"No," Peter said. "The point... the point of this conversation is that I love Georgie."
He looked defiantly at Philip, who seemed to be holding back a smile, and then back at Paul, who sighed.
"You may be at ease with that, at least. Since your twin and I have both made scandalous marriages, no one will be shocked at your having done the same."
Paul leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. "The point of this conversation is to offer you the living here at Kilbythorpe. And a few associated parishes as well."
"I... what?" Of all the things Peter had anticipated, this was the last one on his mind.
"I received word shortly after we arrived that Mr. Sloane has succumbed to his illness, poor fellow. That means the livings he held are now open. However, you have always said you intended to return to London once the matter was settled one way or the other."
"Yes, I did say that." To Peter's own surprise, the prospect no longer sparked any interest in him at all. He and Georgie had made a place for themselves in Kilbythorpe. One that depended more on their own actions than on either of their families.
"And what is your decision?"
Peter turned the matter over in his head. "Georgie would be miserable in London."
"It is where you have always aspired to work."
"Yes. I thought... I thought I could do the most good there. Help the most number of people."
"And now?"
"Now?" Peter contemplated the question. Each word emerged almost without his volition. "Now I have responsibilities beyond myself. Not only to Georgie, but to Kilbythorpe and St. Alcuin's."
He was silent for another long moment, then laughed. "I even find myself concerned about the church’s roof. Is that not odd?"
"Certainly not what I expected of you." Paul paused. "I must say you seem far more settled and comfortable here. Is it the village or your wife?"
"Both," Peter said decisively. "It is both.” He smiled at his brother. “And I have a notion for how to make that clear at last to everyone.”
As they begantheir journey back to the rectory, Georgie could not help but feel warmed by their visit. Other than his mother, Peter’s family had been so welcoming that she was reassured all would be well. Livesey himself had come in after his talk with Peter and they had had a pleasant conversation about the otters. It ended with her inviting him and the duchess to visit the rectory to meet them as soon as may be.
Beside her in the cabriolet, Peter cleared his throat. “Paul and I had a very interesting discussion.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Sloane has died.”
“Oh. The poor man.” She could not hold a grudge against a man she’d never met, even if she suspected he would have stuffed and mounted her pets.
“Paul asked me if I would like to take over the living here.”
Georgie turned to look at him, but he continued watching the road as he drove. “What did you say?”
“I said I needed to discuss it with my wife.” Glancing over at her, he gave her a quick grin. “After all, I cannot make such an important decision without her.”
The warm feeling in Georgie’s chest expanded and overflowed. She had friends, she had a family, and now she knew she had a husband who both loved and respected her, who was willing to treat her as a partner and helpmeet, not a child to be coddled.
“We can have a full discussion once we reach home, but… I am in favor of it.”
He turned to smile at her. “So am I.”
The Harvest Supperwas set for Sunday afternoon after church, and Georgie could not help catching the excitement of her friends and the rest of the village. Her burgundy walking dress was freshly arrived from York and the matching bonnet was finer than any she had possessed since her debut. Her hair was beginning to grow out, and she was able to pull a few curls out at her temples.
As they walked towards the church, villagers emerged from their homes with seeming casualness, gathering in small groups until Georgie realized she and Peter were leading what amounted to a procession.
“What on earth is going on?”