The steam rising from the rim waited for her lips, not his. She wanted to kiss him, no matter their audience.
But more remained unfinished.
“What else is there, Lord Preston,” she asked.
“My brother died without a will butwitha considerable amount of wealth. He was good with cards and investments. As his closest remaining relative, I have been charged with seeing to his fortune. The bulk of it I’ve used to create inheritances for my wards, his children, but the remainder I have decided to divide amongst his—ahem—wives. For lack of a better term.”
It could not be a trick… could it? Who would do such a thing?
The man sitting before her, apparently, whose wife sat near and gave him strength, who had adopted his brother’s children.
“I feel guilty,” he said. “I know I am not responsible for my brother’s actions, but I did little to tame him except disapprove. We did not even know he’d married. Any of the times. The first woman died shortly after his trial. That leaves you and a Miss Haymore to split a considerable sum.”
Gwendolyn took a few breaths, hand over her heart to press it into submission, then shook her heard. “No. I do not need it. I have done good work for good wages the last six years, and I have a home and a family, and I have need of nothing. Please donate it or give it all to Miss Haymore. Or, if one of his children is a girl, turn it into an inheritance with no marriage stipulations so that she may live as she chooses when she grows up.”
The marquess and marchioness nodded, mouths grim lines and eyes pools of sorrow.
“I hope,” Evelina said, “that should we pass in the street, we can meet as friends. I know you may not wish—”
“Yes.” Gwendolyn clasped her hands and nodded. “Yes, I would like to meet as friends.”
“It will not pain you?” the marquess asked.
“No. I have been working diligently to become mistress of the ills my past served me, and today you have both helped me.” She slipped her hand around the cup Jackson held, brushing her fingers against his and lifted it to her mouth. She took a long, slow swallow of the steamy stuff, just right, and let it settle and warm her. Then she set it down and stood, Jackson bouncing to his feet with her. “Thank you so much for your kindness. I hope we do meet again.”
The marquess and marchioness stood arm in arm and walked them to the door where they said their goodbyes and stepped into the sunny day. Sunny? She laughed. Less than an hour ago, the clouds had been threatening snow. Now, the birds called to one another, sweet songs in the bright winter air.
A low, long inhale of breath at her side. “Jove, Gwenny. This is… How do you feel about it all?”
She laughed. “An excellent question. Right now, I seem to be feeling so many emotions at once, I cannot even begin to categorize and identify them all.”
Daniel dead. And his family… a complete delight, as hurt by his actions as she had been. Like her, they could not outrun the past, not even with Daniel’s death. Yet it did not oppress them. She’d felt nothing but lightness from them. No doubt the children were better off with them than they would have been with Daniel, who’d only ever cared for himself.
How did she feel?
The past had died. Quite literally. Nothing left but sour memories and people glad and eager to do better, to form a better world than had existed before.
She felt like rusty metal. A rusty old key in a rusty lock long forgotten. Rusty metal hinges squeaking open as something inside of her unlocked. She could step free now. Free from a rusty, forgotten room into a palace filled with other people, into a banquet whereeveryonesat waiting for her. And at the head of that table—Jackson.
He’d been waiting for her longer than anyone, after all. And the Cavendishes. Because they wanted her to leave that rusty room too. Even Daniel’s family welcomed her into life and light.
And the sun and birds and crisp winter air sang her a welcome.
“What shall we do now?” Jackson asked, linking his arm through hers and pulling her across the street and into the great, teeming stream of London life. With his other arm, he reached into a pocket and pulled out his watch, beaten but gleaming still. He flipped it open. “We may have time to—”
“Get married?” She grinned up at him, at the man who held her heart in gentle hands, and the man she’d loved even when she’d thought she could not have him.
A slow smile spread over his face. “Yes. I’d say there’s time for that.” He clicked the watch closed. “Is that a proposal?”
She nodded. “Marry me?”
He pulled a special license from his pocket. They’d been saving it for just the right time. “I assume you mean today…?”
She pulled him down for a kiss that crushed all doubt. “Today and every day,” she breathed against his lips.
He thread their hands together, and they ran, laughing, into the sunlight. No longer her five steps ahead in flight, but their strides in perfect sync, their hearts side by side.
Epilogue
