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If I’d considered any of this, would I have begged my mama to allow me to travel to Jane’s estate in Scotland instead of saving our reputation with a rushed marriage to a near-stranger? Perhaps then I could at least have had a chance to secure a love match. As it stood now, the ton still believed me to be a woman of lesser morals—only now I had a ring on my finger and their blessing.
“I cannot change the prejudices against us,” James said, and guilt swept over me.
“It is not your responsibility to do so.”
“No, but I could have considered other options.”
My lips formed a tired smile. What did other options matter now? “We are married, James. It is done.”
“What if it isn’t done? Not yet, I mean.”
I straightened. Was he proposing an annulment? I could never do that to my parents, to him.
He took my hand gently in his and turned it over. Sparing me a brief glance, he lowered his attention to my glove and pulled at the fingertips one at a time to loosen the garment before sliding it free of my hand and setting it on a nearby shelf. His skin on mine was a heady, warm feeling. He brushed his thumb over the place where I’d spilled the wax on our first meeting, the skin now pale and healed.
Directing his attention at my hand, he said, “We can still prove your innocence, Felicity. If you do not have a babe or show signs of carrying one in the first six months of our marriage, then all will know that you are as faultless as you claim to be.”
He glanced up and held my gaze.
My breath caught. “Are you implying—”
“Yes. We will not”—he cleared his throat—“be together as man and wife until the six months has passed. We can return to London for the Season next year and your good name will be restored in every way that matters to you.”
It was a sacrifice for him, and I could not believe he was willing to agree to it. Nay, not agree, to suggest it.
“Is that not strange?”
He chuckled softly. “Nothing about us so far has been typical, why would we start now?”
A weight lifted from my chest. “Six months.”
James lifted an eyebrow. “This could be good for us, you know. Perhaps we can spend that time courting.”
Time felt suspended. “You would like to court your wife?”
“I did not have the chance before, so why not now?”
Butterflies flapped about my empty stomach, and my breathing grew shallow—but in an entirely enjoyable way. We were now bound to spend the remainder of our lives together, and this seemed a good way to begin.
“I suppose that would be good. You can, for instance, tell me how many of your family members live at your house, or whether or not you enjoy stargazy pie.”
He laughed, his thumb rubbing lazy circles over my hand. “And you might inform me about whether or not you enjoy riding or playing battledore and shuttlecock.”
I would not disappoint him further this morning by explaining how deeply I disliked both of those activities.
“Six months of courting,” he said again, as though he was warming to the idea, “and six months to prove our innocence.”
“Indeed. Shall we seal our agreement?” I pulled my hand from his grasp and straightened it.
James’s gaze fell to my lips. He swayed forward slightly before seeming to shake himself. “Yes, I think that would be best.” His voice was raspy, and my heart jumped. Had he nearly meant to kiss me?
Surely we would not need to wait the six months for that.
James took my hand and shook it.
“Shall we rejoin our breakfast?” he asked.
With him holding my hand, I believed myself capable of it. I nodded, and he released me in order to retrieve my glove from the shelf. When I tried to take it from him, he shook his head and proceeded to slide it back over my fingers. “I vowed only an hour ago to honor and care for you, Felicity. Allow me to do so.”
I nodded, my throat too thick with emotion to argue that I was capable of putting on my own glove.
Once he finished, he took my hand to lead me back upstairs. I pushed aside my staunched concerns and did my best not to think about the very perfect man beside me, and his brother I would be seeing again in a week’s time. Perhaps James’s brother already knew to expect me as James’s bride and did not care—or perhaps I would soon find myself in an uncomfortable situation.
Regardless, I couldn’t help the hope that grew like vines around my heart. My husband wished to court me.
