No Greater Love by Katherine Kingsley

ajar from the cupboard, taking care not to knock the door off the one remaining hinge. “We are not accustomed to struggling, sir.”
    “It will do us good. We are flexible, are we not? In any case, I always did plan to be directly involved in the rebuilding of the house. It will just take longer than I had anticipated. I’ve written to London to cancel the workmen.”
    Binkley looked eloquently around the dilapidated kitchen. “Very good, sir. And will we always be struggling?”
    “Good heavens, no. I will make a fortune on the ’Change, or perhaps have an extraordinarily prosperous shipment come in. I’m not sure. But whatever I decide on, our creature comforts will have to wait until the courtship is complete.”
    “Then I hope that your usual skill is in place, sir.”
    “It is going to take more than ordinary skill, Binkley. Georgia is not quite an … ordinary woman. Oh, and by the by, if you are asked about the state of my health, I am much improved.”
    Binkley inclined his head. “Have you developed a weak constitution along with poverty, sir?’’
    Nicholas laughed. “No. But I made a damn fool of myself last night with the blasted nightmare, and Georgia came running. Fortunately, she decided I was fevered. Which I was by the time she’d finished administering to me. This courting business is going to be hell, Binkley.”
    “Most probably,” Binkley said equitably. “You will have to rely on fortitude.”
    “Unfortunately, my fortitude is already slightly frayed around the edges. Oh, and, Binkley, there is something else, and I’ll be damned if I know how to deal with it. I’ve never been married to a farmer’s wife before.”
    “And what might that be, sir?”
    “Georgia is under the impression that she is not highborn enough for me. Therefore, she has taken it into her head to make up for her lack of birth by single-handedly rebuilding my house. I do not think it would be wise to attempt to dissuade her from any labors she decides to undertake. Do you think you can adjust?”
    “If the courtship requires a lowering of standards, I believe I can manage, sir.” Binkley sniffed. “I can manage anything.”
    “Yes, of course you can,” Nicholas said soothingly. “And you needn’t consider it a lowering of standards, merely a relaxing of protocol.”
    “A relaxing of protocol is not a problem, sir. However, I do believe it would be in Mrs. Daventry’s best interests to be gently instructed to the more intricate ways of the gentry. After all, once we are no longer struggling…”
    “As you wish, Binkley,” Nicholas said, trying not to laugh. “You may instruct my wife, as long as you do it subtly. I do not wish her to feel in any way inadequate.”
    “I am always subtle, sir.”
    “Indeed you are, Binkley. Indeed you are. Now, onward and upward. I believe the man Martin has just arrived. Shall we go out to meet him? It seems that with the new plan, we might be relying on him a great deal more than we had originally anticipated. I doubt very much you’re going to see any of the inhabitants of Polegate lining up for employment.”
    Nicholas gulped down his tea, and shoving the bread between his teeth, shrugged himself into his coat and went out through the kitchen door to deal with his new employee. Impoverishment was going to be interesting, he decided.
    Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Georgia woke to the sound of Lily coming into her room with a tray, a luxury Nicholas had insisted on the night before.
    “You’ve been working day and night,” he’d said, “and I think one morning in bed will not hurt. Consider it a Christmas present to yourself.”
    She sat up and stretched as Lily put the tray down and opened the makeshift draperies, and then she grinned as she heard the hammer start to pound. “Is Nicholas up on the roof again, Lily?”
    “Yes, missus. But he waited till I came to wake you.”
    “Did he? He is considerate. I do wish he’d take a break, though.