Now they were on their way to dissolve their marriage. But the fault wasn’t all his. It was hers, too, for failing to ask so many questions.
Georgiana didn’t like knowing that. And she wasn’t sure what to do, now that she did know—or whether she should do anything at all. Perhaps it would still be best to continue on to the magistrate’s, and be done with the wreck they’d both made of their marriage.
In the shed, Thom pushed away from the coach. The thin eddies of steam had begun to billow. He walked toward her through them, like a large ship emerging from fog. “I’d have come for you when the engine was ready.”
“I thought I might enjoy a few extra moments of sun.” And the way it glinted in his dark hair.
Nodding, he said, “Best enjoy it while you can. We won’t have much of it today.”
“That is what you said on every walk we took,” she reminded him with a curve of her lips. “You were always wrong.”
And they’d walked often. On the road to town, along miles of beach—close to his side, her arm occasionally brushing against his, and every part of her feeling heavy and light all at once, as if her body hadn’t known how to settle when Thom was near.
“Wait and see,” he said with a slight smile. “Maybe I’ll prove you wrong this time.”
Maybe he would, at that. “If you’re right, at least we have the coach.”
He glanced back at the canvas-topped vehicle. “Did you buy it?”
“Yes.”
“So you don’t always trust the sun.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not at all between October and March. And I go into town more often now. There is little time for leisurely walks.”
Very little time at all. Her friends had urged her to move into Skagen so she wouldn’t have to make that journey every day. It would have been more practical. Her offices were there, and the expense of the wiregram lines she’d installed to connect her business to her home—and the cost of repairing them after every storm—could hardly be justified. No one waited for her at the house. But Georgiana couldn’t bring herself to leave it.
At first she’d worried that if Thom returned, he wouldn’t know where she’d gone. But after hope for his return had faded, she’d stayed, anyway. She loved the house. She loved the beach and the constant roar of the ocean. She loved being able to leave the town behind.
She also loved driving into town, because every day, she had a purpose there. In the steamcoach, her gaze was fixed on the road ahead of her instead of on the horizon.
And not every day was a sunny one. She appreciated the roof over her head.
She frowned a little. Thom wouldn’t have one.
“Where do you intend to stay tonight, Thom?”
He shook his head. “I’ll figure something.”
“You don’t need to. Stay at the house until we have everything settled. I’ve room enough—and we’ll avoid the gossip in that way. I’ll open the upper bedrooms.”
“They’re not ready now?”
Not after Georgiana had become her mother, standing at the window and waiting. “No.”
His gaze searched her face. “I don’t want to give you trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll leave a note for Marta.”
He exhaled on a sharp breath, looked out over the sea. Debating. After a quiet moment, he said, “I’d best not stay. You’ll be looking for a new husband soon. I’ll be in the way.”
“A new husband?” Surprise pushed a short laugh from her. “Why would I do that?”
“You have to have someone.”
She frowned at him. “You sound like my father. I did well enough on my own for four years.”
“You wanted children.”