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‘And you’re my wife, which puts it at your disposal.’

It had never occurred to her that he’d be willing to give her free rein over his considerable fortune. Putting his finances at his wife’s disposal was what an affectionate husband would do, not one bound solely by duty, and she tried not to wonder if his open-handedness was an insight into anything more.

‘I don’t know about that.’ Carefully casual, she pretended to examine the rattle herself. ‘If it were the case, though, I don’t think I’d use it to buy expensive things.’

‘What, then? What would you do instead?’

A glance showed his interest wasn’t feigned. ‘I’d like to help those that needed it. A woman in my position could probably do a lot of good if she tried, although I’d have no idea where to start.’

Jacob looked thoughtful. ‘I could potentially assist with that, if you were sincere.’ At her quizzical expression he went on. ‘There’s a group of ladies that meet each month to take up various charitable causes. My mother was a member. If you had a mind to join them, I’d be pleased to introduce you.’

‘Oh?’ Meg peered up at him delightedly. ‘Would you? Do you think they would allow me to work with them?’

‘Of course.’ A shadow flitted over his face, somehow soft but sad. ‘When my mother was alive, she always pushed my father to be sure he was fair to his tenants. She wanted to make a difference to people’s lives. I know she would have been pleased my wife was the same.’

There was a note of something in his voice that Meg couldn’t quite place. He’d never spoken much about his mother, even when they had been younger, and the touch of pensiveness made her want to take his hand.

At one time she wouldn’t have dared. It would have felt like an unwanted imposition to try to offer him sympathy, but after the night they’d spent together things between them were less clear cut, and she found herself reaching for him before she’d consciously decided to move.

He looked surprised but not displeased as she folded her gloved hand over his.

‘Thank you. I’d be grateful if you’d help me use whatever influence I might have for good.’

She smiled, aware as she met his eye that her cheeks had taken it upon themselves to flush. ‘With your guidance, I’m starting to find being a fine lady isn’t quite as intimidating as I always feared.’

He gazed down at her. He took in her countenance and the way her much smaller palm rested over his, and she saw something had set cogs turning in his mind.

‘Was that your fear?’ he asked, suddenly earnest. ‘Years ago… Was it worry that stopped you—?’

He cut himself off as an abrupt rumble of thunder growled overhead. In the same instant an onslaught of raindrops began to pelt down around them, and still with Jacob’s hand in hers Meg pulled him towards a nearby awning.

‘Come on. We’ll be soaked!’

Together they hurried for safety. The striped canvas shielding a tobacconist’s doorway that they dived beneath was barely a few feet wide, and the narrow cover made it necessary for them to draw so close they were practically nose to nose. It would have been easy to overbalance while squeezed into such a small space, so it made perfect sense that Jacob’s hand somehow ended up at the base of Meg’s spine, helping her to stay upright as rain crashed down and darkened the cobbled street.

Finding herself all but leaning against Jacob’s broad chest was an unexpected but not unwelcome development. It allowed her to catch the subtle scent of his cologne and fresh tang of his shaving soap, and it became rapidly apparent that unless she seized on something to say there was a danger he might notice how much she was enjoying the experience.

‘At last, some rain. Pa will be delighted.’

Jacob peered through the murk, watching as a gentleman scuttled past with a newspaper held over his head. ‘So I can imagine. Nobody loves rain quite like a farmer.’

The mention of her father evidently set him thinking, as after a slight pause he continued. ‘Do you believe your family will stay in Hayworth, even after the damage Anthony has done to the village by enclosing the estate?’

‘Yes.’ Sensing what might follow, Meg braced herself. ‘I know Pa will never go anywhere else.’

‘You sound very sure of that.’

‘That’s because I am.’

Even without looking at him she sensed Jacob was waiting for an explanation. It was a natural reaction, and she didn’t blame him for it, but that didn’t mean she was in a hurry to provide one. There wasn’t anywhere to hide from it, however; certainly not while she was pressed so pleasantly against the front of his slightly damp shirt.

‘You need to know the background to understand Pa’s reasons,’ she said reluctantly. ‘My parents lost three children between my birth and Peter’s. Ma was beginning to lose hope of having another living child, so when he was born she treasured him as a miracle. My parents and I probably spoiled him a little more than we should have, and he’s grown headstrong as a result, but he’s a good boy, really, with a good heart.’

The image of her brother as a baby appeared before her, all chubby legs and gummy smiles, and suddenly she missed him so much it felt as if she’d mislaid part of herself.

‘Peter was barely three when our mother died. He can hardly remember her now, but every Sunday Pa and I would take him to visit her and our siblings in the churchyard so she could see he was well and thriving, and so I could assure her I was doing my best raising him in her stead.’ She held back a sigh, the memory bittersweet. ‘Her being buried there with my younger sisters is why my father will never give up our plot of land. He won’t leave them: he’ll stay in the village for ever, close enough to walk over to see them each week, and he’ll only stop when he’s buried next to them himself.’

Jacob didn’t reply immediately. Clearly he was turning over what she’d said, and she appreciated that he didn’t jump in with some banality people often used when unsure how to respond.