Divine (House of Oak Book 2)

by Nichole Van

  Georgiana laughed as Sebastian set her down in the kitchen of Duir Cottage. She did not know what the future would hold for them, but for now, it was enough to just be.

  To laugh with him, to revel in the incredible rightness of being in his arms, to wonder at the miraculous gift of his love.

  He loved her! This magnificent, amazing man had chosen her.

  Shaking his head at her, he stomped over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Dressed in a dark forest green cashmere sweater and jeans that made her heart skip. Though, honestly, the man would look devastating in anything. He kicked off the slip-on leather shoes he wore and then stripped off his thick socks.

  He patted his lap.

  “Sit.” It was not a request.

  Grinning, she walked over and sat primly on his knees.

  “Foot.” He held out a hand.

  Wryly, she curled her leg up, sighing as he wrapped his warm hand around her blue toes. Poor things. Clucking his tongue, he put his sock on her foot.

  “Other foot,” he commanded, repeating the process. Georgiana wiggled her toes for him.

  When he was satisfied, he tugged her to him for a lingering hug and kiss.

  “Better?”

  “Better,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

  He rose, setting her on her newly-stockinged feet.

  “Good.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Please.”

  He padded toward the fireplace, looking to put another log on the fire.

  She pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard and grabbed eggs from the fridge.

  She heard him move through the kitchen and down the hallway. Open the door to the cellar.

  “Honestly, Seb,” she called. “You check that thing every day. What would you do if the portal did work?”

  Silence.

  “Sebastian?”

  Nothing.

  She ran across the kitchen—slid, actually, in his thick socks—and into the closet.

  Paused on the stairs.

  The portal hummed, pulsed with electricity.

  “Sebastian?”

  But he was gone.

  Chapter 23

  Duir Cottage

  September 23-26, 2013

  Birthday in minus 15 thru 11 days plus two hundred years

  Georgiana spent the rest of Monday pacing in front of the closet door.

  She didn’t dare go into the cellar. James wasn’t home, and if she went into the cellar and was sucked through the portal, she might never see her brother again.

  But Sebastian!

  To not see his smiling face, to not feel the slow thump of his heart under her cheek, to not relax into his strength and courage.

  To not have him . . .

  She was sobbing in the hallway when James and Emme returned. Through hiccups and long pauses, she managed to tell them what had happened. James held her, and Emme listened as she cried out her fears and worries and heartache. Apparently, Sebastian’s reason for coming through the portal had been fulfilled. He had discovered the origins of Lord Zeus, and Georgiana had learned the truth of her affections for him. And so the portal had taken him home.

  But what about her? She and Sebastian were destined to be together, their circles completely linked. Of that, she was sure. The portal would most likely allow her to pass through. But knowing this, if she returned to 1813, the portal would probably be closed to her from that point on. There would be no coming back, no visiting James in the twenty-first century. She would be cut off from her brother forever.

  What to do? She felt hopelessly trapped between the centuries, aching for both. James had been her past. But Sebastian was her future.

  How could she live without him?

  Tuesday dawned dismal and dreary. A description which encompassed more than just the gloomy, autumnal weather. It was if all the world felt her distress and decided to join in the melancholy.

  He loved her.

  He had always loved her.

  She spent the entire day curled up on the couch, Staring at the fire and eating far too much chocolate ice cream. Digging up every memory she had of him. Sebastian defending her to the village boys, sitting by her bedside when she was ill. Waltzing with her at Stratton Hall. Begging her to marry him over and over. She had been such a blind fool.

  James or Emme sat patiently next to her throughout, James rubbing her hand. Even Marc called from Bangkok in an attempt to cheer her up. They were so incredibly sweet and supportive.

  Good, kind James. The person who, up until a month ago, had been the closest to her in the whole world. The man who was part brother, part father. The person who had taught her how to ride a horse, how to drive a gig, and how to shoot a rifle—much to Arthur’s dismay. The brother who searched tirelessly to find a cure for her consumption.

  How could she live without him?

  On Wednesday, Georgiana determined to at least take a shower and change into clean clothes. But she walked by his room. Which led to her walking into his room.

  Four hours later, James found her curled on Sebastian’s bed, cuddled up with a pile of his clothing, his nineteenth century green coat wrapped around her. Breathing in the lingering remnants of wool and leather and Sebastian.

  Her heart so heavy she could hardly speak, much less eat. Her toes were cold. She had forgotten to put on socks.

  How was she to live without someone to keep track of her toes? She was completely toe-irresponsible.

  Her future stretched before her, bleak and empty. Devoid of melting smiles, fierce protectiveness and toe-warming hands.

  By late afternoon, Emme finally convinced her to take a much-needed bath. After which Georgiana huddled in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire and cursed the fact she had nary a photo of Sebastian. Which lead to another violent bout of crying.

  What kind of terrible person was she to not have a single real thing from him?

  How could she live with herself?

  On Thursday, James and Emme staged an intervention.

  “Enough, Georgie,” James said as she lay on the couch, staring listlessly at the fire. “Stratton hasn’t died. He loves you and wants to marry you. You can join him.”

  Georgiana’s bottom lip quivered. She licked a tear off her lip.

  “But—but having him means losing you,” she whispered.

  Heaving a sigh, James wedged himself next to her on the couch, drawing her into his arms. She nestled into his shoulder.

  “Then stay.”

  Georgiana cried harder.

  “B-b-but that means leaving him,” she gasped.

  James held her, fingers stroking her hair, gazing sightlessly into the flames.

  “There is no way to make this better for you, sister dear,” he sighed. “Stratton is an earl now and justifiably tied to his life in the nineteenth century. He wants to make a difference, and I deeply admire him for it. He’s a good man, Georgie, and will do great things with his life.”

  Georgiana heaved a terrible sob and then swiped at her tears. Hiccupped. “Wh-Why must this be so difficult? I’ve turned into the sniveling heroine of a gothic novel—”

  “Hardly, my dear. You only wish to be the heroine—”

  “James—” she warned.

  “It’s true. As much as you want this to be a melodrama, it’s not. The decision is really quite straightforward.”

  “Please. There is nothing straightforward about this.” She thumped his chest for emphasis. “It’s an awful dilemma, full of heartache no matter what I decide.”

  He rested his head on her hair. “Life is full of hard choices, my dear. Life’s greatest joys are often tied to life’s greatest sorrows. Joy and pain are just two sides of the same coin. You can’t have one without the other.”

  James took in a deep breath.

  “I can’t believe I am actually going to do this. I have a confession to make,” he said after a moment. “Something I have never told you. Are you sure you want to hear? It’s not my finest ho
ur.”

  Mutely, she nodded her head against his chest.

  “Right before Papa died, I intended to leave. I had been saving my allowance for months and managed to purchase a berth aboard a clipper bound for India.”

  Georgiana stilled.

  How had she not known this?

  “But then Papa died, and I found myself faced with the daunting task of being scarcely twenty years old and suddenly head of the family. Mama was beside herself with grief—”

  Georgiana wiped a tear from her cheek. “I remember. It was terrible. All the wailing . . .”

  “Exactly. So I sent you to live with Grandmama, as I was overwhelmed and could scarcely hold things together myself—”

  “Which was a wonderful choice. We moved through our grief together and—and I met Sebastian . . .” Her voice wavered.

  James nodded.

  “I didn’t bring this up to remind you of the past. I just wanted to help you understand what happened during those years.”

  Georgiana sniffed.

  James continued. “After Papa died, I didn’t give up on the dream of leaving. I worked toward slipping off on some adventure a few years later, figuring I could leave things to Arthur’s care, but then Mama died. And we both remember what a difficult time that was . . .”

  She did remember. She had been all of sixteen and so much in need of a mother’s care. But James had shouldered the burden even then, helping her learn to navigate social situations. Helping her to move between being a girl and becoming a woman.

  “I still wanted to leave. But then, a few years later, you fell ill. I committed to being with you until whatever end God saw fit to bestow. If you had recovered in the nineteenth century, I planned on seeing you happily married, and then I would head off on my grand adventure. Leaving was always in my plans.”

  “But you didn’t leave, James. Well, at least, you didn’t leave me. You could have, but you always chose to do the honorable thing and—”

  “Hush. Let me finish. I am eternally grateful for your health. For the chance I have had to see you whole and well and so—so happy. You have always been a cheerful sort of person, full of energy and sunshine. But when Stratton walks into the room, you become incandescent. Lit from within in a way I can barely describe . . .”

  Something wet hit her hand.

  Instantly, she pushed herself up to sitting. Seeing his liquid eyes.

  “No! Nononono . . . James, I cannot bear to think of being parted from you—”

  “Georgie, I never expected you and I would spend the rest of our lives in each other’s pockets.” He touched her cheek. “That’s what I am trying to tell you. I had always seen us apart. I suppose I have been fighting the reality of our separation, selfishly pulling you back to me.”

  He gave a wistful travesty of a smile.

  “I love you, Georgie. You have been one of the best and brightest parts of my life. But”—he held up a silencing hand—“despite my great love for you, it is not the same kind of love I have for Emme. Nor should it be. There is a reason why we leave our parents and siblings to join with our spouse.”

  “Oh James . . .”

  “We will be okay, both of us. It is enough for me to know you are happy and cared for and deeply, deeply loved. Stratton is a marvelous man. I could not give you up to anyone less than what he is.”

  James brushed a tear off of her cheek. Georgiana sniffled and reached up and did the same for him.

  “Besides,” he continued, “I think you have a love letter in 1813 you need to write. I would hate for you to mess up the space-time continuum somehow—”

  “Oh my! I had almost forgotten about that ridiculous love note. You’re right. I do need to write it.”

  Sebastian. How she adored him.

  Beloved keeper of my soul . . . wrap me in the light of your love.

  She would mean every single word.

  Of course, just thinking about that letter brought home the reality of her decision. Choking, she buried her face in James’ chest again.

  “Be free, sister of mine,” James whispered into her hair. “And think positively. We do have another brother. Imagine Arthur’s joy in being able to casually drop ‘My sister, Lady Stratton, said the other day’ into every other conversation.”

  Even through her tears, Georgiana managed a good, long chuckle.

  Chapter 24

  Arthur’s study

  Haldon Manor

  October 6, 1813

  Only 2 days until birthday

  Sebastian was gone.

  Georgiana had arrived at Haldon Manor in the rain, dripping wet, wearing the same muslin dress and blue spencer she had on when she left. Aching for Sebastian’s embrace, straining for that first glimpse of him. For that moment when their eyes would meet, and he would know she had chosen him.

  Over everyone and everything else.

  But she arrived home to find Sebastian had just left.

  Furthermore, final preparations were underway for a ball to be held that evening, thrusting the entire house into chaos. The great hall had been transformed into a ballroom with greenery and flowers festooning the walls.

  Marianne squealed in delight over her return but had immediately been drawn back to directing footmen moving furniture around in the drawing room. Arthur emerged from (hiding in) his study, giving her an affectionate embrace and kiss upon the cheek, cheerfully welcoming her home. Despite everything, she did love her stodgy brother too.

  She should have been desolate. She had rushed to Haldon Manor, expecting to find Sebastian here, waiting for her. To not find him was unsettling.

  But being back home felt peaceful, calm. Right. Even with Sebastian’s departure.

  After greeting everyone, Georgiana had stolen to her room for a warm bath and even warmer set of clothes.

  Her leave-taking from James and Emme had been heartbreaking. The goodbyes had gone on for hours, days really. It had taken her a week to reach the emotional point where she could go through with it, to pack all the last vestiges of twenty-first century life and say adieu. Marc had finished up filming and even arrived in time to watch one last Broncos game with her. They were all headed off to the United States next. First to visit Emme and Marc’s mother in Denver and then on to Utah for some red rockin’, as Marc called it. Whatever that meant.

  James was still decidedly worried about the whole Lord Zeus intrigue and wanted to give Sebastian a little time to investigate. He had made Georgiana promise to keep a stun gun and mace on her person at all times.

  But in the end, coming back had felt unbearably right. Without Sebastian, life in 2013 stretched before her with numbing sameness.

  True, she didn’t know what life in 1813 held for her, but she felt alive with hope. Hope that with Sebastian, her life would be full of purpose and belonging.

  Now if she could only find him. Sebastian had left just hours before her arrival.

  “. . . and I am not entirely sure where,” Arthur said. “I was out hunting early this morning—anything to escape the chaos of ball preparations—and returned to find that Stratton had received a letter and been called away.”

  They sat in his study, the bustle of servants, running to and fro, a thrum of noise in the background. The steady rain had eased, and now sun peeked through the racing clouds. The light in the room swiveled between gloomy dimness and sunny cheer.

  “Thank you for concealing our absence, by the way. The trip through the portal was most unexpected.”

  Arthur waived his hand. “Well, I could not allow the entire affair to reflect poorly on your reputations. I put it about that you rushed off to Aunt Maud in Shropshire, helping her recover from the putrid sore throat. While I believe Stratton left to attend to business in London. Of course, when Lady Ambrosia and Lady Michael pressed me for the particulars, I did not have any. I am hardly in Stratton’s confidence, am I?” He winked good-naturedly.

  “Ah. Are the ladies still in the neighborhood?”

  He shrugge
d. “Lady Michael and her daughters left not long after Stratton. Lady Ambrosia has remained, though I believe she has taken to plaguing Linwood and Blackwell at Kinningsley. You should see them all tonight at the ball.”

  Georgiana smiled. “The ball looks to be lovely. I am sure Sebastian will be sad to miss it.”

  “Yes, Marianne is quite put out over it actually. She had planned the ball for tonight, as it is the full moon. A festive evening to honor Stratton’s continuing presence in the neighborhood. He was to have been the guest of honor. Though you will be true guest of honor, now that you are here to stay.”

  “Thank you, brother. It is wonderful to be home.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

  “Stratton waited for you, you know. He has been here for the last two weeks, constantly sending out letters and closeting himself with Sir Henry or Lord Blackwell. Or both. Though I am not privy as to why. He confided in them but not me. Most likely, they have been sorting out this mess with the late earl’s will.”

  She nodded. That was probably not what Sebastian discussed with Sir Henry and Blackwell. Undoubtedly, he was working to uncover Lord Zeus.

  Knowing that Zeus was blackmailing Lord Blackwell, Sebastian most likely confronted him, letting Blackwell know they were aware of his problems. She would have loved to see Blackwell’s reaction when faced with his involvement with Lord Zeus. Bringing in Sir Henry was probably a good idea, as they knew Zeus had some ties to Tangert. Both men knew the former Lord Tangert and his gooseberry society. Pity no one knew what Lord Zeus looked like.

  But she was comforted to know Blackwell and Sir Henry would be around to help. Now that she had a hope-filled future to look forward to, she preferred to get her thrills through books, not real-life cloak-and-dagger.

  “Stratton most certainly didn’t seem too concerned about his birthday, which is now only two days hence.” Arthur shook his head. “Anyway, a letter arrived via courier at first light this morning, and Stratton headed off post-haste to parts unknown.”