They waited two breaths, three, and then—bong, bong, bong—the clock struck twelve. With the clock’s final exclamation, George and Jane pushed the door open together. A chorus of cheers erupted around them as the guests threw open every door and window in the house, and George kissed Jane soundly.
To Jane, the cheers were for her and George, not for the new year greeting them like a cold wind to the face. Not a bad cold wind, one that slices through your clothes and leaves you begging for a warm fire. No. It was a bracing one that gave life, the same liberating cold that had surrounded them the morning George had first kissed her in the garden.
Jane put it to memory, then pushed softly away. “You should not kiss a lady so if you do not intend to marry her.”
“But I do intend to marry you, Jane.”
“You’re joking.” She stepped out of the circle of his arms. “You do not mean that, George. It is merely the elation of the moment.” He’d so adamantly refused that they could be together. He could not have changed his mind so thoroughly, so quickly.
He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. “I thought being without you was the best way to keep you safe and to control my own fears. Tight control of every aspect of my life has always been the only way I could convince myself I would not follow in my uncle’s footsteps. I am as scared of losing control—of myself, of others—as I am of Neville hurting you.”
He scratched the back of his neck and looked rather sheepish, with a red tint to his cheeks she could barely see in the midnight shadows. “And I begin to think it is rather unfair for me to put the burden of my happiness on my uncle's recovery. That cannot be helpful to him. And it is certainly not helpful to me. I have asked Martha to watch after Neville for a bit.”
His hand loosened his hold on hers and he let go, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his gaze outside, into the darkness. “Since I came of age, I have had complete care of him. Martha has requested many times to take some of the responsibility on her own shoulders. I have not let her. But I begin to think I must do so. Or break. I cannot control everything and everyone. I can only control my own happiness, and you are a part of that happiness, Jane.
“My heart is as open to you as that door right there. And it cannot do without you. I asked you once to trust me, and miraculously, you did. Now I must trust you, trust that you are strong enough and brave and wise enough to help me through whatever dangers we encounter together. I do not wish to wait to join our lives together.”
She untangled his arms and re-tangled their fingers. “I would still marry you if Neville lived with you. But I am glad that you are allowing yourself to breathe a bit. Not even shoulders as strong as yours can carry that much weight around for so long.”
George slipped from her grasp and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, then strode through the open front door, tugging Jane with him.
She almost stumbled but used his strength to right herself. “What are you doing? Where are we going?”
He strode toward a coach waiting in front of the house, picked her up by the waist, and deposited her inside.
He joined her, settling onto the seat next to her. “We’re off to be married. Today.” He patted his chest, wearing a sly grin. “I’ve a special license.”
She stopped her perusal of the coach and stared at him as if he’d caught fire. “Marry? Now?”
“You are looking damned lovely. I do not see why we should wait. I’ve moved you this way and that over the matter. ‘Marry me Jane,’ I said. ‘Be brave,’ I said. Then I lost all bravery. ‘We can’t Jane,’ I said. ‘It’s not wise.’ You must be very dizzy. And I would not blame you at all if you were more than a little exasperated with me.”
The corner of her mouth perked upward. “I cannot deny. Exasperation has been a constant companion of late. I’d rather you have been my companion.”
“Then you’ll marry me?”
She grinned. “I might as well, Sir George.”
He pulled her into his arms and off her feet. “Into the carriage with you!”
She shook her head. “But not right now, George. Do be slow. I’d like Lillian there. And your sister. And Edmund and Katherine.” And even Papa and Christiana.
George plopped her back onto her feet. He scratched his chin. “Eddy would be deuced upset if he wasn’t there. Might faint in a fit of the vapors.”
“Precisely. Twelfth night, then.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Marry me on Twelfth Night. It’s only appropriate. Christmas morning, New Year’s Eve. Both have proven quite significant for us. We might as well make the entire season ours, from beginning to end.”
He leaned down until the tip of his nose touched hers. “Excellent idea, my Jane.”
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Ack!” She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as he swept her off her feet and into the waiting coach. “Are we going somewhere? We decided on—”
“We’re going to my house. The night has too many hours in which to be lonely, and I have several ideas of how to make them better.”
“I won’t have you feeling lonely, Sir George. Do you think”—she pressed her face to the cravat wrapping his neck in warmth—“we might revisit the contents of my letter?”
George pulled her closer and lifted her chin with his thumb, covering her lips with a kiss full of promises and love. “No reason to wait, I should think.” He pulled away and pounded on the roof, and the coach jolted forward into the night, into the new year, and into their future together.
Epilogue
Jane shivered and pulled her red cloak tighter. Good thing she’d brought her stout boots and worn a pair of trousers beneath her skirts. She inhaled the fragrance of winter roses in the garden, closed her eyes, and listened to the chatter of family all around, enjoying the perfection of a sunny day after a night’s unexpected snowfall.
