Page 65 of Ironvine

“Charles, this entire day has been so lovely. The morning at Justine’s, the service, the breakfast. It was truly perfect. I loved it. I hope you—”

“It was perfect.”

“Your gifts were magnificent.”

“You like them?”

“Very much. It was the most extraordinary surprise. I shall always treasure them.”

His lips blazed with a wide smile. “The jewels are indeed magnificent on you as I knew they would be.”

The carriage descended into a valley, the road winding through an endless field of green. She had not been to Charles’s home for many years. Truly, she barely remembered it. “Charles, you must tell me the moment we cross into your property.”

“You want to know what you own, madame?”

“My lord, you know very well that as a woman, I own nothing. What I want is to know everything about your home.”

He put a hand over hers. “Our home. It’s our home now.”

His warm, firm touch and carefree affirmation sent a ripple through her. Yes, she had a home. Her very own home now. There were no more worries of where to go, where she was welcome, would she have to leave. No more. She belonged somewhere.

“We are crossing over onto the estate now.” An enormous valley of green sloping hills burst forth around them. The horses found a swift rhythm as they entered an avenue of tall beech trees. They knew they were home and were eager to reach their beloved destination. At last, in the distance, the old stone wall of the property appeared.

Charles rubbed a hand down his thigh as they passed through a tall medieval gate. “This gate used to distress me as a child. It always seemed forbidding and sinister.”

“I can understand why.”

He only pressed his lips together and kept his attention on the road. Was he looking at his home with new eyes? Charles was the great estate’s lord, its foundation, its pillar. Hugh was gone and all was his.

And there, on a hill in the distance, rose the great house. Imposing, striking, towering. Stone magnificence in the Elizabethan style. Stone weathered yet taken care of, clean. A long stretch of formal gardens stood on either side with a fountain at its centre.

The horses made their way around the immense circular front drive. Their hooves clopped heavier, louder. Georgina’s back straightened as the carriage finally came to a stop. On the stairs stood all the staff to greet them.

The door of the coach swung open. “Sir,” his manservant greeted him with a bow. “Welcome home.”

“Holt. Good to see you.” Charles grinned at the man as he got out of the carriage. Turning, he held out his hand to Georgina, and she placed her hand in his.

He grinned at her, that knowing teasing grin of his she knew so well. “Lady Georgina, Countess of Ryvves, I welcome you home to Ironvine.”

* * *

Charles introducedGeorgina to the servants, and they entered through the imposing doorway into a large marble hall with a vaulted ceiling, which offered a procession of rooms and a grand staircase leading to the upper story.

Although the exterior of the house was in an old style, the interior had obviously been renovated in the Baroque. Gilded accents were everywhere, rich colours and lavish fabrics emboldened tapestries and curtains and upholstery. The furniture was elegant and of the highest quality.

“Would you like a tour now, Georgie, or some refreshment?”

“I’m quite eager to see the house.”

“Holt, I’m going to show Lady Georgina her new home now. We’ll take tea in the Blue Silk drawing room in an hour’s time.”

“Very good, sir.”

Charles gestured for Georgina to follow him. “Over the years, with each Earl’s increase in income and arrogance, the house was built upon, redecorated. My grandfather was the one who modernised and refreshed the structure. The one thing he was most proud of was the orangerie.”

“Ah yes, the glass-walled conservatory. That I remember.”

“Do you?”

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