“Frankly, my darling, I hope you won’t.”
“It won’t be easy,” she warned, shifting her hips closer to his. “I love you too much to bear you with any lady but me.”
“That was not even a consideration.”
She kissed along his jaw. “I can be crotchety and demanding.”
“As though I was unaware.”
She laughed then cupped his face. “And I shall demand strawberries even when they are out of season.”
“Then we shall travel to warmer climes.” His hand slid down her side, and his thumb dug into the flesh of her stomach, holding her against him so she could feel how aroused he was. Her head spun at the feeling. How long she had been denied—how little she would have to be denied now. “Whatever you need, whatever you want, whatever will make you happy, I will do it.”
“Can I deserve you?”
His lips brushed her neck. “I think the real question is whether I can contrive to deserve you.”
“Oh, darling.” She tipped her head back, giving him access, giving him everything. “You already do.”
Epilogue
March 1816
Jacqueline propped her hands on her chin, ignoring the rattling that travelled from the side of the carriage, up the elbow she leant against it, and into the bones of her head. This was the first time she had come to London, and she didn’t want to miss a second of it. The noise, the smells, the buildings that all rose so tall about her.
Mrs Smith hadn’t wanted her travelling alone, and had thought about refusing to send her at all, but Lord and Lady Worthington had sent a manservant and carriage all the way out to Suffolk, so it was not for them to refuse.
Jacqueline was glad. She’d dreamt of coming to the capital at some point in her life, and although it was a shame dearest Olivia, her sister, could not come with her, she could still hardly contain her excitement. She’d always felt as though the life shehad been born into was too small, and now she was finally getting a chance to experience something different. Admittedly, flirting with the curate had been a fun way of passing the time, and she did adore her family, but there were more important things than haggling for the price of fish on market days, or darning socks by the light of an indifferent candle.
London was the place adventures happened. Her veins were fairly fizzing with it.
As they passed through the outskirts of London, they came across even larger houses. There were gated parks and shops selling all things. It was fascinating. And the people! Jacqueline had never seen so many people in one place in her life. Tradesmen with their wares; ladies lifting their skirts over puddles; skinny children dressed in rags, slipping through the crowds with their quick hands.
Then, as they reached the heart of London, it became ladies with heavily embroidered shawls and liveried footmen with packages, and so many carriages it was a struggle for Jacqueline’s groom to navigate the busy streets.
Finally, they came to a street—she did not know which, they all looked the same to her—lined by tall, pale houses with too many windows and black railings leading up to the front door.
So this was where she was to be staying.
She’d known that Lord and Lady Worthington were wealthy, but she hadn’t known the extent of it. The building went on for what felt like miles on either side. And there was nothing green to be seen: no garden with buzzing bees and gradually unfurling flowers. There was nothing here but exquisite stonework and a certain sense of grandiose that made her feel as though she had left the country a long way behind.
Briefly, nerves overcame her excitement, but then a footman was emerging from the front door and letting down the steps of her carriage, and when she glanced up, it was to see LadyWorthington herself in the doorway. Instead of the austere lady she had been envisaging—Mrs Smith had said not to expect anything from her; the nobility were notoriously fickle—she was beaming, dressed in a becoming green dress that hugged her curves, and her blonde hair set stylishly below a hat with a long feather.
“Darling,” she said, coming down the steps to greet Jacqueline. “I’m so glad you made it safe and unharmed.” She peered into the carriage’s interior. “Have you no maid?”
“Mrs Smith said she could not spare Nancy,” Jacqueline said, unsure whether this was a faux pas immediately on meeting her host. But although Lady Worthington’s face briefly seemed to tighten, her expression soon dissolved into another smile.
“Never mind that—you can use my maid until we find you one. Now come inside, darling. You must meet George.”
“George?”
“Lord Worthington.” Lady Worthington hesitated as she led Jacqueline into the elegant hallway. “You mustn’t stand on ceremony with us, you know. I’m Caroline to all my friends, and I’m determined we’ll be friends. Ah,” she said as a tall man approached. He was handsome in a careless way that Jacqueline knew from novels denoted someone was high fashion, and he gave Lady Worthington such a look of speaking devotion that it was plain their marriage had been a love match.
Jacqueline felt a slight pang deep in her chest. Not jealousy, precisely, but because she wanted to have that one day. Olivia was in love with the butcher’s assistant, but Mrs Smith was insisting on taking her to London to find a better match. Olivia wanted nothing else than to stay home and marry, but the butcher’s boy wasn’t good enough for her. At least, according to Mrs Smith.
“This is George,” Lady Worthington said, laying a hand on the man’s arm. He gave her a brief smile, then turned his attention to Jacqueline.
“Pleasure to have you staying with,” he said, bowing. “Caro tells me you’re being presented?”
