Page 64 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Yes.’

‘Marrying Mr Stewart wouldn’t mean you would have to give up your ambitions. I know many men would not want you to continue with passions that might take your focus away from looking after the home and any children you might have, but I don’t think Mr Stewart would be one of them. He seems to be very relaxed. I think he would make a wonderful husband for you.’

‘He doesn’t want to get married. He has his reasons, reasons he thinks are very valid. He isn’t going to move away from his beliefs unless we are forced into it.’

‘Do you think his reasons are valid?’

‘No, at least I do not believe the worst in him, as he does himself.’

‘Oh, Jane, what a mess.’

It was so frustrating, knowing the future was out of her hands. She knew if she looked at things rationally the best thing would be for Mrs Burghley to keep quiet and for Tom and her to move on with their lives. She didn’t want him to be forced to marry her, even if she did want to be with him, and she knew the option she dreamed of, the option where Tom suddenly realised he was deeply in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of their lives married, wasn’t going to happen.

They splashed through some deep puddles, both having to lift their skirts to avoid getting completely soaked. Already the hem of Jane’s dress was wet and grey in colour, soaking up the moisture from the melting snow.

‘There he is,’ Lucy said, pausing as they rounded a corner. ‘Perhaps you should tell him, Jane.’

‘What?’

‘Tell him how you feel about him. Tell him you love him. I wager you haven’t been truthful with him yet.’

Jane thought of the kisses, the surge of emotion that had passed between them. He knew she desired him, that she enjoyed his company, but she had never really let him see the depth of her feeling.

‘It wouldn’t change anything,’ she said quietly. ‘It would only serve to make things more difficult between us.’

They fell silent as Tom spotted them and raised a hand in greeting.

‘Thank you for coming today, Mrs Weyman,’ Tom said, taking her hand and bowing over it. ‘I know it was short notice.’

‘I do not mind at all. In fact, I am intrigued as to the secrecy of where we are going.’

‘Are you well, Miss Ashworth?’ he enquired, sounding as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but Jane knew he was really asking if everything had been calm after his departure from the house that morning.

‘Very well, thank you, Mr Stewart.’

‘I have done something I think you are going to be annoyed about, Miss Ashworth, but I hope with time you will be able to forgive me.’

He was smiling at her, but she could see the earnest expression on his face. She felt a roiling of nerves in her stomach. Tom had sent a note this morning, inviting her for a walk and telling her that there was a new book publisher opening up close to Bond Street. He suggested she bring her manuscript and illustrations so she could see if the publisher would grant her an audience. The heavy packet of papers was tucked under her arm.

‘You’re making me nervous.’

‘There is a shop I am going to take Miss Ashworth into, Mrs Weyman. I know the weather is cold, but I don’t expect us to be more than a few minutes. There is a little shop that serves tea across the road you could wait in. Is that acceptable?’

‘Of course,’ Lucy said, pulling Jane in as Tom stepped away a few paces. ‘Maybe he’s going to buy you a wedding ring.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Jane whispered, hating the trickle of hope that ran through her.

‘Are you ready, Miss Ashworth?’

Jane stepped over and took his proffered arm, looking up at the signs that hung above the shops. It wasn’t a part of London she knew well, but she never had been one to enjoy shopping, tolerating the trips to the modiste with gritted teeth and a book stowed in her bag for the quieter moments.

‘Where are we going?’ Jane murmured as they walked a little way down the street. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy crossing the road and escaping from the cold into the little shop.

‘Did anyone notice anything was amiss this morning?’

‘You left your cravat.’

‘Did someone see?’