She squinted at it. “Is it a rose?”
“Hard to say,” Knight replied. “Pretty though.”
Fancy’s mind was whirling. The christening gown was undoubtedly costly. Did that mean she’d come from a background of wealth, perhaps even…nobility?
She turned to her father. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”
“Because I was trying to protect you.” His expression bleak, Da took a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to her. “This be tucked in the basket next to you. Me and your ma ’ad a shopkeeper read it to us.”
Fancy took the note with trembling hands. It was yellowing at the edges, the spidery handwriting difficult to read. Beneath Knight’s gaze, she felt her cheeks warm. Her reading was improving, thanks to Bea’s lessons, but under pressure she still had to sound out the words.
“May God…watch over…this babe,”she managed to read aloud.“For ’er own safety, she must never re…return to Lon…London.”
The words sunk in.
“Why must I be kept from London?” she asked, bewildered. “Who am I?”
“I don’t know, petal,” Da said heavily. “But me and your ma, we weren’t going to risk you coming to ’arm. That’s why we stayed away from London all these years. And that’s why I didn’t want you marrying Knighton: I knew ’e would take you there and deliver you into the arms o’ danger.”
“Fancy will come to no harm,” Knight said. “You have my word.”
Although his statement was calm, it had the lethality of a honed blade.
“I can’t stop you from going to London. But now that you be knowing the truth,” Da said heavily, “you’ll be taking extra caution with me girl, you ’ear?”
“I would take care of my wife regardless,” Knight said evenly.
My wife.Fancy didn’t miss his emphasis on the words, and his possessiveness thrilled her. Seeing the worry carved on her father’s brow, however, she reached out and took Da’s hand. She felt his calluses, the working man’s strength that had taken care of her all her life, and love for him welled.
“Don’t worry, Da.” She gave him a smile and a reassuring squeeze. “All will be fine.”
He returned her squeeze. “I ’ope you’re right, petal. By the grace o’ God, I ’ope you are.”
17
The journeyto London took five days. Knowing how badly Fancy wanted to see her friend, Severin instructed his groom to make the trip as quickly as possible without compromising comfort. They drove most of the day, stopping only to refresh the horses and to stay the night at coaching inns along the way. While it wasn’t the wedding trip Severin had wanted to give his new bride, the time nonetheless seemed to fly by.
He realized that it was the first time he’d spent this much time with a female before. With Imogen, his visits had always been limited and furtive. With his mistresses, he hadn’t seen the point in lingering after the tupping.
Fancy was different.
Bedding her was sublime. Her blend of innocence and eagerness kept him in a perpetual state of arousal. Although she was inexperienced, she showed no shame about the pleasure she found at her husband’s touch. She wasn’t coy, didn’t play games, and it made Severin want to fuck her constantly. It was a good thing she had no trouble napping in the carriage for he kept her up at night, plowing her until she cried out her pleasure, her snug sheath milking him of his own.
But his attraction to her was about more than just coupling.
She was a good companion, for starters. She didn’t complain, need to make constant stops, or ask how much farther until the destination. Instead, she made the time pass quickly with her entertaining anecdotes about the travelling life. Her stories about Bertrand alone could fill a book.
She was also full of curiosity about Severin’s everyday life. Luckily, his replies did not seem to bore her. Unlike others whose eyelids would begin to droop when he expounded upon the latest version of the Jacquard mechanism and other innovations of his trade, Fancy was inquisitive, asking thoughtful questions.
While he’d always admired her character, he was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t fully appreciated her intellect. Her sweetness and honesty were accompanied by a clever and resourceful mind. Day by day, he was discovering that his wife was possessed of an astounding repertoire of skills.
Before they left Scotland, Milton Sheridan had taken Severin aside. Surprisingly, the tinker had decided not to accompany them to London.
“Fancy made ’er choice, and she be in your ’ands now,” Sheridan had said gruffly. “But while she ain’t mine to look after anymore, I’ll be wanting your word you’ll take good care o’ me girl.”
Having given his word, Severin did not like to repeat himself. But he’d made an exception for his wife’s father. Now that he understood that Sheridan’s reservations about their marriage stemmed from the mystery of Fancy’s past, he could afford to be generous.
Moreover, he thought the tinker’s decision not to go to London was for the best. Upon their arrival in Town, Fancy would face the daunting prospect of gaining theton’s acceptance, for herself and his siblings. The presence of her tinkering family would exponentially increase the difficulty of that task.
