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‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know about any of that.’

Meg lifted a shoulder. ‘There are probably a lot of things we never told each other, despite how close we were. Who wants to talk about serious things when they’re young?’

Jacob acknowledged her point with a dip of his head. ‘We aren’t so young any more, though. We’re different people now.’

‘Are we?’

‘Yes. Or at least, I hope so.’

The hand on the small of her back tightened almost imperceptibly. There was something comforting in it that made her oddly glad she’d voiced what she hadn’t originally wanted to share; and, as was often the way of such things, one revelation called her to offer another.

‘Speaking of Peter…’

There was still one thing Jacob didn’t know, she thought uncomfortably as he looked down at her. Admitting the truth wasn’t something she’d expected to do that morning but, given the current closeness between them, there might never be a better time to air her final secret.

The distrust she’d felt that had initially made her stay silent was gradually ebbing away, and she wasn’t sure whether she ought to be trying to claw it back. Since their hasty marriage had begun, Jacob hadn’t put a foot wrong, instead keeping his promise to care for and protect her with quiet yet unshakable strength, although glimpses of the boy she’d known still showed through occasionally to remind her of what lay within. After spending the night together, the nature of their connection had been thrown into uncertainty, but of one thing at least she was sure: he hadn’t lied to her, and she owed it to him to show him the same respect in return.

‘There’s something else I need to tell you. Something I want to confess.’

She shuffled a half-step away, giving herself room to look down at the sodden ground. It was impossible to predict how he might react to what she was about to tell him, and if he was displeased she didn’t want to see it.

He might feel he’d married her under false pretences once he learned she wasn’t the thief after all. He might very well regret it, perhaps resenting that he’d felt forced to wed her when she’d been innocent all along. She could have escaped the noose without his intervention and she’d chosen not to, instead allowing Jacob to be dragged into her web of deceit; but, although the idea of coming clean filled her with dread, she knew he deserved to hear the truth.

‘I lied to you,’ she said baldly, her eyes fixed on a rivulet of dirty water trickling past her shoes. ‘It wasn’t me that was stealing Anthony’s pheasants the night you came back to Wellbourne House. It was Peter, and I took the blame to save him from the rope.’

While she avoided meeting Jacob’s gaze she couldn’t tell what his expression was. His only response was a deafening silence, one that seemed to stretch out for hours rather than the seconds it must have been.

Eventually he broke it. ‘I see. Is there more?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’ Involuntarily Meg raised her head, surprised at his calm. ‘I lied, Jacob. You offered to marry me thinking I’d be transported or worse if you didn’t help me, but it was never my crime. You proposed under false pretences, and I allowed it to happen.’

At last she made herself look directly at him. ‘I’m sorry. It was never my intention to trick you. I was acting to keep Peter safe, but…’

She tailed off. The iron sky and wide brim of his hat conspired to cast a shade over his features, making it more difficult to see them as he looked down at her, but all the same they didn’t appear to hold any anger.

It seemed he chose his next words with care. ‘I dislike that you were put in the position where you had to lie, but the falsehood itself is nothing to me. I can’t be offended when your intentions were so selfless.’

To her amazement he gave a hollow laugh. ‘Hell, Meg, I always knew you to be a strong-minded woman, but to deliberately sacrifice yourself, claiming his crime even when you knew the consequences… I can’t decide whether I’m more horrified or amazed. I’m not sure I would do the same for my brother.’

She breathed a tentative laugh of her own as relief swept through her. He wasn’t angry? He didn’t feel he’d been fooled, led down a path he wouldn’t have chosen otherwise?

‘I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t think our brothers can be compared.’

‘No. Nor should they be.’

Still with a slight air of disbelief, Jacob squinted up at the sky. ‘I think the rain’s stopping. Shall we make a run for it while we still can?’

Meg hesitated. Was that it? After how much she had built up her admission inside herself, was that really the full scope of Jacob’s reaction? She couldn’t tell whether his change of subject was deliberately to avoid further discussion, but it seemed a good idea to go along with it regardless. She’d said all she wanted to say and had somehow managed to get away with shockingly few consequences, but it would be a mistake to push her good fortune too far, and pulling her bonnet more securely down over her face, she prepared to follow as Jacob stepped out into the still lightly falling rain.

That went better than I ever could have expected. Is it evidence of his forgiving nature, however—or perhaps just that he doesn’t care enough to be bothered by a lie?

Chapter Eight

The Wellbourne estate’s pretty chapel was packed to the rafters with good taste. Silk gleamed, satin rustled and fashionably large hats blocked many from seeing the font, but to Jacob Meg was the only woman worth looking at.

She was a vision in sage, the colour enhancing the green highlights in her eyes, while the stylish bonnet that covered her hair supplied the perfect frame for her face. Nobody observing her would have suspected she was anything other than a lady and he’d felt a ripple of pride to see several admiring glances flick towards her as they’d taken their places in the Fernley family pew.

There was one who wasn’t quite so appreciative, however.