Page 16

She jerked upright. Jacob’s voice was recognisable even when whispering and it set her heart skipping, more glad to hear it than she should have been after two days of silence.

‘Yes. Where else would I be?’

‘Fair point. May I come in?’

Her widened eyes flew to the long mirror standing opposite her bed. The reflection in it did not show someone ready for visitors. She looked as though she didn’t own a comb, her hair still tousled from sleep, and the fabric of her nightgown was too thin to allow much modesty, although the unhelpful thought occurred to her that Jacob had seen her in a similar state before and had not seemed to mind.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

She felt herself flush. That had been then, she reminded herself swiftly. Whatever was happening between them now was another matter completely and as such any traces of intimacy should be squashed before they began—including letting her new husband see her in little more than a wisp of linen.

Hurriedly she slid from the bed and approached the door. The chair was still wedged firmly under the handle and she sat down, leaning to place her ear against the wood.

‘I’m not yet dressed,’ she replied cautiously. ‘What do you want?’

There was a pause in which she thought she heard an evasive cough. ‘Apologies for my absence. I thought you’d prefer to be left in peace for a day or two, but questions are beginning to be asked. I’ve been telling everyone you’ve had a slight head cold that you didn’t want to pass on to my niece. My sister-in-law won’t have anyone with so much as a sniffle within a mile of her daughter, but the excuse is starting to wear thin. You’ll need to come down for breakfast.’

Meg’s heart sank. How was she supposed to sit at table with a room full of people who would probably despise her if they knew the real circumstances of her marriage? Any friend of Anthony was unlikely to be a friend to her, and to see the man himself glaring at her over the coffee pot would be the stuff of night terrors.

She thought quickly. What should she say? She’d have to tell Jacob something, and fortunately the truth provided a perfect excuse.

‘I can’t. I couldn’t come down even if I wanted to.’

‘Why not?’

She plucked at the mended hem of her nightgown. ‘My clothes are hardly fitting. One look at me in one of my old dresses and all your brother’s friends will see I’m no lady.’

Unfortunately, Jacob didn’t sound discouraged. ‘Hmm. I thought that might be it.’

There was rustling from the landing. ‘Open the door. I have something for you.’

Meg wavered. Curiosity was a powerful thing. Letting him in would be asking for trouble, but all the same she couldn’t help but wonder what solution he thought he’d found for her reticence. She’d only know if she opened the door, and despite her better judgement she found herself reaching for her shawl.

‘Wait a moment.’

Wrapping herself in the heavy wool was the best she could do. It left the skirt of her nightgown exposed but she could at least hide her top half as she moved the chair away from the door, clutching the shawl tightly to her chest when the hinges squeaked inwards and Jacob stepped into the room.

He gave her a nod, the deliberate impassivity that accompanied it faltering slightly as he took in her attire. She saw his eye flit from her loose hair to her bare feet and up again, stopping briefly on the faint line of her hips beneath her skirt on the way back to her face. His apparently involuntary study made her colour and she hoped he hadn’t noticed, pointing at the bag he set down on her dressing table to draw attention away from her heated cheeks.

‘What’s that?’

‘Just a few things to make your time here a little easier.’

Jacob folded his arms and leaned back against the closed door. He looked tired, and not for the first time Meg wondered where he’d been sleeping. Wherever it was, he clearly wasn’t getting much rest, the blue of his eyes emphasised by the shadows underneath them, although not even dark circles could make him any less perilously attractive as he watched her warily pull open the bag and peer inside.

She gasped. Her fingers skimmed over jewel-bright silk as she drew out a green gown, the skirts cascading to the floor in an emerald waterfall.

‘What…?’

She gaped at the beauty hanging from her hands. Another bewildered study of the bag showed it wasn’t empty; there were still at least another two gowns inside, and she knew she must look every bit as shocked as she felt.

‘Where did you get these?’

Jacob lifted a broad shoulder. ‘The modiste in Marchingham. I told her that by some accident all my wife’s dresses had been lost, and that I would be grateful if she could alter any she might have put by to fit.’ His voice was roughened with unease. ‘I hope I chose correctly. I was fairly confident I could still remember your approximate measurements, but of course it’s been a while since I…since we were…’

The blush still warming Meg’s face deepened. He didn’t need to finish his sentence to tell her what he’d been thinking, just as she didn’t need to say anything to tell him she understood. The same recollection must have just flitted by for both of them: how he’d once been allowed to map out her measurements using his hands, knowing the exact shape and size of her waist as he’d pulled her towards him in some secluded part of the woods. Only the desire not to bear a child out of wedlock had stopped her from letting him possess her completely, but other liberties had been granted, her knowledge of the secret landscape of his body just as detailed as his was of hers.

She ran a fingertip over one sleeve, willing herself to focus on the pearl embroidery rather than wonder if he still had the same constellation of freckles splashed across his back. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you.’