Page 21 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
His heart twisted, remembering therewasanother way, mentioned repeatedly last night. But no. That “offer” was one he was loath to accept. He wasn’t that desperate. Yet.
“Well, I can’t wait to see all the things. I just love this part of the world.” George rubbed her hands together. “Now, I’m hungry. Can we go eat?”
“You’re always hungry.”
“That’s because I exist on a diet of two-minute noodles and no sleep.”
He could relate.
“It’s funny how as soon as I hit the countryside my appetite picks up again. Now, are we going to the Duck Inn?”
“I wouldn’t dare take you anywhere else.”
George laughed, and again he was reminded of another woman who had laughed at him recently. Someone whose eyes sparkled with mirth and tease, like she was never serious. Although she had been quite serious about hacking down that hedge …
“What are you smiling about?” George nudged him with her shoulder. “Are you looking forward to a good steak too?”
“Absolutely. Let’s go.”
The Duck Inn might normally be his dining establishment of choice, but today there seemed a definite chill in the air. He should’ve realized that when Veronica had mentioned several villagers were on board, that she’d meant Marge Simmons, the publican. Marge had welcomed them as per usual, exclaiming she was pleased to see Georgina once again, but the look she threw him held a distinct tinge of disappointment. Well, tough.
But he hadn’t realized just how tough it would be until he saw that Veronica was eating at another table with Tobias Gifford, the vicar. And her granddaughter. All three of them glanced at him, nodded, smiled. Well, the granddaughter didn’t smile so much as lift her lips and cast his sister a curious look that made him wonder what she thought. No doubt Veronica was filling her in, as the three resumed their conversation.
“Who’s that with Veronica?” George asked.
“Her granddaughter.”
George lifted a brow. “Does she have a name?”
“Liv.” He sipped his drink.
“She looks a bit like—”
“I know.”
George peered at him. Then concentrated on her food.
It took a few moments more, then she said, “Would you introduce me?”
His heart protested. “Why? You’re not going to be friends.”
Both eyebrows lifted. “Is that a hope or a threat?”
“She’s leaving, and you’re hardly here, and—” He sounded ridiculous. He knew that, and George seemed to realize that too, as she folded her arms and studied him.
“Liam, what’s really going on?”
He blew out a breath. He didn’t like this person he’d become. And taking his frustrations out on his sister and random dryad women was not what he wanted to do.
“Is money still tight?”
“Money? What’s that?”
She studied him. Then said quietly, “I can leave my studies if that would help.”
Not having to pay thousands on university feeswouldhelp. But the same will and testament that had seen him receive the title to the Hall had set aside funds for Georgina’s education that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—touch, not even in moments like these.
“You’re not leaving your studies. I’ll manage.” Somehow. God willing.God, what is Your will?
