Divine (House of Oak Book 2)

by Nichole Van

  Like a fool, he had believed himself in his own house but then walked through a familiar door and found an entirely different world lay on the other side.

  Everything changed.

  Her toes stilled as she recounted meeting Shatner D’Avery and gave a brief outline of their history. D’Avery wanted to move their relationship into something more serious. He seemed like a decent sort: charitable, devoted, nice.

  Sebastian loathed him.

  Ridiculous D’Avery probably knew all about her toes.

  “So what prompted you to return to 1813? It seems like your life here has been quite settled.”

  Sebastian gave his brave smile. The one that didn’t touch his eyes.

  Georgiana pulled away and looked at him.

  Pityingly.

  Sebastian swallowed. What else did he expect?

  He was pitiful.

  “Let me show you,” she murmured, unfolding herself off the couch and wandering into the front parlor. The sudden loss of her body heat startled him. He missed it immediately.

  She returned and sat down away from him—unfortunately—handing him a letter inside some sort of clear protective covering.

  “This arrived via post about the middle of August.”

  Sebastian looked at the letter and examined the signature first, hissing in a breath, head rearing back in surprise.

  “How—What—this seems to be your own handwriting, Georgie. But the date . . . How is this even—”

  “Exactly!” Georgiana studied him with a rueful look. “I got this letter—which I still have not written, might I add—with a date and the mysterious content. How could I not be curious? You know me.”

  Did he?

  Sebastian gave a weak smile and then actually read the letter.

  The words ambushed him, jumping out . . . a hole in my heart the shape and size of you . . . gutting whatever shreds of hope he had clung to . . . Comfort me with the warmth of your embrace . . .

  She loved someone. Enough to plead: Wrap me in the light of your love.

  A gasp echoed in the room. He was embarrassingly sure it had been his.

  Who could she love like this? Surely it would never be himself.

  Pitiful.

  “I know—it was a shock for me too. It’s just so enigmatic, don’t you think?” Georgiana patted his arm.

  “Who?” was all Sebastian could manage to say.

  “I honestly don’t know. I don’t feel these things for anyone. At least, not right now. But once I received this letter, I realized I must return to the past this autumn. It seemed like a sign that I needed to go home, at least for a visit.” She gave a lost little laugh and shrugged her shoulders.

  He shook his head. “Visit? You found yourself in the center of a real-life two hundred year old mystery and jumped at the chance to solve it, more like. Visit, indeed.”

  Only Georgiana.

  “Can you blame me, Seb? How could I resist such a letter? I’m fairly certain it’s not an actual love letter. I probably made . . . will make? . . . the whole thing up. I don’t feel this way about Shatner, at least not yet. Besides, he doesn’t even live in the right century to receive the letter.”

  He should have felt at least a flicker of hope at her statement. But despair had firmly settled in, determined to build a fine house in his soul and stay a while.

  He had known a girl. A girl who smiled sunshine and lived laughter.

  But this person curled up on the end of the sofa was now a woman, full of complexity and ambiguity and love that the girl could never have understood.

  With toes he did not know.

  What was he to do? Was his love for her nothing more than affection born of long habit?

  Without Georgiana Elizabeth Augusta Knight as his guiding star, what would his life become?

  Chapter 17

  Sebastian stared at the letter. Georgiana felt like snapping her fingers in his face to break the tension.

  He was not dealing well with any of the events of the last couple hours. Granted, few could travel two hundred years with aplomb and grace.

  He sucked in a deep breath and then handed the letter back to her with a faint smile.

  “Intriguing,” was all he said, his deep aristocratic voice blending with the hushed pop of the fire.

  He held her gaze for a moment, liquid pools of chocolate night. Now shuttered. Asking everything and revealing nothing.

  He seemed to be coming undone, nonessential bits of him being stripped away. First his coat and cravat and now his charm and endless good humor.

  Unraveled.

  What had she expected? The old Sebastian she knew?

  She liked old Sebastian. He was uncomplicated and charming and simple to understand.

  But now she found herself building him anew, reconstructing him from the ashes of the boy.

  A somber stranger—so large and powerful—who fascinated her.

  The boy had been a cherished friend. Nothing more. But this new man . . .

  He held her spellbound. And she was honest enough with herself to admit there was nothing platonic about it.

  The thought both excited and frightened her.

  He turned to stare at the fire and relaxed back into the sofa. The sun had set and the room deepened into gloom. Firelight flickered across his face, casting all the crags and crevices of its surface into sharp relief: the strong line of his nose, the darkening stubble on his chin, the angular cut of his side whiskers. Muscles moved underneath his fine linen shirt.

  Vividly, she recalled the warmth of him, wrapping her hands around his arm and tucking herself against his side. Feeling the flex and subtle movements of his tendons under her cheek. Some unknown part of her desperate to learn everything about him.

  How could she not long to curl into his strength?

  A series of beeps broke the silence. Georgiana grabbed her phone.

  A Skype call.

  “Georgie!” James greeted her, holding his own phone between his hands. He shook his head, hair tousled and still sleepy.

  Hearing her brother’s voice, Sebastian turned, raising his eyebrows.

  “Good morning to you too, James,” Georgiana said. James smiled at her and ran a hand through his golden hair, making it stand even more on end.

  “I didn’t expect to see you for weeks, maybe even months. It was wonderful to wake to your text.” James stifled a yawn and adjusted the loose white shirt he wore, his eyes remarkably blue in his tanned face. “Please tell me you are back for good.”

  “I don’t know. I still haven’t written that letter.” Georgiana shrugged. “You look like you’ve been spending time on the beach. I don’t remember your hair ever being quite so blond. Where are you?”

  James smiled wryly and swiveled his phone camera round, slowly panning the scene. He sat on the edge of a bed, draped in white netting. On every side, the building opened up to reveal crystalline turquoise waters, ocean waves lapping.

  “Fiji.” James sighed the word. “It’s the most unreal place. Did you know you can rent a cottage on the ocean? I don’t think Emme will ever leave.”

  “That’s true,” Emme called from somewhere out of the frame. “This place is uh-mazing!”

  “It looks warm.” Georgiana flexed her bare toes, which were starting to feel the nip of the brisk autumn evening.

  “It is,” James said with a laugh. “You should join us. You could be here in just a day or two.”

  Georgiana sighed. “Maybe, but things are a little problematic and—”

  “Ah, Georgie. How did I know you were going to say that? So what’s up?”

  With a rueful look, Georgiana tapped her phone screen and switched from the front to the back facing camera, showing James the man sitting on the sofa next to her.

  For his part, Sebastian merely inched his eyebrows upward and folded his arms across his chest. The sidelight from the fire bathed him in moody, golden light.

  He looked dashingly impressive.

  �
�What the devil? Who—?!” James exclaimed and then sat up straighter, suddenly becoming less a beach bum and more a nineteenth century gentleman.

  Sebastian somehow managed to raise his eyebrows even higher.

  “You can see me then, Knight?” he asked.

  “Georgie, turn the dashed phone around so I can speak face-to-face with your gentleman caller.”

  Sighing, Georgiana switched back to the front facing camera and handed Sebastian the phone, scooting to sit next to him again, hips touching. She had been looking for an excuse to do so anyway. The man made an excellent heater.

  At least, that is what she told herself.

  Sebastian stared at the phone screen, obviously trying to merge the image of a rumpled, half-dressed James with the man he had met in the nineteenth century.

  James gave Sebastian the same assessing look. “You look familiar, sir,” he said.

  “Yes, we have met once or twice. Lord Stratton, at your service.” Sebastian nodded his head.

  Poor Sebastian. Georgiana was quite sure it was the oddest introduction of his life. What was the expected protocol? Did one bow to a smart phone?

  “Stratton?” James’ forehead wrinkled. “But—what of the earl and Lord Harward—I don’t remember—”

  “James, this is my friend, Sebastian Carew. You remember, the vicar’s stepson who lived near Lyndenbrooke.” Georgiana leaned into Sebastian so her face showed on the screen too. “Well, Lord Harward and his family were killed in a carriage accident which caused the poor old earl to expire from shock. All resulting in Sebastian inheriting the earldom.”

  James nodded, as if trying to piece it all together. And then he gave them both a decidedly arch look.

  “And why are you here, Stratton, if I may ask?”

  Georgiana felt Sebastian’s lungs deflate, air rushing out. “I . . . experienced some confusion and accidentally went through the time portal. Georgiana—uh, Miss Knight—was kind enough to follow me.”

  Taking the phone from his hand, Georgiana cuddled closer to Sebastian. Despite the fire, she could feel the evening chill seeping in. He was so warm.

  James smiled, his eyes not missing the fact that Georgiana and Sebastian were huddled together on the sofa.

  “Forgive the old-fashioned nature of this question, but may I ask what your intentions are toward my sister?”

  Sebastian instantly stiffened.

  “James! How dare you embarrass Sebastian by asking—”

  “My intentions are most honorable, Knight. And I must say that your question, to me, is anything but old-fashioned,” Sebastian said, his voice a wonder of irony. “However, your sister has already repeatedly refused my many offers to make her my countess.”

  James grimaced. “Pity. I had always heard you were a decent sort, Stratton. Give her time. Though heaven knows she would try a saint.” He shook his head.

  “Pardon me, James. I am sitting right here.” Georgiana waved her hand in front of the screen.

  “Oh, I know,” he replied without a trace of apology.

  “Yes, she can be a sore trial,” Sebastian agreed.

  “It’s her fascination with mysteries,” James commiserated.

  “Exactly. And the endless curiosity.”

  “Excuse me. Yoo-hoo. Still here.” Georgiana waved her hand again.

  “She has no fear. She actually likes being scared.” A smile teased the edges of Sebastian’s face.

  James shuddered. “Imagine trying to raise her. It was ghastly.”

  “You poor man.” Sebastian clicked his tongue without a trace of sarcasm. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

  “Still here.”

  James nodded. “I’ve often wondered if my hair is truly blond or just shot through with white from her antics.”

  “No wonder you are a man of such upstanding character.”

  “Precisely.” James scrubbed his hand through his hair again. “The refiner’s fire and all that.”

  Both men suddenly grinned widely at each other.

  “I hate you both so much.” Georgiana tried to keep her expression mock-severe.

  James laughed and looked at her. “Are you sure you won’t accept his offer, Georgie? Assuming Stratton still wants your troublesome self, of course.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “I have been reevaluating my offer.”

  Georgiana’s stomach instantly dropped. Was he serious—?

  “Wise man,” James agreed.

  “I am generally considered a fount of wisdom.” Sebastian made a show of piously examining his fingernails.

  James sighed. “’Tis a pity. Arthur would probably wet his breeches with glee over the thought of an alliance with the Earl of Stratton.”

  “It’s entirely possible he already has,” Sebastian deadpanned, head still down.

  James let out a crack of laughter. “Damn, but I like you, Stratton.”

  “The feeling is mutual, Knight.” Sebastian grinned, lifting his head.

  “Like the brother I never had,” James said wistfully.

  “Dang, that was cold, James,” Emme’s voice called. “Though funnier if Arthur were here.”

  Sebastian laughed. In a flash, he was that boy Georgiana knew. She could feel the tension ease out of him.

  “Knight, your sister has run me ragged these last few weeks. At the rate she is going, she will either get herself killed or—”

  “Or you will kill her yourself?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Yes, that is the Georgie we all know and love.”

  “Are you both quite through?” Georgiana fixed them with a hard look.

  Both men stared at her, eyes wide and innocent.

  Emme suddenly stuck her dark, curly head into the frame. “They’re bromancing, Georgie. You might want to give them a moment. Let them work it out of their systems.”

  Emme sat down on the bed next to James and slowly surveyed Sebastian, tossing Georgiana a decidedly arch look—a look that clearly said Emme did not find Sebastian wanting.

  “Okay, seriously, Georgie. What have you been up to?” James fixed her with his sternest I-am-your-older-brother stare.

  With a grimace, Georgiana started at the beginning and told them everything. Her letter, the glowing Jupiter symbol, the threatening notes, Miss Franklin’s untimely death.

  Somewhere between the Jupiter symbol on Blackwell’s walking stick and Lady Ambrosia’s terrified warnings, Georgiana realized her toes were no longer cold. Sebastian had wrapped one of his large hands around them. A strong, blessedly dry hand.

  Curiously, his warm fingers on her toes did funny things to her stomach. And her breathing, making it difficult to keep a coherent train of thought.

  Swallowing, Georgiana finished the story, recounting everything from her final conversation with Lady Ambrosia.

  “Georgiana Elizabeth Augusta Knight.” James hung his head between his arms, shaking it back and forth. “Wow! I’m feeling such a strong urge to strangle you right now.”

  “I would be more than happy to do the honors, Knight,” Sebastian offered, giving Georgiana’s toes a hard squeeze.

  James groaned. “So, let me get this straight. You pretended to be an agent of Lord Zeus to both Blackwell and Lady Ambrosia. This Lord Zeus who, I might add, has shown no compunction whatsoever in murdering other meddling young ladies. What did you think he would do once he found out about your duplicity? Pat your head and laugh at the good joke?”

  “Hear, hear,” Sebastian agreed, his voice deep and rumbly.

  “Naturally, James, I could not have anticipated death would have been—”

  “Georgie, you have made yourself a wanted woman.”

  She swallowed.

  It figured it would happen to her eventually. And it was still the tiniest bit thrilling. Well, it was actually excessively thrilling, but given the way Sebastian and James were staring at her . . .

  She wisely held her tongue.

  “What are we to do with her, Knight?” Sebastian p
inched the bridge of his nose.

  “Nothing.” James shook his head at her. “You say the portal is closed. So Georgie isn’t going anywhere.”

  Georgiana opened her mouth to speak, but James cut her off with a sweep of his hand.

  “No, Georgie. Even if Stratton here decides to return—which I don’t see what would keep him in this century given his responsibilities in 1813—”

  “Agreed. I intend to return as soon as the portal allows it,” Sebastian murmured.

  James nodded his agreement. “However, you—Georgiana—will stay. I don’t care that you haven’t written that letter yet. I won’t risk your life over this foolishness.”

  Silence.

  Waves sloshed soothingly. The fire popped cheerily.

  “For the record, I am truly sorry.” Georgiana chewed her cheek. “I obviously did not mean for the charade to go this far. But why am I here?”

  “Georgie—”

  “We are not going to argue—”

  “No, hear me out.” She held out a pleading hand. “Why did the portal work? Why were we able to come through and, yet, now can’t return? We know the portal only works when one’s life path necessitates a trip through time, when people and events are linked. Given that, would it not seem logical there is something we need to accomplish? Or at least something Sebastian or I must do here?”

  James arched an eyebrow at her.

  “That’s actually not a bad point,” he said after a second

  “There must be something we need to research or divine here—”

  “Yes, but the universe is notorious for not allowing you to see things from your own life, remember?” Emme interjected. “How can you do any research?”

  They all pondered that thought.

  “Well, we can at least try,” Georgiana shrugged. “It will give us something to do.”

  “Agreed.” James ran a hand through his hair again. “Emme and I will cut our trip short and head home in a day or two. I’ve been regretting not flying back to see you anyway. I’m glad you are here to stay. Welcome home, sister dearest.”

  After ending the conversation with James, Sebastian was surprised Georgiana stayed tucked against his side, head resting on his shoulder. He still had his hand wrapped around her unknown toes.