged last week for a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. We can marry at first light, in whatever location you wish . . .”

She smiled.

That wide, wide smile.

Lush.

Impossible not to kiss.

And so he did.

Epilogue

The meadow

Stratton Hall

October 8, 1813

Sebastian’s twenty-seventh birthday

S
ebastian Carew reclaimed his heart on his twenty-seventh birthday.

He stood in that same meadow near Stratton Hall—morning light slanting through the surrounding autumn fire trees—where he had first lost his heart.

Watching as Miss Georgiana Elizabeth Augusta Knight walked slowly toward him through the dew-kissed grass. Blond hair hanging loose in waves down to her waist, shimmering like spun gold just as poets described.

The goddess of love come to him.

That precise point which divided his life ever after into two distinct parts.

Before her
and
after her
.

When she firmly tethered him to her gravity, finally claiming the other half of his soul.

The special license granted them permission to marry anywhere, indoors or out, and so Sebastian chose this meadow. The place where all his hopes had begun.

As vicar, his step-father officiated the service. His mother wept.

His sisters, their husbands, and all his nieces and nephews cheered wildly as he kissed his new bride.

It was as if some divine angel were smiling down upon them all, bestowing grace and joy.

The quickness of their marriage did not allow Arthur and Marianne to attend, and so Georgiana asked to honeymoon at Haldon Manor, turning Duir Cottage into a cozy love nest.

As was expected, Arthur Knight was beside himself over their union. It is said he shed more tears than anyone when informed of the marriage.

This day found the happy newlyweds curled up together on a sofa in Duir Cottage. It was not the same sofa as existed in the twenty-first century, nor was it in the kitchen (that being the realm of servants, as befitted nineteenth century life), but it was still a comfortable sofa, overstuffed and situated in front of the fireplace in the front parlor.

Georgiana was curled up beside him, snuggled completely against his chest. For his part, Sebastian had one hand around his wife’s waist and the other wrapped around her ever-cold toes.

“You are a countess and, yet, you still cannot seem to keep stockings on your feet,” he murmured against her hair.

She laughed softly and cuddled closer to him.

“You are a horrid enabler,” she said in return. “You provide me with no motivation to
want
to be toe-responsible—what with your deliciously warm hands. You have only yourself to blame.”

She made sure her voice sounded properly prim.

He chuckled under her cheek.

“Impossible woman,” he muttered.

Later on. Not on that day, but a week later when the sun shone bright and the leaves clung desperately to that last gasp of warmth, Georgiana stood in the hallway at the closet door.

Clutching a folded bit of foolscap in her hand.

“You have to come down with me and not let me go,” she said, turning to Sebastian. “If something goes wrong, there is no way I will be separated from you again.”

“Agreed.”

Hand in hand, they descended the cellar stairs. The portal hummed, sending electrical pulses through the air.

“This probably won’t work, but I have to try,” she said into the quiet damp.

Squeezing his hand tightly and keeping him close by her side, she walked forward to the portal. Kissed the note in her hand and pressed it against the stone.

And then gasped, as it was instantly absorbed into the rock.

“Oh! Oh my!” She jumped back, clapped her hands in delight. “Sebastian! Do you think it worked? Do you think James will get my note?” Even in the gloomy darkness, her eyes shone brightly. “I just so wanted him to know about our marriage. That I am happy and whole and at peace.”

Sebastian smiled, kissing her forehead. “I am sure he will know, my love, one way or another.”

Still hand in hand, they walked back upstairs and spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the foundling hospital they were to build near Stratton Hall, Georgiana’s eyes glowing with excitement. For his part, Sebastian eagerly awaited the completion of the new bathing rooms being installed.