Page 8 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

Eliza said, “I admit I sometimes misjudge an incoming wave and my half boots get wet, but how my stepmother would rail if I came home like that.”

Georgiana was about to say her mamma was more understanding, but didn’t want to remind Eliza that her own mother had died. And in truth, Mamma often complained over the state of Georgie’s clothes and boots.

Instead she changed the subject. “Are those your shells in the window?”

“They are—or rather, they were. I can’t usually bear to part with any, but Christmas is coming, and I wanted the means to buy gifts for Papa and ... Mamma.”

Georgie noticed the young woman often hesitated before referring to her stepmother by that maternal title, even though her widowed father had remarried many years ago now. Georgiana supposed she might find it difficult to call another woman Mamma as well.

She and Eliza were not close but shared a friendly acquaintance, frequently seeing each other, since both of them spent a lot of time out-of-doors.

While Georgie loved to take long rambles and play sports, however, Eliza’s outings were centered on her tireless pursuit of finding interesting seashells on area beaches.

Whenever the two happened to meet, Georgie stopped to admire Eliza’s latest discoveries. Since her basket was currently empty, Georgie looked again to the offerings in the shop window.

Displayed there were shells of various sizes and colors: chalky white, shiny pearl, golden yellow, pale pink. Some were solid, while others were striped. By now, Georgie recognized many of the shapes: cockle shells, scallops, augers, and limpets.

“I think I like the striped snail shells best.”

Eliza nodded sagely. “Ah yes. Cassis strigata .”

Georgie pointed to a few brightly colored whorled shells. “What are those?”

“Flat periwinkles, or Littorina obtusata .”

“Well, they’re all very interesting. Pretty too.”

“Thank you. Mr. Kingwill thinks he will have no trouble selling them and paid me a good price. So now to decide what gifts to buy. What are you giving your mother?”

Georgie blinked and shifted uneasily. “I don’t know. We don’t go in for big gifts. Usually just something handmade.”

“Oh.” Eliza appeared disappointed by her answer.

The truth was, Georgiana had not yet given any thought to gifts.

Footsteps and a jovial, if tuneless, whistle caught her ear. She looked over and saw Colin Hutton striding up the street, impressively dressed as always, small parcel in one hand.

“Ah, Miss Georgiana.” He doffed his beaver hat. “And pray, who is your lovely friend?”

Georgie inwardly sighed. “Miss Eliza Marriott, allow me introduce Mr. Colin Hutton.”

“Enchanted.” He bowed, and Eliza curtsied.

“I believe I have seen you before,” Eliza said. “At church and such.”

“Quite possibly. My brother, Major Hutton, lives at Westmount, and I often visit him and his wife. And her lovely sisters, of course.” He nodded to Georgiana.

Eliza looked at her. “Ah, so he is your brother-in-law.”

“I ... well. He is Viola’s brother-in-law to be certain but not mine ... exactly.”

Eliza turned back to Colin. “I have met Major Hutton. He served with my uncle, Major Charles Marriott, in India. You appear to be much younger than your brother. Though perhaps it is his scars, if that is not rude to say.”

“Not at all. Yes, I am the youngest. We had another brother between us, but—” Colin abruptly broke off and turned his head, as if his attention was seized by something in the window.

“And what has caught your fancy here, ladies? The seashells?”

“Miss Marriott found those,” Georgie explained. “She is quite the avid collector.”

“Ah!” He looked up, apparently impressed. “A conchologist.”

“That’s right,” Eliza said. “I have many more at home. I’ve invited Georgiana more than once to come to Temple Cottage and see my entire collection, but she has not yet done so. You would be welcome to join her.”

“I should enjoy that.”

For a lingering moment the two smiled at each other.

Georgie interjected, “And you, Colin. What have you been shopping for?” She gestured to the parcel in his hand.

He grinned. “You tell me.”

“How should I know?”

“What do you smell?” He leaned closer.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, is rather strong.”

“It’s a new cologne—Albany. Named after one of London’s most exclusive addresses for fashionable bachelors. A blend of lavender and citrus.”

Georgie leaned away. “Ah. Thought I smelled a fruit seller.”

“Well, I think it smells quite nice,” Eliza said.

Of course she did.

“Is it a gift for Jack?” Georgiana asked.

“For me. Got Jack one called Spanish Leather. Sounded more his style. And traditional Bay Rum for our father.”

Guilt pinched. Even self-absorbed Colin Hutton had bought presents for his family. What did that say about her?

Colin turned back to Eliza. “And you live here in Sidmouth, Miss Marriott?”

“I do. For many years now, though I lived in India as a child. My father is a lawyer—King’s Counsel—but my uncles are still there.”

“How interesting.”

“Thank you. I think so. Well, if you will excuse me, I had better get on with my shopping. Good day, Mr. Hutton. Georgiana.” She curtsied and started down the street.

Watching her depart, Colin murmured, “I say. What a beauty.”

As the elegant woman of two or three and twenty walked away, Georgie stood there feeling inelegant, immature, and rather awkward in her muddy hems and unkempt hair.

Why did she care? She had never cared before.