‘Then Smith and I can go and ask the owner of the property if we can see it with a view to leasing it as my summer residence. How do you fancy being my solicitor, Smith?’
Alex grinned. ‘I imagine I can string together enough legal Latin to be convincing.Caveat venditor.’
‘Glad to see the army hasn’t driven out all your schooling.’ Jacob locked the casebook away and kissed Dora’s cheek in farewell. ‘You’ll stay here? Yarton’s footmen are keeping a watch so you should be safe.’
‘I’ll stay for a bit, but then I thought I’d go and visit Ruby. We need to clear the air between us.’ He was about to object but she put her finger to his lips. ‘And yes, I’ll take a footman to accompany me.’
That would have to do. He couldn’t ask her to make herself a prisoner.
‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ he said, more for himself than for her.
‘And good luck to anyone who dares attack me at Ruby’s. She’ll make mincemeat of them.’
Jacob gave Alex a look.
‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ Alex said.
Once he was gone, Jacob pulled Dora to him. ‘Remember, when Ruby presses her case, I want to marry you.’
‘I know.’ She pressed her forehead against his cheek and kissed his throat.
He stroked her back, enjoying the long line of her spine. ‘We must live our lives for ourselves, not for others. We do them no favours by letting them ride roughshod over us.’
‘That would be a bad habit to encourage,’ she agreed.
‘So?’
‘Jacob, I’m looking for a path forwards that will be acceptable to my friend as well as to us– and perhaps even to your family.’
‘I’m not compromising on the fact that we should marry. What if we have children? I refuse to let them suffer the stigma of bastardy.’
She tapped his chest in understanding. ‘I know. Believe me, I know how ugly it is to be someone’s bastard. But we have time. I’m not pregnant, and Ruby is. Let me see what talking to her will achieve.’
He kissed her and let her go. Despite his smiles, he left feeling a cloud of doom hovering, waiting to envelop them.
Chapter Twenty
Wimpole Street, Marylebone
The maid showed Dora into a handsome drawing room on the first floor. Rococo furniture curved and bowed fussily in armchairs, sofas and side tables, upholstery a mannish navy blue. Hunting scenes galloped across the walls, red-coated riders after a startled streak of a fox. Definitely not Ruby’s taste, decided Dora.
‘Madame will be down immediately,’ said the maid, bobbing a curtsey.
Dora chose a seat on the end of the sofa, glad to sit down. She had cramps, her period uncomfortably heavy. The cloth pad secured by a belt around her waist was snug and fresh, but she would have to use Ruby’s closet before returning home or risk an embarrassing accident.
Women’s bodies were annoyingly inconvenient. Men didn’t understand the half of it.
With that thought, she sprang up, worried she might be inadvertently leaving a spot on the sofa cushion. She checked the back of her skirt.
Ruby wafted in, dressed in a flowing white gown secured under her bust but leaving her body free of stays.
‘Whatever is the matter with you, Dora? I’ve not put pins in my cushions.’ She came over to kiss her on both cheeks.
‘It’s the visitor,’ said Dora, returning the affectionate greeting.
‘Poor you; you always do suffer in the first few days. At least I don’t have to worry about that for a few months.’ Ruby patted her stomach.
‘I was worried I might ruin your furniture.’
