First Comes Scandal (Rokesbys #4)(75)

And then he said his horse was saddled and he’d be off as soon as he kissed her. He’d been playful and sweet, but the reality of his oh-so-imminent departure was like a cold, wet wind.

He kissed her, and he was gone.

And he’d stayed gone for almost a week.

Georgie had pouted off and on for days. There had been a lot to do, so she stayed busy, but she did not like that he’d left her behind.

Yes, she knew she could not go with him to Edinburgh, at least not yet. He was still living in a rooming house, one not suitable for women.

And yes, she was fully cognizant of the fact that he hadn’t left her. He had to go back to school. As was necessary. He was a student, and he’d already missed several examinations.

And yes, fine, she’d known this was coming. It wasn’t a surprise, and she had no right to be petulant.

But she was. She was in a new place, a new country for heaven’s sake, in what felt like the wilds of Scotland, and even though she knew Nicholas had behaved exactly as he must, she felt abandoned.

So she’d thrown herself into getting Scotsby up and running. Georgie had never quite subscribed to the belief that idle hands really were the devil’s playthings, but busy ones usually worked well to keep one’s mind off the unpleasant.

But there was only so much to do. Mrs. Hibbert had also taken up the task of getting the house in order, and to be frank, she was better at it than Georgie. Furthermore, it was Georgie’s aim to not be living at Scotsby very long—weren’t they planning to lease a house in Edinburgh, after all? How much work did she really wish to put into a house that would soon sit empty?

She was bored.

And she was lonely.

And Nicholas was hours away, learning all sorts of interesting things.

Now, nearly a week after he’d left for Edinburgh, she tried not to look impatient as she waited for him to return. There was no getting around feeling impatient, but she didn’t need to be obvious about it.

As it turned out, when one was the mistress of a house it was not as easy to blend into the woodwork as when one was merely the daughter. At Aubrey Hall she’d curled up on a window seat with a book, or retired to her room and no one thought twice.

Scotsby was much smaller, though. And as the only family member in residence, she had the undivided attention of the staff.

All of them.

It was impossible to get a moment of true solitude. Georgie had tried to feign not feeling well, but the looks of concern were immediate and obvious. Clearly her mother had sent them all off with strict instructions not to endanger her “delicate health.”

So that hadn’t worked.

But it was finally Friday, the day Nicholas had said he’d return. He had no classes on Saturday or Sunday (although he’d warned her this was not always the case), and he’d promised to ride home that evening. Georgie had no idea what time to expect him. By her calculations it could be anywhere from four hours past noon into the late evening.

She hoped it was on the early side. The cook Mrs. Hibbert had hired from the village was a veritable fount of dire stories of highwaymen and mischievous fairies. And while Georgie was not too worried about fairies, the idea of highwaymen did make her concerned for Nicholas’s status as a solitary rider.

Maybe he should have used the carriage.

It would have made his journey all the more slower, though.

Georgie sighed. She was literally waiting by the window.

“I am pathetic,” she said to no one in particular.

No, she wasn’t pathetic. She was just lonely. Which was startling in its own way. She’d always been content when left to her own devices. Certainly she enjoyed gatherings with friends and family, but she’d never been the sort of person who could not get along on her own. She liked the quiet. She enjoyed solitude.

She just hadn’t realized it was possible to miss someone quite so much.

At nine that evening she was back at the window, back to feeling pathetic. To her credit, she hadn’t been there all day. After feeling sorry for herself earlier that afternoon she’d got up and found some mostly unnecessary household tasks to complete. Then she’d had her supper. She was hungry, and she knew Nicholas would not want her to wait.

But now she was back to waiting for him. The days were still growing longer; they were almost to the solstice, and the sun would not set until nearly ten. And it would not be true dark until a good hour after that. Although Scotsby was in a fairly wooded area—it did make the night seem darker than it really was.

But apparently the old saying about a watched pot was true, because the minute Georgie got up to use the chamber pot was the minute Nicholas rode into the drive, and he was already in the front hall by the time she’d come back from her room.

“You’re home!” It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms. She would have done, had he not looked so tired.

And wet. It wasn’t raining at Scotsby, but clearly it had been somewhere between there and Edinburgh.

“I’ll have Marcy draw you a bath,” Georgie said, reaching for his hat before Wheelock-the-younger could take it. “You look terribly cold.”

“Summer in Scotland is like winter anywhere else,” Nicholas said, giving a little shiver as he shrugged off his coat.

“How was your week? Did you learn anything new?”

He looked at her with faint surprise. She supposed he was not used to such interest in his studies. “Yes, of course,” he said. “We’ve been focused on the properties of circulation primarily. Plus a bit on—”