‘No servants’ staircase in her room.’
‘She might have lost the appetite for intrigue and contented herself with her music and her other pursuits. From what I see, men are slower to give up lovers than women, with many a frisky old goat still indulging in amours in his eighties.’
‘We’ll see what Alex finds out. How was your evening?’
Dora stroked his chest. ‘I played cards with Ruby.’
‘She’s well?’
‘Very comfortably settled in her nest.’
‘What did she say about us?’
‘She apologised for the newspaper article. We agreed not to harm each other’s prospects if we can avoid it.’ Dora tapped him. ‘And before you say anything, I did not agree to anything, nor did she.’
‘Then you will marry me?’
‘Still thinking about it.’
If he had to be like the woodpecker, chipping away until he had made a hole in her defences, then he would do so. ‘I wouldn’t have to creep past your landlady with my boots in my hand if we were wed.’
‘Is that so much of a hardship? Does it not add spice to our love affair?’
He chuckled softly. ‘You, my dear, are a very Hindoustanee dish of delights.’ He moved to kiss her.
She let her lips cling to his before pulling back. ‘You know the visitor is calling?’
‘I do. I’m a doctor. And when I see a lady suffering from bellyache and feeling tetchy, I am able to diagnose the cause. What a marvel. Have you forgotten I am a bundle of bruises, so hardly up to much myself? Would you welcome my company in bed? I know I’d like to have you in my arms.’
She nodded. ‘That I can manage.’
They settled down on the pillow. ‘Have you taken anything for your pain?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Laudanum?—’
‘Is a slippery slope. I am aware.’
He made to get up again, thinking his bedside manner could do with some work. ‘I could make you willow bark tea.’
She pulled him back. ‘And risk Mrs Jones detecting your presence under her roof? No, thank you. Being with you will take away the pain as well, if not better.’
They spooned together on the narrow bed. He spread his hand over her lower belly to help ease the cramp. ‘Better?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just think, every night like this if we marry.’ Tap-tap. Tap-tap. The woodpecker was not giving up.
‘I’ll add that to the considerations,’ she muttered before they fell asleep together.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miss Jane Austen arrived at the office the next morning with renewed enthusiasm for the search, looking youthfully pink-cheeked and excited in her blue gown, matching pelisse and chip straw riding hat. It was hard to think of her as a staid spinster in her middle age.
‘I take it the meeting with your publisher went well?’ Dora asked with a smile as she showed Jane in to where Jacob was hastily clearing away the breakfast things. He rattled away with a tray to the scullery.
‘He is taking his time, but I am confident we can agree terms. I do so love having money of my own.’ Jane sat down on the visitor’s chair. ‘Dora, I have to confess, I’m considering a poplin gown. I saw some material at Layton and Shear’s that would tempt even the most parsimonious person.’
