Turning to her, Frederick lifted their joint hands to his lips. The sunlight gathered about her like a veil of gold, and the certainty of his love filled the hollow left by the loss of his family and Dunsby Hall. Drawing in a long, quiet breath, her scent steadied him, and when he looked at her, a faint, weary smile touched his mouth. Whatever waited beyond the gates, they would face it together.
Glancing down at his solitary bag, Thea’s brows rose. “Where are your trunks? Is that all you have?”
Frederick tugged on their joined hands and drew her close, his arm fitting around her as he leaned in, and borrowing her words, he whispered, “I have your heart, Thea Keats. That is all I require.”
And with that, he pressed his lips to hers.
*
All the fear, the uncertainty, the ache of parting and change, and everything else that had weighed her down vanished beneath Frederick’s gentle touch. It was as though his kiss had gathered up all the broken pieces of her and set them to rights again, and Thea leaned into him, accepting the calm that filled every hollow space.
When they parted, the ache in her chest was gone. What remained was stillness. And certainty.
But Frederick ruined it by saying, “We must get you to the coaching inn.”
Letting out a heaving sigh, Thea nodded and shifted to slip her arm through his as they strode away from Dunsby Hall.She held tight to him, offering the strength he needed in that moment—just as he would do so for her in the coming months and years.
Their old life was gone, but they would build a new one together. One that lacked the grandness of the world they’d known, but it would be all the more beautiful because it would be theirs.
Chapter 41
26 October 1801
My darling Frederick,
If I sound out of humor, forgive me. I had hoped to write something light and cheerful to make you smile, but I find myself unequal to the task today.
Rosewood Cottage is proving far more temperamental than I imagined. Having been empty for some years, every inch has something that requires my attention. A draft here, a crack there, and no sooner do I mend one thing than another gives way. The roof leaks in three separate places, so that I must rise in the middle of the night to move the basins about like a general repositioning his troops, and I am so very tired, which doesn’t help in the slightest.
There are moments when I think the house itself is testing me, waiting to see how much I will endure before I yield. I am trying to see the humor in it as you would, but the days have been long, and I am not yet clever enough with tools to make much progress.
The neighbors are polite but little more. They nod and smile, but they do not linger, and I cannot tell whether they fearoffending me or being seen speaking with the gently bred lady who looks like a washerwoman. Or perhaps they simply do not know what to do with me.
And matters weren’t helped today when I received word that Mina is unable to visit this spring. I doubt you will be surprised to learn that Uncle is unhappy with her assisting me (apparently, I ought to be a dutiful daughter and end this rebellion at once), and travel is dear enough that she cannot afford the journey until she can set aside more pin money.
When I grow discouraged, I try to hear your voice. I try to imagine how you would tease and twit me into seeing the best in this situation, and though it helps, I find it all the more difficult to keep my spirits up when the cottage is locked up for the night, and I am left entirely alone with naught but my thoughts to keep me company.
The truth is that I miss you, and my heart aches to see you.
But I will be better tomorrow.
I always am.
All my love,
Thea
Chapter 42
12 March 1802
My dearest Thea,
As per your suggestion, I have begun naming the tools in the shop. The spade is now Mr. Diggory, the rake answers to Miss Finch, and the harrow (being the most temperamental of the lot) goes byYour Ladyship. The workmen think me touched, but the implements have been in far better humor since I began addressing them properly.
Unfortunately, I fear my efforts to evict the draft in my rooms have proven futile. It slips through the shutters no matter how I wedge them and rattles the panes as though it is afraid that I might forget it is there. I suppose I must accept its presence and treat it as another tenant, though the bounder makes an awful racket at night and has yet to pay me a farthing in rent.
Still, I suppose it is a blessing in disguise, for I cannot claim that I am lonely with such a determined guest. Between that and the clatter of the forge next door, with hammering that begins at sunrise, there is always company. I must be the most industrious man in Haverford, if only because Mr. Cobb’s apprentices makecertain I never sleep past dawn and the ledgers demand my attention well into the night.
