Not falling in love.
In love.
With the man walking beside her.
Thomas Kincaid, detective and wicked kisser extraordinaire.
The best part was she knew he loved her, too.
Oh, he hadn’t said it yet. At least not in so many words. But how could he have shared his deepest secret if he didn’t love her? How could he have kissed her with such passion, if he didn’t love her? It was only a matter of time before he told her. And she was fairly confident he was going to do it soon, for else why would he have brought her to this beautiful place? Surely notjustto share news of the case. Although she was looking forward to that as well.
How dark and dismal things had seemed yesterday afternoon! Yet if there was a single lesson she’d learned over the past three months, it was that everything could change in the blink of an eye.
Three months ago, she had been in the process of turning down yet another mundane proposal from a well-meaning suitor. Now, she was holding the arm of a British detective she was madly in love with who was trying to recover a stolen ring that had been given to her mother by a father she’d never known existed.
In all her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined that this was where she would end up. All of those twists and turns, all the heartache and the tears, had led herhere. To Hyde Park. With Kincaid. And surely that was worth all the doubt and uncertainty.
For if not, what was the point?
Kincaid led her to the middle of a bridge with wide, wooden planks and a railing that had once been painted white but was now beginning to peel. He’d spoken little since he’d met her at his front door and turned her towards the park before she could even step foot in the foyer. All of the glances she’d stolen at him out of the corners of her eyes had revealed a pensive expression, his thoughts concealed behind a wall of calm stoicism.
He seemed…resolute.
As if he’d come to a decision.
And she all but beamed, because she knew what that decision was.
Practically, they’d have a few things to work out. Where they were going to live, for instance. She missed Claire and Grandmother. She missed them so much that sometimes her yearning to see their faces and hear their voices felt like a physical illness. But she did not miss Somerville, or her small place inside of it.
The village had stifled her spirit. For some, like Claire, who had no ambitions to leave, knowing every person who walked down the street was a comfort. For others, like Evie, it was an opportunity to be the biggest fish in a tiny pond. But for Joanna, it was, and always had been, a reminder of all the places she’d yet to see and all the life she’d yet to live.
She had done more in the past ten weeks than she had in the past ten years. All of it because she had finally left Somerville. Aside from her family, did she really have any reason to go back? ShelikedLondon. The chaotic business of it. The pleasure gardens. Mayfair. The theater district. This park. The seemingly endless sprawl of businesses, and homes, and museums. If she lived to be a hundred, she wouldn’t be able to see them all. But she’d very much like to accept the challenge.
If—when—they found Mother’s ring and sold it, the money could buy an endless amount of trips across the pond. She and Kincaid could see her grandmother and sisters as often as they liked, or even invite them to visit. It certainly wouldn’t be convenient. An eight-week voyage was hardly the definition of expediency. But itwouldbe possible. And sometimes, possibility was all a person could ask for.
“Look!” she gasped suddenly, her attention captured by a flash of silver in the clear water beneath the bridge. “There’s fish. At least a dozen of them.”
Kincaid joined her at the rail, his thigh pressing intimately against her hip as he followed the direction of her gaze. “Trout, if I had to guess. When Queen Caroline ordered the Serpentine built by damming up the River Westbourne, she had all manner of trout brought in from surrounding streams. Most perished. Trout are notoriously fickle creatures, and do not adapt to change easily.” Sunlight reflected off the fish’s scales as they swam lazily upstream. “But some managed to survive. These are most likely their great-great-great-descendants. Speaking of which…I’ve found your family, Miss Thorncroft.”
“Youdid?” she asked, too overwhelmed with excitement to notice he’d reverted to using her surname. “When? Where? Who? Tell me all about them!”
Amber eyes tender behind his spectacles, Kincaid gently brushed a curl off her cheek. “Perhaps we should sit, and I’ll tell you all that I have learned.”
They went to a bench underneath a weeping willow. There, cocooned in a sweeping cloak of green, he told her about finding Lady Ellinwood and the conversation they’d had over tea and cucumber sandwiches.
“I have a great-aunt,” Joanna whispered, not knowing whether she was thrilled or apprehensive by the news. A bit of both, she decided. Along with a slew of countless other emotions she couldn’t possibly begin to name.
“And a cousin,” said Kincaid, resting his hand on top of hers. “Rosemary. From the way Lady Ellinwood spoke about her, I should think she is similar in age to you and your sisters.”
“I want to meet them.” Joanna’s fingers curled inward, nails digging into her palms through the thin fabric of her kid gloves. “My aunt and my cousin. I want to meet them, Kincaid. As soon as possible.”
He hesitated. “It seems there was some…strain that developed between Lady Ellinwood and her late sister, Mabel. Your grandmother. They did not reconcile their differences before Mabel passed and Lady Ellinwood still harbors resentment which she has transferred to you and your sisters.”
“Tous? But we’ve never met her!”
He squeezed her hand. “I am certain, in time, she will come around.”
“I should hope so.” Joanna gave an irritated shake of her head. “It’s quite presumptuous of her, isn’t it, to form an opinion before we have even been introduced? Granted, I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but she should at leastmeetme before she decides I’m too loud and opinionated.”
