Jemina squinted; her gaze narrowed in the bright afternoon sun. “They look delicious, but it’s not a pomegranate.”
“This is true. Let’s continue the hunt.” He navigated her past two more tables. “This is busy but more orderly than Swansea Market. There are cows among its vendors, but I doubt Swansea has your pomegranate.”
“Why marry now, Daniel?” Her lips thinned to a sad line. That cupid’s bow drew him close. “I mean, you were married before. Was it successful?”
“Wasn’t long enough to tell.” Daniel faced the vendor. “How much for a pound? My daughter, she loves green beans.”
Her hand gripped his shoulder. Her nails digging into the wool, sending a sweet complicated shudder through him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t hide from me.”
Her tone was low, meant for his ears, but how could he answer?
“That would be a tuppence,” the old man said, and tugged his thick apron.
Pulling out his purse, he paid and waited for the man to portion out the green beans onto a scale and then scoop them into a sack.
Jemina collected them. They kept walking. Her silence gnawed at him.
“We corresponded two and a half years. I did love her. Yet, I don’t know if I truly understood her or she me. Sometimes, I reread her letters looking for anything I missed, anything I’ll be able to tell Hope.”
“What makes you doubt your love or hers?”
He couldn’t say it aloud. He’d told his aunt about the paperwork he’d forged, but not about Phoebe Dunn never saying a word about Hope. That was dishonesty, and she cheated Hope out of her name and a story or two that he could share with her child.
“Daniel?”
“I wish I had something for Hope. I don’t want her to forget Phoebe. We go every year on Hope’s birthday to Portsmouth and cast flowers, lignum vitae into the sea.”
“That’s beautiful, Daniel.”
Jemina’s eyes became glossy. Reminding her of theMinervahad made her sad. As quickly as he could, he spun Jemina like they danced a reel.
“I do not think we’ll find a pomegranate today. We’ll have to come another time.”
“Keep distracting me. I need you to, Daniel.”
He twirled her and kept her moving. The man who never did anything to draw attention, found himself dancing Jemina in public back to his carriage.
With her lifted inside, he instructed Mr. Anthon to head to Sandlin Court. Then Daniel sat beside her. “Tell me your secret, Jemina. I know you remember something.”
She clawed at his lapel. “I lost a child, Daniel. At some point in my life, I don’t know when, but I did. And I feel her sometimes. And I miss her.”
“Jemina?”
“Don’t ask if I’m sure, or when or even her name. I don’t know. You want Hope to not forget her mother. How horrible is it for a mother to not remember her child?”
Daniel pulled Jemina into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”
She trembled against him. “Distract me. I’m tired of mourning.”
“No. I’ll not distract you. I’ll mourn with you. I can understand grieving missing pieces.”
She put her head to his shoulder and melted into him.
“Marry me, Jemina. It will let things die down, all the rumors and commotion about the new earl or the new heiress. Then I’ll dig up something for you. I’ll find a christening record, something. I’ll find a name. I promise.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek.
“At Lady Shrewsbury’s ball, the Widow’s Ball, we’ll announce our engagement. That’s the purpose of her celebration, for widows to start anew. I think it should be a new start for a widower too.”
