Page 67 of Otters and Obstacles
“I must go. Philip and Paul are back from their ride, and Paul is asking for me.” Peter bowed to each lady in turn, and kissed Georgie’s hand before striding out the drawing room door.
Georgie watched him go, then looked to where Mrs. Dinsdale and Miss Dinsdale sat. As was now usual for her, Miss Dinsdale looked a little sulky, and Georgie recalled what Peter had told her about Miss Dinsdale’s romantic troubles and their connection to getting the necessary slate for the church’s roof repairs.
Perhaps there was something she could do to help.
She circulated through the room a bit and stopped in front of the Dinsdales.
“May I sit and converse for a moment? I feel it has been an age since we talked.” Georgie was unsure if either of them had spoken to her directly since her marriage.
With ill grace, Mrs. Dinsdale nodded, and Georgie sat, smiling at both of them.
“Are you looking forward to the Harvest Supper tomorrow?”
“I suppose,” Miss Dinsdale said with ill-grace, and her mother elbowed her with a frown.
“Dear Celeste had a... disappointment at last year’s Harvest Festival,” Mrs. Dinsdale said smoothly. “It is no longer her favorite event.”
Georgie nodded. “It really is one of the few in the area, is it not? The few large ones, that is.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Mrs. Dinsdale said. Miss Dinsdale toed at the carpet with her slipper, her face downcast.
Cautiously, Georgie said, “Perhaps you might wish to expand Miss Dinsdale’s social horizons a bit with a season in York, oreven Bath. She is a pretty and charming girl”—when she was not sulking—“and would likely take quite well.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Dinsdale said coldly as Miss Dinsdale turned eager eyes on her mother. “And where did you have your season, Lady Peter?”
“In Bath,” Georgie said promptly. “It was abbreviated due to my grandmama’s death, but I had a lovely time and still have friends I made there.”
“Please, Mama?” Miss Dinsdale said.
Georgie suppressed her smile of satisfaction. “There are many worthy gentlemen in both places. Even if Miss Dinsdale does not make a match immediately, it can only do her good to get out of her current social circles.” And away from everyone who knew she had been jilted.
Miss Dinsdale and Georgie both held their breaths as Mrs. Dinsdale took a moment to think before looking at her daughter. Her stern face softened a little.
“I… will take your advice under consideration, Lady Peter.”
Nodding, Georgie sat back in her chair and changed the subject. Perhaps she had at least planted a seed that could sprout into a new roof for the church.
Peter stoppedin front of the door to his brother’s study, his hand poised to knock. He had few good memories of this room where his father would demand Peter answer for such high crimes as correcting his tutor (although Peter had been right) and emptying his pockets for a beggar woman. It was here, perhaps, where he had first learned to keep his own counsel and solve any problems that might arise before they came to his father’s attention.
He sighed, and knocked.
“Come in.”
Peter opened the door and stepped into the room. It no longer resembled his father’s domain, which had been dark and chilly at the same time. New fabrics and wallpaper lightened the room while still keeping it masculine, and an assortment of paintings graced the wall, many of which had been painted by his sister-in-law, the duchess.
Including one of… a horse?
"Sit down," Paul said, and Peter sat. He glanced to the corner and saw Philip in a chair of his own, legs stretched out in front of him and hands folded across his midriff. Philip widened his eyes, and Peter scowled at him. Philip didn’t need to warn him. He already knew he was in for a scolding.
"I believe I have most of the story from my steward, who witnessed the scene your... wife's cousin made at the Harvest Festival, but I would like to hear your side as well."
Taking a deep breath, Peter told them everything. The arrival of the otters, followed by Georgie. Their budding friendship. His realization Georgie was a woman. Their marriage in York. Their life together in Kilbythorpe.
Paul nodded along, his expression so impassive that Peter could not help but think his explanations were not being well received, but he persisted.
"Georgie has found a place here, I think," Peter said. "The villagers adore her and most of them rallied around us when her cousin made his accusations. The rest came around after he tried to steal the otters."
Paul looked momentarily distracted. He had never been able to resist an interesting animal, and he seemed to find most of them interesting. “Yes, the otters. I would like to meet them as soon—but that is not the point of this conversation."
