Page 60 of Otters and Obstacles
Peter patted her hand where it curled around his forearm. “I know. But all should be well by this time tomorrow.”
Dolefully, Georgie nodded and allowed him to lead her into the drawing room, where the large French doors would show any observers that the otters were in the house.
Georgie pretended to read while Peter pretended to work. Neither of them made any progress.
As darkness fell,Peter led Georgie into the dining room for supper, keeping to their routine as they had agreed. Her hand was cold with nervousness under his. He longed to reassure her with kisses, but he could still feel the distance between them.
If he failed to protect her otters after all of the promises he had made to her, she would never trust him again. And he would never be able to forgive himself.
They ate in near-silence, Mrs. Barwick bringing in rounds of dishes that tempted neither of them.
After much discussion with the other gentlemen at the church, Peter had decided it was most likely the road from the village that was being watched by their villain, so when it came time to gather at the rectory, the board members came one-by-one from other directions a stranger would not know to watch: across the fields, around past the lane, or through the wold to the back of the rectory.
It was certainly possible Sir John would realize Peter had called in reinforcements, but Peter felt reasonably confident the other man was arrogant enough to think he could still steal the otters even if Peter had.
The men settled into Georgie’s art studio at the front of the house. The curtains were drawn tight, but they only lit a few candles so as not to alert any watchers. Mrs. Barwick bustled back and forth with light snacks and pots of coffee as theyfinalized their strategy. Georgie sat in the corner with the otter basket on her lap, watching and listening. A few glances were cast her way at the beginning, but the men seemed to quickly accept she ought to be included in the plan to protect her pets. Robby crouched on the floor next to her… or, rather, next to the basket of otters. Peter suspected the otters had gained another protector.
“What time did you hear the sounds?” Mr. Coverdale asked.
“Just before dawn.” Peter frowned. “We do not want to count on him returning at the same time, however. We shall need to keep watch through the night.”
Peter and Georgie continued their evening routine for any unseen watchers until, at last, it was time to return the otters to the coop. He watched, concerned, as Georgie discreetly brushed tears from her eyes while shutting the protesting animals into their basket.
“Do you… do you want me to take them for you?”
“No,” she said, her jaw set. “I must do it myself.”
“Allow me to come with you, then.” Before she could protest, he went ahead of her into the kitchen and fetched a lantern from beside the back door, lighting the candle inside it with the banked kitchen fire before opening the door for her. After a slight hesitation, Georgie stepped outside.
Georgie had to admit,she felt better having Peter with her in the darkened garden. Surely her cousin would not dare to attack her with Peter at her side. As they walked, it was only natural for him to slip his arm around her waist, and for her to tilt her head close to his.
They reached the fenced yard of the coop, where Peter unlocked and opened the gate for her. Georgie opened the door to the coop itself and half-poured the basket of chittering otters through it, closing the door before they could slip back out. She latched the door and stepped back.
Peter put a comforting hand on the small of her back and leaned close. “Mr. Kilvington is already watching from the drawing room,” he murmured in her ear.
Georgie stiffened her spine. If they were to have any chance of justice, they must take this risk.
It was the only way.
As they returned to the house arm-in-arm, Georgie carried the basket back and deposited it inside, next to the kitchen door. She usually returned it to the drawing room, but she wanted it to be near at hand. Just in case.
At the foot of the stairs, Peter kissed her on the cheek. “Try to get some rest. I will come upstairs and fetch you if anything happens.”
Georgie nodded, but she had another plan as she climbed the stairs. She had not discussed it with Peter ahead of time, but he would know it was the most practical decision.
As she descended the stairs again an hour later, boots clomping, Peter poked his head out of her art studio and sighed in resignation at the sight of her once again in her male clothing.
“It’s the best way for me to avoid being recognized,” she said, feeling a little defensive. He smiled at her, though his eyes were still worried.
“You are right. I only wish I could stay with you, but…”
“But you have the best chance of being able to overpower Cousin John,” she said firmly. “I will be quite far away from the coop in the stable. I’m certain I will be fine.”
Peter stepped forward and took her hands in his, his eyes serious as they searched her face. “Be careful, Georgie. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, his night beard rough against her lips. “You must be careful as well. Promise me.”
“Of course.” Diffidently, he lowered his head to hers, his mouth within a few inches of hers. After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him quickly.
