Page 33

Seated beside Anthony, Jacob could almost feel the hostility radiating from his brother’s body. He’d given Meg the scantest of nods on her arrival, clearly only for the benefit of anyone who might have been watching, but even that had struck Jacob as him trying to look vaguely threatening. Meg had stiffened and he thought she might have backed away if he hadn’t thrown Anthony a stony glare of his own, only being persuaded to sit when he had firmly positioned himself between the glowering Viscount and her, and it was a relief when the vicar stepped up to the font and the service began.

Good. Jacob forced himself to relax the tension in his shoulders. The sooner this starts, the sooner it’ll end.

He tried to pay attention to what the clergyman was saying but it was difficult to focus. The pew was narrow and it forced Meg’s skirts to rest against his knee, the leg he knew lay beneath them one he could hardly stop remembering caressing three nights before. Since that first one spent together they had maintained their distance, him dutifully returning to his nest on the floor instead of joining her in the bed, but restraint hadn’t made the memories any less intense, and it was a struggle not to let them overcome him even at such an inappropriate time.

Dutifully facing the front of the chapel, he nonetheless tried to glimpse her in his peripheral vision. Her bonnet, becoming as it was, partially hid her face, and in the absence of any certainty he found himself trying to guess her present state of mind. Anyone with half a brain could deduce being so near Anthony was unpleasant for her, and he felt his concern grow alongside the undercurrent of aversion for his brother that flared whenever they met.

If he could have spared her having to attend the christening he would have done, but of course they’d been duty bound to appear. The one silver lining was the sheer number of people in attendance that Anthony was trying to impress; such a gathering of Society’s best and brightest meant there was no chance he would be ungracious to Meg while they were there to see it, an unwitting insurance policy, but an effective one all the same. Being so roundly thwarted was unlikely to enhance Anthony’s mood but there was little he could do about it, although Jacob knew it was too early to begin letting down his guard.

The godparents were waved forward. There was a brief moment of indignity while the two godmothers jostled to see who would succeed in carrying baby Celia, and he used the disruption to whisper near Meg’s ear as he left the pew to take up his place by the font.

‘You’re doing well.’

‘I’m not so sure of that. My heart’s racing like a runaway horse.’

Her lips barely moved. There was no way they could have been overheard but apparently even a near-silent exchange was forbidden: Isabella glared at them, any sign of inattention to her precious daughter’s christening evidently not to be tolerated, and with an inward roll of his eyes Jacob went to perform his godfatherly duties.

Prayers were said and promises made. Celia screamed so loudly the chapel roof seemed to shake when the holy water was splashed on her, but the victorious godmother was soon able to soothe her, jigging the white lace-swathed bundle up and down with practised skill. The whole service didn’t last an hour and it wasn’t long before Jacob was escorting Meg back up the chapel’s aisle, trying to think chaste, church-appropriate thoughts as her fingers tightened on his arm.

Outside, having made sure Celia had been returned to her tired-looking nurse, Isabella was loudly issuing directives. ‘If you’d all like to follow Lord Fernley and I back to the house, we have a fine dinner prepared. Pineapple for everyone, to celebrate such a special day!’

Anthony appeared distinctly less thrilled than his wife about the prospect, doubtless given the eyewatering expense was in honour of a mere daughter rather than the son he’d wanted, but the Viscount would never let his mask slip in public. He extended an arm to Isabella and together they began to lead their guests away, leaving the chapel’s garden for the looming bulk of Wellbourne House on the other side of the small ornamental park.

Preparing to follow the crowd, Jacob glanced down at Meg. She was looking away from the retreating guests towards the edge of the woods, tracking the movement of a faint plume of smoke rising from a chimney somewhere in the distance. It came from the direction of Hayworth and he thought he caught a ghost of wistfulness cross her face, over and gone again in a blink, but enough to tell him the nature of her thoughts.

She’s missing her family.

The knowledge sat heavily. He’d always known she cared deeply for her father and brother, but the confession she’d made three days earlier had shown him exactly how much, and in truth he was still struggling to come to terms with how far she’d been prepared to go to protect those she held dear.

The first wave of surprise had faded, leaving behind a kind of horrified disbelief. To save her brother from the rope she’d been willing to put her neck into it instead, a decision he couldn’t say he’d have made himself. His own brother didn’t inspire such devotion; he might have been willing to help Anthony up to a certain point, but courting death would have been a step too far, a lifetime of withstanding the Viscount’s spite leaving him disinclined to follow Meg’s example.

‘You seem distracted. What are you thinking about?’

Belatedly he realised she was peering up at him as they walked. ‘Just what you told me about your brother,’ he admitted. ‘I can still hardly believe the sacrifice you were willing to make.’

Her face clouded slightly. ‘It seems strange to you because your relationship with your own brother is so different. I love Peter, and when you love someone you’d do anything to keep them safe.’

She looked away again, back towards the smoke drifting in the distance. The edge of wistfulness had returned and Jacob felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat.

He might not be willing to trade his life for Anthony’s, but if Meg was in danger he wouldn’t think twice.

It was a startling truth to be confronted by. In spite of all his efforts to guard his heart, she’d slipped back into it regardless, as though she’d never been away, and there was little he could do to stop her from making a home for herself in the vulnerable place within him reserved only for her.

He wasn’t delighted she’d lied to him about being the one caught poaching, but he understood why she’d done it. She was right: when it came to protecting loved ones, nothing was off-limits, but his admiration of her bravery was mingled with powerful disappointment he was trying his hardest to hide.

Such devotion to her family doubtless meant there was little chance she’d want to accompany him when he returned to Derbyshire after the christening. Of course she would prefer to stay behind with them when he left, and there didn’t seem much point in asking her to choose. Her father and brother would always come first for her and he knew it…although could anything be read into the fact she’d confessed of her own volition, valuing him enough to finally want to tell him the truth?

Thinking about it made his head ache, and he resolved to set the matter aside. There were still a couple more weeks before he had to look the problem of his leaving in the eye and until then it was tempting to surrender to the desire simply to enjoy Meg’s company without trying to guess what lay ahead.

He felt her tap his arm. ‘We ought to walk faster. I just don’t know how I’ll cope if all the pineapple has gone by the time we get to the house.’ She raised an ironic eyebrow. Her moment of distraction seemed to have passed, and Jacob didn’t feel much inclined to continue his own as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, any chance to touch her something he was always ready to seize.

‘Come on, then. Let’s see if we can race the reverend to the front door.’

The dining room was stuffy and Meg fanned herself as she waited for dinner to be served.

An intimidating amount of cutlery was laid out in front of her and she eyed it dubiously. After the sugar tong debacle, she was wary of making another mistake, especially since much of Warwickshire’s upper class was seated around her. Isabella had invited half the county to celebrate Celia’s christening, or so it seemed, and the discomfort Meg always felt at being inside Wellbourne House was amplified accordingly, although Jacob had taken pains to make sure she didn’t feel out of her depth.

He’d already made good on his promise to introduce her to a couple of the charitable ladies he’d mentioned while they’d been in Marchingham a few days before. They had been pleased to include her, even going so far as to invite her to their next meeting as they had stood around eating delicate cakes and drinking tea and, now they were seated, Meg exchanged smiles with them from her place a little further along the table. If it had been her intention to establish herself among the neighbourhood’s ton she would have been well on her way to success, but of course she still didn’t know what the future had in store.