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He nodded, attempting not to stare as he followed her down the remaining steps. She cut the most distracting figure as she walked ahead of him, her hips moving in a rhythm dangerously hypnotic, and it was only when he almost stumbled himself that he resolved to spend more time concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
A small, tree-lined clearing opened up before them. Meg moved forward, looking around as she went—but then she stopped.
‘Whose house is this?’
Jacob drew alongside her. She was surveying the cottage that had appeared in front of them, her smooth brow creased, and he took his courage in his hands.
‘Ours, if you want it. For the time being, at least.’
‘Ours? What do you mean?’
Jacob looked at the cottage, hoping it might help him to explain. It was small and the thatched roof had seen better days, but its curtains were clean and the windows stood open to allow a fresh breeze to spirit away any cobwebs inside. It hadn’t changed a bit since he’d last seen it, still as picturesque as he remembered, and a little of his confidence returned as he saw Meg admiring the roses climbing around the door.
‘I’ve arranged for us to stay here for a while. It’ll still be necessary to go back to the big house for much of each day, but you’ll at least have some sort of refuge to retreat to.’
His heart raced as Meg’s eyes widened. ‘I could stay here? With you?’
He couldn’t quite tell whether she thought that was an appealing prospect. The sight of her disbelief certainly was, though, and he hurriedly fought back the unacceptable urge to cup her rosy face in his hands.
‘Yes. I asked the housekeeper for help getting it ready for us. Don’t worry,’ he went on quickly, seeing her spark of alarm. ‘She’ll keep our secret. She was my mother’s childhood nurse, and when my parents married my mother insisted Mrs Maplin be given a post at Wellbourne House. She loved my mother and doted on me when I was a boy, but—to our benefit—she has no such warm feelings for my brother.’
‘I see.’ Meg studied the cottage again, taking it in from the tilted chimney to the freshly swept doorstep. ‘Close to the house, yet separate. What made you think of it now?’
‘In all honesty I’d forgotten about it until this morning,’ Jacob admitted. ‘I used to come here when I was young. The head gardener lived here and I liked to visit to play with his dog. He died some years ago, and as the cottage has been empty ever since it suddenly occurred to me it might make the perfect sanctuary.’
‘Won’t Anthony mind?’
‘I don’t care if he does. As long as I keep showing my face to his guests so nobody suspects an undignified rift, he won’t object.’
She nodded, now inspecting the wisteria curling up the front wall. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he spied a gleam of excitement in her hazel eyes as she turned to him.
‘Can we go inside?’
‘Yes. The door should be unlocked.’
She didn’t delay. The words were hardly out of his mouth before she was up the path and disappearing inside, and he had to hurry to keep up with the vanishing hem of her gown.
He stood in a corner of the tight hallway, not wanting to get in her way as she darted between the kitchen and the parlour. The cottage rang with the pattering of slippered feet and regular exclamations with each new discovery, the handsome blue-and-white tiles that framed the parlour’s hearth eliciting a particularly gratifying gasp.
Compared to the grandeur of Wellbourne House, there was hardly anything to see, but the two modest rooms delighted Meg. ‘It’s wonderful.’ She trailed a hand over the whitewashed hall wall, admiring how her fingers came away clean. ‘So neat and pretty. Anyone with a cottage like this would be the envy of their neighbours in Hayworth.’
She cut him a suddenly searching look. ‘It’s a hundred miles from the luxury you’re used to, however. Are you sure you’ll be able to survive staying here, without servants or silver forks?’
‘I’m sure I’ll manage. Most people do.’
‘Most people weren’t born to a viscount. Nor did they inherit a fortune from their heiress of a mother.’
Jacob conceded her point. ‘I can’t deny that. All the same, I think I’ll cope.’
Her eyes flitted up to meet his briefly before dropping quickly away. The look was over too swiftly to read, but he thought she at least didn’t seem displeased.
‘May I look upstairs?’
‘You can do whatever you wish.’
He followed her up the creaking staircase, the space so narrow his shoulders almost brushed the wall on either side. A tiny strip of landing lay at the top, bathed in light coming through a window that overlooked the kitchen garden below, but it wasn’t the view that Meg commented on.
‘Is there only one bedroom?’
