She shook her head. It was true: She didn’twantto tell him. Perhaps she would, at some point. Perhaps she would need to.
He slung an arm about her instead, and they sat together.
William came over and shoved his big face into their shoulders, asking for pats. They obliged him.
“I’m looking forward to teaching boys and girls, actually. It was so very good of Marchand to arr—agree to it.”
She stared at him. Her breath stopped.
She was fairly certain she knew what Garth had almost said:arrange.
And possibly he had said it on purpose.
“Itwasgood of him,” she said slowly.
A wave of the warmest, sweetest love for Gabriel swept through her and stole her breath so thoroughly she couldn’t speak for a moment.
“Hogarth...” she said carefully. “I think Gabriel Marchand is a good man.” Her heart beat with nervous speed.
He eyed her intently. He seemed to be considering this. “I think you may be right,” he said gently. “Believe it or not.”
That was all she was going to say about it for now.
“I think you should do all the talking during the marital settlement discussions, Garth. I’ll make sure you’re prepared. I’ll go with you. But you’re the earl, and the official head of the family now, and I think you should take on that role and everything that goes with it. I will help, if you need help. But I want you to do it.”
“All right,” he said. “I can do that. You’ve carried us for so long. I am so grateful. We all are.”
“I haven’t minded.” Her voice was hoarse. “You all mean everything to me.” How would Hogarth’s expression change if she told him about Gabriel?
Would she lose them forever if she married a beautiful rogue?
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
Felicity and Fiona emerged from the house lugging a littlepicnic hamper, and they all sat in front of the fountain and ate tea cakes and fruit and cheese, sharing bites with William.
Back in her own bedroom at last, she unpacked her valise and trunk, which Hogarth and their man of all work had fetched from the drive.
Like a madwoman she sniffed carefully every dress she’d worn when Gabriel held her or kissed her, hoping against hope to find some trace of his scent on them. She found nothing.
She put them away in her clothes press. Every single one of those dresses was a veritable museum of memories. All she needed to do was look at her goldenrod pelisse and she would see him gazing across at her, comparing the stars in the sky to her freckles, trying and failing not to fall in love with her.
Next, she opened up her valise to retrieve her hairbrush and stockings.
She went still.
Something was wedged into the bottom of it. A little box of some sort she didn’t recognize. She wondered if one of the maids at the Grand Palace on the Thames had tucked it in there.
She reached in, pulled the string that held it closed, and lifted the lid.
Inside, tucked inside cotton wool, was the shepherdess she’d seen in Fleegle’s Emporium of Wonders.
The one who had belonged to Henrietta Parker! The one whose friends had all been used for skeet. Gabriel must have gone back for it.
She gave a little happy cry when she realized it was wrapped in one of his handkerchiefs.
She gently unpacked the shepherdess and gave her a spot on her window ledge.
Then Ginny sat at her window, watching the lowering sun through the trees in the rambling park behind their house. She held the clean, soft, bright loveliness of his handkerchief to her face and breathed him in. She closed her eyes. Her heart felt a thousand times too big for her chest. Her head ached from fatigue and from weeping too much lately.
