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Very carefully she set the emerald gown aside, trying not to notice how closely he watched her. A dazzling confection in cornflower-blue satin came next and she stared transfixed at the sheen of the fabric as it caught the light, its colour shifting subtly as she moved it back and forth. The final gowns were more reserved day dresses, less elaborate but so well made they still seemed worthy of a queen, the pretty sprigged patterns calling to her to put one of them on right away. It was unbelievable to think she now owned such treasures, their quality the likes of which she had never seen, but then reality came surging back.

It wouldn’t be right for her to take them. Even at the height of their love she would have thought twice about letting him spend so much on her, and now that they weren’t even friends it would be even more inappropriate.

‘This is so considerate, but I can’t accept.’ Regretfully she placed the last dress on top of the others and backed away, noting Jacob’s frown. ‘I can’t allow you to spend so much on me, and besides, how can I go around in such expensive dresses when people in Hayworth can hardly afford to eat?’

She watched his mouth turn down at the corners, although seemingly in thought rather than annoyance.

‘I understand your feelings. These are necessary to keep you safe, however. Losing our leverage over Anthony won’t help anyone in the village, least of all you. For the duration of our time at Wellbourne House, we must keep the truth in reserve, and to do that you’ll have to look the part.’

Meg hesitated. As much as she might have wanted to argue, she had to admit he was right. Their plan hinged on exchanging their silence for Anthony’s continued good name and if his other guests learned their secret there would be nothing left to barter with. She didn’t have much choice but to let Jacob spend a small fortune on her, although such kindness risked blurring the line she was adamant not to cross.

That wasn’t to be entertained, however. It would be pure folly to wilfully misinterpret his unexpected thoughtfulness, bending the facts to fit whatever private desires might be trying to creep back in on her side, and Meg would never let her heart make a fool of her again. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t stay up here another day. What time is breakfast?’

Jacob consulted his pocket watch. ‘In about twenty minutes. Shall I call a maid to help you?’

‘I’m only pretending to be a lady. I’m still able to dress myself.’

‘Very good. If you think you can manage, I’ll see you downstairs.’

He turned to leave. He could have left without them exchanging another word, but instead Meg heard herself speak. ‘Jacob.’

She stopped as he looked back. What she’d been about to say struck her as very silly indeed, and yet…

‘Yes?’

With more blood rushing into her cheeks, she looked down at her bare feet. Suddenly she felt vulnerable, the thought of so many strange faces turning towards her making her want to hide. Anthony would sneer and his Society acquaintances would probably whisper among themselves when she entered the room, and she wished with every inch of her body that she was still at Lark Cottage where she belonged.

‘I don’t know if I have the nerve to walk in alone.’

Jacob’s look of wary enquiry changed to understanding. ‘Oh. I suppose… I can wait. If you want me to.’

Meg nodded quietly, glad he hadn’t made her ask directly. ‘Thank you. I shan’t be long.’

Uncertainly she took one of her new day dresses from the gleaming pile and made for the dressing screens on the other side of the bedroom. Behind her she heard a soft sound as Jacob sat on the end of the bed, her heart beginning to beat faster as she realised what she’d just committed herself to doing. Screen or no screen, she was about to undress while he was in the room, and the knowledge he would be mere feet away while she changed made her mouth run dry.

It was exactly the sort of situation she’d intended to avoid. It was far too intimate, inviting her to think of things that would do her no good at all, and yet somehow the alternative was worse. Going into breakfast alone was out of the question and she could hardly draw attention to the oddness of their arrangement by making Jacob wait outside her room while she got ready, such distance between husband and wife sure to raise questions of its own…

With breathless haste she washed her face and pulled her old wooden comb through her hair. There was no noise from the direction of the bed and with a silent prayer for strength she shrugged off her shawl, undid the ribbons at her throat—and stepped out of her nightdress

Her hands shook as she scrambled into her underclothes. For all her claims that she could dress herself, she certainly struggled with her shift, half-fearing—and half-hoping—to hear Jacob approach the screens. If he chose to he could knock them aside at any moment and the idea made her fingers clumsier than ever, barely able to pull strings and tie knots as she listened out for even the faintest sound.

In what must have been record time she drew on her new gown. Surely no real lady had ever dressed so quickly? But as she tried to tighten the laces at her back she realised she had little reason to feel smug.

She couldn’t do it.

Horrified, she tried again. The bodice wouldn’t close, however; no matter how she pulled, she couldn’t get the right angle to bring the two sides together without the long pleats behind her getting in the way, and no amount of twisting and turning in front of the mirror did anything to help. She was well and truly stuck, and as there was now no time to throw herself on the mercy of a maid she only had one option.

Gritting her teeth on her panic and pride, she called out. ‘It appears I spoke too soon.’

‘How so?’

Reluctantly she shuffled out from behind the screen, holding the gown firmly closed against her back. ‘I can’t… I can’t quite manage after all.’

She saw Jacob’s eyes widen as she emerged. For a moment he seemed to forget himself; he sat still on the edge of the bed, staring at her intently without saying a word, but then he got to his feet.

‘May I be of some help?’

She nodded jerkily, not willing to speak. He would have heard a tremor of mixed dread and, worryingly, anticipation in her voice, so instead she clamped her lips together as she turned around.