“I want you more,” she said as her hands settled around his neck once more.
Considering the entirety of all that had happened of late, Violet’s heart lightened at the thought that she might be free of the history that clung to every corner of Oakham. “Besides, I wish to leave. This doesn’t feel like my home anymore, and with everything that has happened of late, I long to try someplace new where I am known not for my family’s sake but my own.”
Arthur’s brows rose. “Then we will go together?”
Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Violet leaned close, holding fast to him as she whispered, “We will start a new life in a cottage in a quiet village, that desperately needs your skills—”
“And yours,” he whispered.
“And mine.” Violet’s grin broadened. “With a large garden.”
“And beehives.”
Violet laughed and did the only thing one could do when in the grip of such happiness. Straightening, she held his gaze whilst leaning close to him, reveling in the eager light that entered his eyes as she pressed her lips to his.
Epilogue
Thornsby, Yorkshire
8 Months Later
Agrown man of three and thirty did not gawk at something so pedestrian as the countryside. And certainly, he did not press his nose against the carriage window to better see said view. With no one but his wife to see, Arthur supposed it didn’t matter in the slightest, but had the carriage been stuffed beyond capacity, he couldn’t have resisted the urge when she was doing precisely the same.
Violet’s eyes were bright as they followed the rolling dales. “I love the moors. It reminds me of home.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Arthur smiled. “We can finally breathe again.”
“London was not as bad as all that,” said Violet as she settled into the crook of his arm. “I must have an entire trunk full of books Mr. Motley suggested.”
“To say nothing of your tools,” he added with a wry smile. The old apothecary who lived around the corner from his family had taken quite a liking to her, and Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if the fellow sent her a steady stream of periodicals andtomes on herbology and medicines along with the latest gadgets to be found in London hospitals and apothecaries.
Violet hummed with pleasure before reaching into her valise to retrieve her book. Pulling out the missive that served as her marker, she shook her head. “I still find it difficult to accept Lilibet’s letter. Despite knowing that things would need to change, I hadn’t anticipated Isaac leaving medicine altogether.”
“It is a bit surprising, I suppose, but I would hazard a guess he will be a better banker than a physician. Assuming his father-in-law is patient and knows how to keep him on task.”
Stuffing the letter further back into the book, she sighed and settled once more. “But Isaac detests sums and figures, and Lilibet has yet to specify what he is to be doing in this new position her father offered him.”
“With his social skills, Isaac would be a dab hand with investors. There is so much speculation flying about nowadays, and most schemes have a handsome face and a ready smile at the forefront of the venture to lure in more funds,” said Arthur, bringing his arm around her shoulders. “And more than anything, some people simply do not excel at being their own master. Isaac’s flaw was laziness, not ability or intelligence. From what you’ve said, he thrived under your father, and I would hazard a guess that he might do so under his father-in-law’s guidance.”
“I—” But Violet snapped her mouth shut as her complexion grew ashen.
Arthur moved his hand to the door latch, ready to open it the moment it was needed, but she drew in a deep breath and seemed to settle again. Tugging off his glove, he felt her forehead and pulse.
“We are almost there, dearest.”
Violet waved it off. “Serves me right for trying to read in the carriage.”
Arthur held back a smile, not allowing it to show even the barest hint in his expression. He didn’t know how long shewould insist on clinging to the charade, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. Not yet.
Settling back once more, their eyes turned to the landscape, and Arthur pressed a kiss to his wife’s head. Her hand rested on his chest, and her fingers fiddled with the lapels of his jacket in a way that never failed to send warm pulses through him. Seven months of marriage, and he still hadn’t grown used to the feeling.
In the distance, they spied the first signs of the village, and the guard blasted his horn, announcing their arrival to all and sundry. Leaning forward once more, the pair watched as Thornsby came into sight. The main thoroughfare cut a path through the cottages and buildings that were pressed up to the roadway, their signs swinging with the breeze. More buildings spanned outward; in the distance, they spied the church spire, and a distant boom of the bell marked the passing hour.
“It looks so much like Oakham, yet it feels entirely different,” she said.
Arthur nodded, though he couldn’t put his finger on precisely why that was. The door opened, and he stepped down, offering his hand to Violet. Eight months since their engagement, yet she still glanced at it as though uncertain what to do with the gentlemanly overture, and once more, Arthur cursed the gentlemen of Devon who hadn’t seen fit to make such little kindnesses commonplace for her.
Violet slid her hand through his arm, and they examined the street. Just ahead, they spied what looked to be a village square, though the bend in the road hid it from view. Arthur tossed a few coins to a manservant at the coaching inn with instructions to watch over their trunks before leading her back the way they’d come.
