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Jemmah clutched his hand, and jaw sagging, she stared in stunned incredulity.

Confusion yanked his brows together, and he patted her hand twice.

“Why do you look at me like that? Don’t you want me to give your mother any funds? I thought you’d be pleased, but if not—”

Shaking her head, Jemmah’s mouth quivered.

“No, no. It’s not that at all. I think it very generous of you, and most forgiving too.”

More forgiving than she was capable of so soon.

Mama didn’t deserve Jules’s magnanimity.

He bent nearer, and brazenly brushed his lip across the top of Jemmah’s ear.

“Then what is it?”

Jemmah slid Mary a covert glance.

Completely absorbed in the passing scenery, the maid hadn’t heard Jules.

Jemmah scooted a little nearer, brushing her thigh against his in a most provocative way.

Keeping her voice low, so neither the driver nor Mary might overhear, she murmured, “You said... Well, at least I thought you said, ‘When we wed.’”

She raised hopeful eyes to Jules’s.

How pathetic she must look. How mortified she’d be if she’d misunderstood.

They’d never discussed marriage, but his courting and repeated visits to Mama must mean he’d contemplated the matter at some length. And when the time was right, he’d broach the subject with Jemmah.

Although, as long as Mama refused to let him officially address Jemmah, they’d little choice but to wait for her to come of age or elope to Gretna Green.

Not an entirely awful notion by half.

Actually, a rather grand one. Mayhap she should mention it to him.

If he proposed.

And if he didn’t? If she’d misheard?

Well then, when the dowager returned to the country, Jemmah would accompany her.

Thank goodness she had the promised position to fall back upon. The knowledge brought her a great deal of comfort.

Tenderness bent Jules’s mouth and pleated the angles of his face, deepening his fascinating eyes to a simmering cognac.

“Indeed, I did say that very thing, my precious Jem. I thought you understood that’s always my intention, my sweet, since I found you cozily slumbering in Theo’s parlor. To make you my duchess, the keeper of my heart.”

She couldn’t quite subdue her tiny elated gasp.

Sudden wariness filtered across his face, and he straightened a bit. “Did I assume wrongly? Misjudge your affections?”

“No, not at all, Your Grace.”

“Jules,” he reminded her.

Jemmah’s eyes misted and giving him a tremulous smile, she dragged her handkerchief from her reticule. Chin tucked to her chest, she angled her parasol and discreetly dabbed her eyes. “I didn’t dare dream something so wholly marvelous would happen to me.”