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‘Where are we going?’

‘Away, just for a moment or two. I think we both need to collect our thoughts.’

Forgetting about the cold audience in the drawing room was enormously tempting, but she felt compelled to make at least some pretence at reluctance.

‘We can’t. You’re the host. You can’t leave your guests unattended.’

‘I disagree. It’s because I’m the host that I can do as I please.’

‘But—’

‘I’m sure they’ll survive.’

She had no inclination to argue further. His hand felt delightfully warm and strong on hers and she didn’t protest as he guided her into an alcove tucked away round a corner, skilfully turning her so her back rested against the wall.

‘We’ll stay here for a second. Let’s just catch our breath.’

Meg didn’t need to be told twice. It was a relief to be out of the parlour and even more of a bonus to be alone with Jacob without being observed. Everyone in that room now knew she’d been born and raised a lowly villager and, although most of them had reacted tactfully to the news, it still wasn’t enjoyable to be scrutinised—even without Isabella’s accusations adding further scandal to the mix. It would be pleasant not to have to think about every move she made for a short interlude, and it certainly seemed as if Jacob felt the same.

She watched as he ran a finger round the inside of his collar, tugging it away from his neck. ‘This damned shirt. It feels like being throttled.’

There was a mirror on the wall opposite the alcove, and she saw his lips turn down as he caught his dour reflection.

‘I detest what one has to wear to these occasions. Even the most cheerful person’s passing is reduced to a swathe of mournful black. My father’s funeral was no better: a gloomy affair, even though in life he was the soul of every party.’

Meg had been privately reflecting on how his dark suit brought out the blue of his irises, but now her admiration turned to surprise.

‘I didn’t know you’d been here for that. For some reason I assumed the first time you’d been back to Wellbourne House since you left for university was the night we met in the woods.’

Jacob adjusted his cravat. He was looking at the mirror rather than at her, and it was difficult to tell whether that was by necessity or choice. ‘Unfortunately not. I came to pay my respects to my father, but I didn’t stay for long. Too many unhappy memories.’

Uncertain what else to do, Meg busied herself smoothing down the black fabric of her skirts. How should she respond to that? Was she one of those memories? She didn’t know for sure, but when she glanced up again Jacob’s expression helped her find the right words.

‘Everything seems unhappy at the moment. Even now I can see suffering in your eyes.’

At once he snorted, although Meg wasn’t fooled by any attempt to distance himself from what she knew she’d seen. ‘Don’t worry about me. It’s your wellbeing I care about.’

His countenance took on a thoughtful air. ‘A distraction is what we need. Even if only for a minute or two, we ought to try to think of something else other than what’s happening around us.’

‘What kind of distraction?’

Meg’s heart skipped a beat as he turned away from the mirror, directing his full attention to her. ‘I confess I did have one thought…’

‘Which was?’

The step he took towards her was a distinct clue, but she couldn’t help but force him to declare himself more obviously. ‘You can tell me. I’m very open-minded.’

Jacob’s mouth tipped up at one corner. Some trace of the tension he’d been trying to keep from his face remained, but it seemed to have ebbed slightly, now he had something else on his mind, and out of a desire to feel a similar reprieve herself—as well as desire plain and simple—Meg allowed herself to be gathered closer and raise her chin to meet him in a kiss.

There was reassurance in the movement of his lips. It gave her the comfort she craved, grounding her just as she’d been starting to be carried away by doubts. A man who regretted his choice of wife as much as she’d begun to fear wouldn’t have bound her in an embrace so tight she could feel his heart beating beneath his shirt, his body pressing against the full length of hers as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck.

She sighed as he wrapped both hands around the narrow span just below her stays. She could feel the heat of his palms even through the black bombazine of her mourning dress and she let it spread through her.

Her eyes had closed when he had first bent his head towards her and she felt rather than saw him smile, the shape of his lips something she knew as intimately as her own reflection. It was the first time in days she’d known him to do so and she clung on even more, wanting to prolong the moment even as she knew it soon had to come to an end.

If she could have stood in that alcove all afternoon she would have done, letting Jacob do as he wished; but at least one of them had to be sensible, and with great unwillingness she forced herself to take a step back.

‘Stop. We shouldn’t be doing this now.’