Page 22 of Otters and Obstacles
Hopefully, he would be able to find a bride whose company at breakfast was nearly as restful as his friend’s.
8
The letter from Caroline was here.
One of Mr. Banner’s younger sons had brought it—skipping away with a silver penny in hand for his trouble—and Georgie took it into her makeshift art studio and closed the door.
She held it for a long moment, reluctant to break the seal. Opening it would bring this magical time in Kilbythorpe to an end, forcing her back out into the real world.
With a bracing inhale, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
Dear Georgiana:
I am so sorry to hear of your dreadful situation. Who would have thought that your father would leave you destitute?
He had not, as far as Georgie knew. Her monies were being held back by her cousin. Had she not made that clear?
My great-aunt Lady Denholm is in need of a companion and I would be pleased to recommend you for the position. The pay is not much, of course, but you would have no need to worry about your next meal or having a roof over your head. However, I fear your pets would not be welcome. AuntDenholm has several dogs to which she is very attached, and they would not get along.
Georgie’s fist clenched without her volition, crumpling the paper.
She ought to have known any potential employer would never allow her to keep her otters.
She sank onto the chair near the window and looked out at the leaves that were just beginning to turn. Autumn was approaching and the otters would need to be brought indoors for their own safety. They certainly were not equipped to survive a harsh winter like the one they had had in Sussex only two years ago.
She would have to leave them here. With Peter.
I will have to leave Peter.
Her heart clenched as she cursed her own recklessness in accepting his hospitality. She had thought herself in control of her own feelings, told herself she could leave without a second thought, but she had been lying to herself just as much as she had lied to Peter.
She was in love with him. All unknowing, her feelings towards him—her admiration of his intellect, her appreciation of the gentle care he gave the people whose well-being he was responsible for, even his increasing affection for her otters—had grown from friendship to love.
The letter dropped from her hand onto the table as she buried her face in her palms, tears rising in her throat as she tried to swallow them back down.
He must never know, of course. There would be a terrible scandal if it came out that a bachelor clergyman had been living with an unmarried young woman for weeks on end. No one would ever believe it had been completely innocent on both their parts, not with the current reputation of the Avondales.
She had to leave before her masquerade was revealed. For his own good.
Even if it ripped out her own heart.
Late that afternoon,Peter tapped on the door of the small drawing room and opened it to see Morley set down his paintbrush and stretch. Another half-completed watercolor was on the table in front of him, now angled to catch the best light from the windows. A crumpled piece of paper—a letter?—was pushed away. Peter gave it a curious glance before he spoke.
“I have not seen you since breakfast this morning. Would you like to go for a walk?”
“Yes, of course,” Morley said. “I’m ready for a break.” With seeming nonchalance, he moved the painting to half-conceal the letter and got to his feet.
Morley fetched his hat from the front hallway and they strode off across the meadow. Peter pointed to a small hill in the distance, topped by a tree whose leaves were beginning to turn golden.
“Is it too far?”
“No,” Morley said. “I think it’s just about right.”
They talked of small things as they walked—the news of the parish, Morley’s progress on his sermon notes—but Peter savored having the company. After the previous evening’s fiasco, he had decided to enjoy having a companion while he could rather than pressing Morley to share his secrets. He had not seen much of Morley today, and the other man seemed tense this afternoon. Peter frowned to himself. If he needed to apologize for his manipulations, he was fully prepared to do so.
Peter noticed that Morley seemed to be uncharacteristically dawdling as they walked. “Is the distance too far?”
“No, not at all,” Morley replied. “The countryside is beautiful here.”
