Nicholas reached forward and took her hand. “I’ll do it this week, I promise.”

She nodded, then managed to wait five whole seconds before asking, “Once you do contact him, how long do you think it will take to find a house?”

“I don’t know,” he said with the beginnings of impatience. “I’ve never leased a house before.”

“But didn’t your father say he was sending notice ahead? So he’ll be expecting you.”

“It’s possible.”

“Perhaps by the time you meet with him it will all be settled.”

Nicholas scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m dead on my feet, Georgie. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

She smiled tightly. It felt like all her smiles were tight this evening. “Of course.”

He ate, and she watched, and then, because the silence was making her itchy, she asked, “Did you learn anything new this week?”

He looked at her. “Didn’t you already ask me that?”

“You didn’t answer.”

“You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to keep all traces of sarcasm from her voice. “I was preoccupied by the fact that you haven’t been to see the land agent.”

“I’m sorry I was too busy to see to it,” he snapped. “I spent the entire time dealing with everything I missed traveling down to Kent for you.”

There it was. The expectation of gratitude. She’d almost forgotten that she’d been waiting for it.

“Thank you for marrying me,” she said, shoving her chair back so she could stand. “I am sorry it has made your life so difficult.”

“For God’s sake, Georgie. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know it’s not what you thought you meant.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he warned, rising to his feet.

“I knew this would happen.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw his brain.

“I’m going to bed,” she said. She walked to the door, hoping he’d try to stop her, hoping he’d say something, say anything.

“Georgie, wait.”

She turned just as he laid his hand on her arm.

“I don’t want to go to bed angry,” he said.

Something inside of her softened. “Nor do I.”

“I don’t even know why we’re angry.”

She shook her head. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” he said, and his voice was firm even as his weariness seemed to cloak them both. “No, it’s not.”

“I missed you,” she said. “And I was bored. And all I wanted was to hear that I would be able to move to Edinburgh so I could be with you.”

He pulled her into his arms. “That’s all I want too.”

A part of her wanted to ask why, then, hadn’t he gone to see the land agent, but she knew that would be petty. He was exhausted, and he had every right to be.

“I don’t want you to feel grateful that I married you,” he said.

“But I do,” she admitted.

“Fine, then. Feel grateful.”

She drew back. “What?”

“If you want to feel grateful, feel grateful.”

She blinked. This was not what she’d expected him to say.

Then he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “But I get to feel grateful too.”

That was when she knew. She loved him. How could she not?

“Can we go to bed now?” he asked. “I’m so tired. I don’t even know how I’m still standing.”

She nodded, not quite capable of words. This feeling—this love—it was still too new. She needed to give it time, to see how it felt.

“Can we talk about all this in the morning?” he asked. “The house? The land agent, moving to the city? Can we talk about it all later?”

But they didn’t. Talk about it, that was. They were distracted—delightfully so, Georgie had to allow—but that meant that when Nicholas returned to Edinburgh Sunday night, nothing of import had been discussed or settled. And Georgie found herself looking ahead to another week of very little with which to occupy herself.

“There aren’t even books in this house,” she despaired to Marian two days after Nicholas had departed.

“It’s a hunting lodge,” Marian said. She looked up from the socks she was darning. “Do men read when they hunt? I thought they just went around and shot things.”

“We need books,” Georgie said. “We need books, and we need paper and ink, and honestly, I’d settle for embroidery right now.”

“There’s no thread,” Marian admitted. “None that’s suitable for more than mending. We didn’t bring any up from Kent.”

“Why not?” Georgie asked testily.

“You don’t like to embroider,” Marian reminded her.

“I was starting to like it,” Georgie grumbled. She’d liked when she’d made all those even identical stitches. That had actually been, well, maybe not fun, but certainly rewarding.

“I suppose we could pick flowers,” Marian suggested. “Orrrrrr … We could look for embroidery thread. Mrs. Hibbert found a bolt of muslin in the storeroom the other day. Very fine quality, and never used. Who knows what else is hiding there.”

“I don’t want to embroider,” Georgie said.

“But you just said—”

“That’s it,” Georgie announced, because the last thing she needed to hear was an accounting of all her contradictions. “We’re going shopping. First thing tomorrow.”

“In the village?” Marian gave her a dubious look. They’d been to the village. It was charming. And without shops.

“No. We’ll go to Edinburgh.”

“Us?”

“Why not? We have a carriage. We have a driver.”

“Well …” Marian frowned. “I don’t know. I suppose I thought we were meant to remain here.”

“Meant by whom?” Georgie retorted. “Aren’t I the lady of the house? To whom must I answer?”

“Mr. Rokesby?” Marian said.

“He’s not here.”

Georgie’s volume was such that Marian’s face took on an expression of faint alarm.

“He’s not here,” Georgie repeated, this time with a bit more modulation. “I’m in charge, and I say we are going to Edinburgh.”

“But we’ve never been to Edinburgh. Should we not go for the first time with someone who knows his way?”

“The only person we know who knows his way is Mr. Rokesby, and he’s already there. Cheer up, Marian. This will be exciting.”

But Marian did not look excited, and Georgie supposed this was understandable. Marian liked routine. It was part of the reason she and Georgie were so well suited. Until recently, Georgie’s life had been nothing but routine.

“Tomorrow, you say?” Marian said with a sigh.

“Tomorrow,” Georgie said firmly. She was feeling better already.

THEY LEFT EARLY the following day, and were at the outskirts of the city by ten in the morning.