Page 30

‘I need to go into Marchingham today. I’ve yet to find a christening gift for Celia, and I was wondering…would you want to come with me?’

He saw a flicker of hazel sweep towards him from beneath her eyelashes. It was impossible to tell if it was meant as a yes or a no, and he went on before the latter could become more apparent.

‘I know little about what’s suitable for babies. Frankly, I’d appreciate the help.’

Her head lifted. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Very good.’ Trying to hide the immediate upward surge of his spirits, he nodded. If she was willing to spend time with him voluntarily then it could only mean she wasn’t too horrified by what had happened during the night, and that alone felt like a step in the right direction. ‘I’ll go to the stables for the horses. Shall we meet on the drive in an hour?’

At her murmured assent, he made to get to his feet. That was easier said than done while simultaneously trying to prevent the precarious cover of his blanket from showing more than he intended, however, and he caught Meg’s smile widen a fraction as he wrapped the offending article around his waist.

Her eyes skimmed over him and he thought he saw them darken as they reached the line of black hair leading downwards between the V-shaped ridges of his hips. It seemed to him she didn’t object to the sight of him wearing next to nothing, even without the nighttime darkness to hide her blushes, and it was difficult not to swagger slightly as he left the room, aware she was watching as he went.

‘What about this one?’

Meg looked round as Jacob pointed to another stuffed bear. Despite it being the middle of the morning, the shop they stood in was gloomy from the thick grey clouds outside, their heavy bellies promising rain, but even so she could see his choice of gift hadn’t quite hit the mark.

‘I’m not sure…’

If nightmares were to be part of the present he wanted to give his niece, then the bear was just the thing. Somehow its button eyes had a malevolent glitter and its mouth a slight leer, and Meg had to nip her own bottom lip to keep a laugh in check.

He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know what was suitable.

Already that morning he had made several suggestions, none better than the last, and it was becoming harder to find tactful ways to say so. His faintly terrifying taste seemed to be getting worse as they moved from shop to shop, constantly peering upwards for rain as they went, but she was beginning to suspect it was deliberate.

‘Why not? He’s a handsome enough fellow, isn’t he?’

With a sigh he turned away, leaving the disquieting furry apparition on its shelf, although not before Meg saw a poorly concealed gleam in his eye.

He is. He’s doing it on purpose!

Still trying to hide a now disbelieving smile, she studied an array of lace-edged baby caps displayed in a glass case. After everything between them had fallen apart, she’d never thought they would joke together again, and yet here they were—and that wasn’t the only thing she wouldn’t have predicted even a few weeks before.

She shivered, but not from any cold draught. Scenes from the previous night kept coming back to her, making her grow warm beneath her gown, and she had to bite her lip for a very different reason than amusement as the memory of Jacob bearing down on her circled round again.

Was there any chance their heated encounter would result in a child of their own, a cousin to follow hot on Celia’s little heels? The idea had occurred to her earlier as she’d been admiring a cabinet of beautifully embroidered christening gowns in another shop, and it had insisted on presenting itself with alarming regularity ever since. It was the most curious prospect, half-terrifying and half-delightful, and while her relationship with Jacob was currently so ambiguous she couldn’t tell which side would triumph. A baby would tie them irrevocably together, a real connection nothing could undo…but was that what Jacob would want?

It didn’t necessarily signify anything that he’d kissed her into speechlessness, his hands moving over every exposed inch, but then again, could it? She didn’t even try to deny that she hoped so, but to ask him would be a leap she refused to take.

Pretending to consider a pretty bonnet trimmed with ivory ribbon, she instead used the polished surface of the glass to sneak a look at what Jacob was doing behind her. At first glance he appeared to be examining a fantastically ugly doll sitting on a shelf near where she was bending over the caps, but then she flushed to realise he seemed in fact to be surreptitiously admiring the curve of her backside.

At least, even after all this time, some things about him still remain the same.

It was an oddly comforting thought, but it still couldn’t chase away the uncertainties that harried her. She wouldn’t speak unless he did. For all she knew, he was like any number of men from the village: able to separate physical desire from sentiment and not attaching much importance to either thing. Unless he told her explicitly that the cynical basis of their marriage had changed, she’d have to assume all was as it had been before… Although surely his choice to share an enjoyable morning with her instead of leaving her alone hinted at things left unsaid…?

The shop’s bell tinged behind them as they stepped out onto the cobbles. The high street was busy even with the ever-present threat of rain, a procession of well-dressed ladies and smart gentlemen hurrying beneath the leaden sky. It seemed the heavens could open at any moment and Meg wished she’d thought to complement the pretty gown she wore with the parasol Jacob had silently thrust at her during her first week at Wellbourne House, when the very idea of wearing such finery and mixing with the refined elegance of the ton had been like something from a bad dream.

Now, however, she had to admit her reticence had been misguided. The Society women she’d met had been welcoming and the clothes thrilling to put on each morning, and she’d be lying if she said living among the upper class was the ordeal she’d expected. She was still sharp enough to know things would be different if her former life was revealed, but even so it might not be the world-ending catastrophe she’d once envisaged—although, of course, she’d always be a village girl in her heart.

Jacob was inspecting the display in another shop’s window. A glance through the glass showed a splendid array of jewellery and other trinkets, and for the first time his interest seemed genuine.

‘Something like that would meet Isabella’s high standards, I’m sure.’ He gestured to an elaborate silver rattle lying on a velvet cushion at the front of the display. ‘Isn’t silver the traditional choice for a christening?’

Meg wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, although only for those fortunate few that can afford it.’

Jacob’s mouth quirked. ‘Are you forgetting that includes you? You’re a wealthy woman now. You have the money to purchase whatever you please, silver christening gifts included.’

She shook her head quickly. ‘No, I don’t. It’s your money.’