It felt so odd to have another person inside her. Odd, and slightly uncomfortable, and entirely erotic.
He began to move, stroking in and out of her, one hand wrapped around her body, the other gripping her head.
His breathing was faster and she could feel his muscles flexing as he moved. She wished she could see what he was doing—perhaps, if this were to continue, she could think about hanging a mirror on her ceiling.
But it wouldn’t continue.
This was it—this was all she could expect from him. Because tomorrow he would likely go get himself engaged to a young lady who could afford him.
She wished she could tell him how she felt, tell him she’d done what she’d promised not to—fallen in love.
But she couldn’t put that burden on him. They both knew what he had to do, and it wasn’t be with her.
She cast those thoughts aside and concentrated on what was happening here and now: him, thrusting into her in an inexorable rhythm. Their skin touching, the sound of their intercourse an erotic accompaniment to the movement.
She held on to his body as he increased his pace, feeling his muscles clench everywhere as he moved. It was erotic to feel that, even, to know all of him was entirely engaged with what they were doing.
And then he buried his face in her neck as he kept thrusting, faster and faster as she held on, knowing she would be sore but also knowing it would be well worth it. The memories would have to sustain her for the rest of her life, after all.
And then he tilted his head back, his eyes closed in concentration, his jaw tight, and then he gave an animalistic yell as he withdrew, spilling onto her belly.
He immediately collapsed to one side of her, his breathing rapid, his nose pressed into her shoulder.
“Mmmph,” he groaned after a few minutes. She already ached with wanting him inside again. It just felt so right, she never wanted it to stop.
But of course it had to.
She stroked his back, sliding her palm over his skin.
He began to bestow gentle kisses on her neck as he murmured inarticulate noises against her skin.
It felt so perfect. So right. This was what she wanted for her future.
And this was absolutely what she could not have.
She bit her lip, unable to push aside the feelings of loss, despite his being right here.
Because tomorrow would be here in a few hours, and all of this would be over.
Thomas left Jane’s room right before dawn, creeping down the hallway as he could, holding his evening shoes in one hand as the other held on to his jacket.
He hadn’t allowed himself to sleep, not when he could be enjoying his time with her.
Or counting the minutes they had left together, which was the exact opposite of enjoying his time.
She’d murmured sleepily when he was finally able to get up, and he’d spent a few more precious minutes kissing her, holding her warm, relaxed body that had welcomed him a few hours before.
His throat tightened as he thought about the future. His future.
It seemed clear that he had his choice between Miss Porter and Miss Grosvenor. Lady Emily and her entourage preferred the former, while it seemed the Grosvenors—and likely Alice—preferred the latter.
He’d check with Alice before going to pay a call to Miss Grosvenor.
But at the very least, his—and by extension his family’s—problems would be on their way to being solved by that afternoon.
Of course he needed to bathe and dress in something other than last night’s evening wear. That would delay the inevitable. And then there was fetching Alice, and making certain she was fed, and comfortable, and they’d planned on when she would return to their parents’ house. More delaying tactics.
But the thing about the inevitable was that no matter how much you tried to delay it, you couldn’t. Because it was . . . inevitable.
He swung the front door open, closing it softly behind him. Closing his heart, too.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, and there were a few carts carrying foodstuffs clattering by, but the streets were mostly empty.
It was unusual to walk through a quiet London—only the noise of the occasional cart, a few workers walking blearily to their jobs, stray cats darting out of the way as Thomas approached.
It left him alone with his thoughts, which was both good and bad.
He wouldn’t be alone for long, though—soon he’d have a wife, responsibilities, his family to care for as well as her family to accommodate.
He gave a rueful smile as he realized this might be the last time he was truly by himself, at least for the foreseeable future.
And here he was, walking home to clean up after spending the night with the woman he loved in order to propose to a woman he didn’t love.
What did that make him?
He heard the voices of the people in his life assuring him he was doing the right thing.
But could he reconcile himself to marrying someone purely for their money?
Before, when he’d been just a charming dilettante, it had seemed the logical thing to do. But now he knew—thanks to her—that he was more than that. He’d fallen in love with her, too. She’d shown him what it was to make a choice about one’s life. How important it was, how it was the only thing one had control over.
Though if he made the wrong choice . . . it wouldn’t be just him who would suffer. It would be everyone and anyone he loved.
Goddamn it.
“Ah, Miss Sharpe, Mr. Sharpe!” Mr. Grosvenor’s booming voice echoed through the hallway. He seemed to have been waiting, emerging just as the butler opened the door when Thomas rang. Alice had talked of nothing but her new friend on the ride over, and was already bouncing on her toes, ready to find Miss Grosvenor.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grosvenor,” Thomas said. “I am—”
“Alice!” Miss Grosvenor exclaimed as she ran into the hallway. “I was just making sure Cook set out my favorite lemon tea cakes. Come with me, please,” she said, extending a hand to Alice, who took it, barely glancing back at Thomas.
“Come into my study—I will ring for some sherry,” Mr. Grosvenor said after they had left.
“I will fetch some, sir,” the butler said.
“Oh yes, thank you, Parker.” Mr. Grosvenor gestured to Thomas. “This way, Mr. Sharpe.”
Mr. Grosvenor’s study appeared to be used for much more than studying—there was an enormous desk piled with paperwork, while many of the chairs held boxes of even more papers. He frowned as he removed boxes from a few chairs, drawing one particularly massive one toward his desk. “There,” he said, pointing. “You can sit there.”
Thomas sat, folding one leg over the other.
Mr. Grosvenor pushed a few of the piles of papers to the side, giving Thomas a clear view of his face across the table. “So you’re here to ask to marry my daughter.” He didn’t pose it as a question.
Thomas took a deep breath as he answered.
“No.”
Jane woke later than usual and sorer than usual.
She gave a sleepy smile as she patted the bed beside her, then opened her eyes to confirm what she’d felt—or hadn’t felt.
He had left already.
Her heart clenched in her chest, and she sat up swiftly, the sheet falling away from her body.
She’d slept naked, something she had never done before.
As well as doing other things she’d never done before.
Yet she didn’t feel that different from the day before—she was still Jane, still determined to chart her own course in the world. Still in love with him, even though she still recognized she could not be with him, not without doing harm to him and his family, and she would not do that.
The whole experience had been wonderful, had been revelatory, but it had not irrevocably changed her life.
She had taken care of that herself two years ago, when she’d refused to follow what her mother wanted. And then taken care of it again when she’d entered into her agreement with him. She was in charge, no matter who she took to her bed and who she loved.
So her heart hurt now, and would hurt more when she heard of his engagement. But it would not wreck her.
She took a deep breath as she got out of bed, glancing down as something caught her eye.
A small stain of blood on the sheets, proof that what had happened had indeed happened.
It was a good thing, she thought wryly, that their household staff was small enough that her stripping her own bed wouldn’t be a momentous occurrence.
Half an hour later, her bed was stripped and in the wash, and she was clothed, sitting down to breakfast, a bleary Percy sitting perpendicular to her, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Jane asked, then immediately flushed as she realized he might ask her the same thing, and she had no idea how to respond.
Though yes, she did have a good time. To put it mildly.
Percy nodded, staring into his cup. “It was successful. And then Daffy and I went out afterward, and—”
“And?” Jane prompted, as he hesitated.
Percy lifted his gaze to meet Jane’s. And then a sweet smile began to spread over his face, and Jane couldn’t help but smile in return.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Daffy if he wants to come to live with us for a while.” Percy’s cheeks were bright red. Jane reached out to pat his hand, then took it in hers. “Forever, if I’m being honest.” He smiled. “And we’re going to get a dog.”
Jane took a deep, swelling breath, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. “I am so happy for you,” she said. “Of course I will welcome Daffy here. We have plenty of room, though we might have to hire more staff,” she added, thinking of the bed-stripping incident from that morning.
Percy gave an absentminded nod. “Yes, of course.” And then his eyes narrowed. “But what about you? I saw you speaking with many of the ladies last evening, presumably letting them know that Thomas is devoted and loyal.” Jane began to sigh in relief, until he followed that up with, “The only problem is that he is devoted and loyal to you.”
“Uh—?” Jane said, feeling herself stiffen all over.
Percy rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious you’ve fallen in love with him. And him with you.” He shook his head as though it was entirely obvious and he was annoyed at her obliviousness.
“He’s not in love with me,” Jane replied, not addressing the other part.
Percy gave an audible harrumph, and shot her a look of disbelief. “We both know it’s true, so what are you going to do about it?”
Did she know it was true? He hadn’t said anything, but—but perhaps he didn’t have to. The way he’d opened up to her, the way he’d taken care of how she felt and what she wanted—perhaps he was just being a good friend, but she strongly suspected there was more to it than that.
“Goddamn it, he has fallen in love with me,” she muttered. “And me with him.”
Percy slapped his palm down on the table, making her jump. “Yes! So what are you going to do about it?”
Jane shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do about it. He has to marry to save his family—”
“No,” Percy interrupted. “Just think for a minute—don’t accept what everyone thinks should or will happen.”
Jane gave a wan smile. “I know I’ve been bolder lately, but I’m not so bold that I will jeopardize a person’s family just because I love them.”
Percy slapped the table again. This time, Jane glared at him. “The two of you are smart and capable. I am certain if you talk about it you can come up with a solution.”
Jane began to shrug, then froze as her mind raced. “They need money. Do you know how much?” she asked.
Percy shook his head. “I can only guess that it’s more than what we have between us and less than what our brother-in-law the duke has.”
Jane felt a glimmer of hope begin to kindle within her. “Thaddeus. Would he—do you think?” she began.
Percy slapped his hand on the table again.
“You really need to stop doing that,” Jane said in irritation.
“He would. If Thomas would accept it.”
Jane’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if he would accept.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “Really? If it meant he could be with the woman he loves rather than the woman who can afford him? Is he a debutante whose only job is to marry well?” He emphasized the last sentence so pointedly it was impossible to miss.
Jane held her hand up. “He should have a choice. Just like the choice I made for myself.”
“That you took,” Percy said in a proud tone.
“But he is likely on his way to wherever he is going right now. It is probably too late,” she continued.
She glanced at the clock, her heart beating faster. “I’d have to go to Thaddeus and Lavinia’s house, speak to Thaddeus if he is there, and then find out where Thomas is.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Why couldn’t you have thought of this sooner?”
Another table slap. “Because I didn’t know you two were in love! But I saw Thomas sneaking down the hallway this morning—”
“You saw him?” Jane interrupted, her voice squeaking.
Percy gave her an exasperated look. “I just said I did, didn’t I? And then I started to think about it, and if it would make you happy—”
“It would.”
It would. It would make her joyous. She didn’t need it to be happy, she would manage on her own, she knew that, but if she could have him in her life? It would be much easier.
“Then I think you should do whatever you can to make it reality.” His expression grew thoughtful. “You don’t have to go to see Thaddeus first. I am certain he’ll help. Especially when Lavinia understands what it might mean to you.”
“But the Sharpes, would they—?”
Percy shrugged. “Does it matter? They were willing to sell their son off in marriage. Like so many debutantes, I might add. If they have scruples about accepting a gift from a very wealthy duke then they might not deserve to be helped.”
“That’s harsh,” Jane remarked.
“Harsh but true,” Percy retorted.
Jane rose, smoothing her gown in a nervous gesture. “I suppose I’ll have to go find him, then.”
Percy stood also, reaching across the table to enfold Jane in a warm hug. “That’s right. You go find your gentleman and tell him what he needs to hear.”
Jane felt her eyes begin to tear, and she squeezed Percy. “Thank you.”
Percy withdrew from the embrace, wiping his own eyes. “Hurry up—you don’t want him to get engaged before you can find him.”
Jane half laughed, half cried in response. “No. No, I don’t.”