Dukes By the Dozen

They were both given a bit of a break as they received the staff with another tea service. Georgie focused on once again maintaining her composure as she watched their perilous dance with the heavy silver and delicate china. Tom was pale and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he balanced the tea service. Maisy had her lower lip caught between her teeth, and Mary wasn’t breathing at all. God bless them. They looked so much better than when she had first been introduced. Healthier, calmer, altogether less feral. She only wished that the duke could appreciate that rather than fear the ungainly ballet they conducted while serving.

At last, though, all was settled, her staff praised with sincere pride, and Georgie was pouring a bit of cream into the duke’s tea.

“Thank you for your patience,” she said, handing over the delicate cup.

His grin was a bit relieved. “I believe you are correct. They will make exemplary servants with a few more years under their belts. I think, however, that my Christmas gift to you will be a rolling tea cart.”

She grinned. “Not all homes will have a cart. So we practice without. It is more of an adventure.”

For a long few moments the two of them focused on Mrs. Prince’s delicious pastries. Usually Georgie could divorce herself from any other worries when she was savoring such fare. Today her heart simply wasn’t in it. She only had the time it would take to finish a cake before she had to face what had brought the duke here.

It simply wasn’t fair. She had finally felt safe. After three years spent in exile in Cornwall where she and the children couldn’t be found, she had been able to settle into a home. Not her home. She would probably never have a home now. Jamie’s pension was too small, and there was no way any of the parents would support her independence. So Jack had taken her in, her and Lully, their little apartment tucked up in the east wing of the tidy red brick Queen Anne home Jack had inherited from their grandmother.

Georgie and Jamie should have inherited his grandmother’s estate, a lovely ten room cottage near Portsmouth where Jamie could see the sea. That dream had been dashed, of course. His parents saw no reason to reward her for destroying their plans.

But she was safe here at Oak Haven. She helped manage the house for Jack and Olivia, especially when they were away, and Lully had her cousin to share lessons, kitchen treats and bedtime stories. No more running. No more hiding. No fear that Georgie would turn the corner to see a threat coming her way.

Of all the times to consider herself safe. The duke—Adam—was the greatest threat of all.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she heard and briefly closed her eyes.

Of course he had seen her reaction to the miniature. “It matters not.”

“But it does.”

She wanted him to say more, to say anything so she didn’t have to. She finally looked over to see sincere concern in his eyes.

“When did Jamie give you the miniature?” she asked.

“He didn’t.” He looked up, as if the plaster acanthus leaves that ringed the ceiling were the most fascinating thing in Dorset. “The Navy did. Well. They sent it to his parents. His father gave it to me.”

She nodded, oddly relieved. She felt even better when Adam reached inside his coat and pulled the miniature out. Taking one last look at it, he handed it over to her.

“Oh, no,” she protested instinctively, hand out.

His smile was kind. “No. It belongs to you. I have my own memories of him.”

Georgie realized her hand was shaking as she reached out to take it, the very last thing she would receive from her Jamie.

“He did write about it,” Adam said. “He was so very proud of having such a pretty little girl.”

Georgie clutched the little felt oval in her hand. “And he never saw her.”

There was a pause that she couldn’t fill, a silence she and Adam shared that was thick with unfallen tears.

“How long did you have together?” Adam asked.

She smiled, thinking about their hubris. They had wasted days on silly things, planning the house they would one day have, making lists of places they would visit, designing the boat Jamie would one day own to carry them to exotic places.

“Four months.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded like it. But then, Georgie had never doubted that Jamie’s cousin was a kind man. Jamie truly had worshiped him.

“I as well, Your Grace.”

He set down his cup and struggled to his feet. Georgie’s heart dropped. So. It was time to get down to business. She set down her own cup, but found she couldn’t quite make it to her feet as well. Instead she tucked the miniature into her pocket.

“Adam,” he corrected with a gentle smile as he retrieved his cane. “It would look ridiculous if you called your cousin ‘your grace.’”

“Yes, of course….Adam.”