“Here comes your bride.” Eddington flashed a grin at James over his plate of eggs and kippers.
James pushed his food around his own plate, glancing up at Cecilia as she entered the dining room before his eyes darted to the other guests enjoying their breakfast. “Yes, there she is.”
She smiled at him, her eyes lingering on his face just a little bit longer than was strictly necessary. James managed a smile in return, but if it looked as sincere as it felt then he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“You should be over the moon,” Eddington continued. “You came here to find a solution to your problem and you did. Your father’s name will remain unblemished and the farm will remain in Fitzsimmons hands.”
“I am very relieved about that. More so than even you might realize.”
“So why don’t you look it?” Eddington leaned over his plate and lowered his voice. “Is it because help came from a woman? Or because help came from that woman?”
James put his fork down and picked up a piece of toast, contemplating the golden brown triangle. “I wasn’t expecting to confront a seventeen-year-old heartbreak during my stay...or ever, really. And everything has happened so fast I’ve barely had time to comprehend it all.”
He’d rehashed his past with Cecilia the previous night in the privacy of Eddy’s bedchamber—how they’d courted for nearly six months, how deeply in love James had fallen, how he thought that Cecilia had felt the same way about him but walked away from the relationship when he asked for her hand. Eddington had been there for it all, his bachelor apartments just a floor above James’s when they were both in Town, but saying it aloud had felt necessary.
It all seemed so long ago, but was suddenly very relevant once more.
Cecilia appeared at the table with her plate and took the empty chair beside James. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Her voice was cheerful and her blue eyes sparkled in the morning sun shining through the window. James wondered if she really was that merry or if she was just a fine actress.
Eddington responded first. “Good morning, my lady. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, actually. It took me a little while to settle down for the night, but once I did I slept like a top. How was your night, Mr. Fitzsimmons?”
“Eventful.”
“Hmm, is that good or bad?”
He put the toast back on his plate, maintaining eye contact with it rather than her. “More good than bad.” Finally he raised his eyes from his plate—after all, if she was going to be his wife, he ought to be able to look her in the eye. “And there’s still a lot to be done.”
“Yes there is. Can you meet me this afternoon? We can settle a number of things today.”
“That will remove some of the weight from my mind.”
“Good.”
She reached over to touch the back of his hand but he reflexively pulled away. “Where and when shall I meet you?”
A hurt expression flickered over her face, but vanished quickly. Was she over the disappointment so swiftly or was she merely hiding it? James suddenly wished he knew.
“I’ll be in Phillip’s study all afternoon.” Her lips curved into a smile and she leaned a little closer. “The ladies are embroidering this afternoon, so I plan to make myself scarce.”
“Don’t you like embroidery?” Eddington asked.
“I do, but not when there are other things that require my attention.” She reached for him again, this time touching his sleeve instead of his skin. “Besides, the ladies here will spend the day talking about the upcoming Season while their fingers stitch, and gossip about who is looking for a spouse. I have no need of that kind of conversation.”
She rose from the table, her plate of food still untouched, and nodded to them both before disappearing through the door.
Eddington fixed a sharp eye on James. “What was that all about?”
“I’m meeting Lady Cecilia this afternoon. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“I was. Were you?”
“What do you mean?”
Eddington glanced around the room, which was empty now of all but a footman. “Aren’t the people here supposed to think that you and Lady Cecilia are falling in love?”
“Yes.”
“Then either your idea of love is skewed or you’re a dreadful actor.”
James considered that for a moment. “I know what love is. Or I did, once. I suppose I need to figure out how to show it when I don’t feel it.”
“Or learn to feel it.”
“What?”
Eddington smiled. “Would it be so terrible to be in love with your wife?”
“In general, no. But when my wife previously decided she couldn’t be married to me because I wasn’t aristocratic enough, it’s a bit harder to fall in love with her again.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
James arched an eyebrow.
“Maybe you can summon some of what you felt for Lady Cecilia when you were younger. You don’t actually have to love her, just remember how you felt when you did.”
“Before or after she left me?”
Eddington sighed. “Before, of course. I remember what you were like when she refused you—possibly better than you do, given how muddled your head was then. But if you focus on the good times you two had together, you might be able to bring some of that joy into your actions now.”
James thought about that for a few moments. “It makes sense...if I can ignore the way we parted.”
“Can you do that?”
“I can certainly try. And I don’t have any better ideas.”
James went back to his breakfast with a little more enthusiasm. If he could simply remember how it felt to be in love with Cecilia—truly in love with her—this outlandish plan might actually work.
~*~
Cecilia sat at Phillip’s large desk in the room he used as both his study and library, writing yet another letter in anticipation of her marriage. She’d already completed letters to her solicitor, her niece’s husband, her housekeeper in London, and the Earl of Grimsby.
This letter she’d left for last, hoping inspiration would strike and writing it would be easy. It was for her brother and his duchess explaining why, after years of happy spinsterhood, she was rushing to marry a farmer. She didn’t need Alston’s permission, but she knew it would hurt him to learn of his only sister’s marriage over tea with the neighbors.
“I’d be there to tell you in person if there was time,” she said aloud.
“Perhaps we can visit when the dust has settled, so to speak.”
Cecilia’s eyes snapped to the doorway where James was standing, looking very confident and handsome in sharp contrast to his bearing at the breakfast table. “Would you like that?” she asked.
He entered the room and approached the desk but did not sit. “Probably as much as you would enjoy visiting my family.”
“Actually, I think I should like to meet them and see the farm.” She wondered briefly if that was true or if she was merely being contrary. “I certainly heard enough about both when we were courting.”
His lips curved into a smile sincere enough to produce the infamous dimple. “I did go on about home a bit too much back then, didn’t I? But I would be delighted to show it to you, and to visit His Grace when the time comes.”
“I will add it to my list of correspondence.”
James finally seated himself in one of the upholstered armchairs Phillip kept in front of the desk for visitors. “Is the list long?”
“Longer than I’d at first expected. It turns out there’s more to arranging a wedding than finding a vicar and speaking vows.”
“Can I help?”
Cecilia allowed herself a smile at that. The tone of his voice was one part polite helpfulness and one part hurt male pride. Now that he was resigned to their impending marriage, she suspected he wanted to take the lead.
“Yes, actually. You can start working on the terms of our settlement. I’m asking my solicitor to draw up an agreement that will include three thousand pounds for the farm loan and a clause specifying that the bulk of my estate will remain in my name, under my administration. I’ve also made provisions for any children we may have—”
He drew in a quick breath and tried to cover it with a cough. “Is that...a possibility?”
“It’s a fairly standard clause in a marriage settlement.”
“But how likely is it that we would have children?”
“If you’re asking if I’m too old to bear children, the answer is no, not yet. If you want to know if I’ll be sharing your bed...” She felt warmth unaccountably rise in her cheeks. Since when did talk of a little physicality embarrass her? It wasn’t as though they hadn’t been intimate before. “I haven’t discounted the possibility. We will be married, after all.”
James was silent for a long moment before speaking quietly. “Would you like to have children?”
She didn’t answer right away, rising and walking around the desk as she considered. Did she want children? “I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve been a single woman so long I haven’t thought about becoming a mother in years.” Coming to a stop in front of James, she leaned against the desk and reached for his hand, hoping for a better reaction than the one she got that morning. “What about you?”
He flinched when she touched him, but recovered quickly this time and clasped her hand in his. “I do. Though I wouldn’t be devastated if it never happened. I have a nephew to dote on, and he’ll inherit the farm one day. There will be other nieces and nephews that come along, too, I’m sure.”
Before Cecilia realized what she was doing, she pulled James to his feet. “We agreed to tell my family we married for love, didn’t we?”
She reached out and took his other hand, lacing their fingers together. “Then you need to appear as if you enjoy touching me.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Do I not?”
“You didn’t at breakfast.”
“I used to.”
She took a step closer, breathing in the scent of his shaving soap and skin. No cologne for James Fitzsimmons—that hadn’t changed over the years. “Then let’s see if we can bring some of that pleasure back. Or at least help us get at ease with each other again.”
She released both his hands and he gave her a quizzical look in return. “What now?”
“Just touch me.”
He remained still for several seconds, his eyes trained on hers. Then he slid his arms around her and drew her gently against him, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his breathing quickened. “It’s like the first swim of the summer, when the water’s still chilly. If you jump in all at once, it’s uncomfortable for a minute but you get used to it pretty quickly.”
“That’s one way to do it,” she smiled, sliding her hands up his arms and resting them on his shoulders. Her heart was pounding and she was sure he could feel it, but she carried on as though she held her former lover every day. “Will you tell me about your nephew?”
“He’s my sister’s son, ten years old come April. Very intelligent—he’s already reading up on the latest farming techniques to help increase our crop production.”
She felt James’s arms relaxing, his hand splayed across her back. “Do you think he’d like to go to away school? Or to university when he’s older? We could set aside some money for his education.”
“You don’t have to do that. He may very well want to receive a formal education, but his father might not like you paying for it, particularly under the circumstances.”
“Maybe we can make it a gift, then, if his parents approve.” Cecilia felt his breaths begin to lengthen and slow, though his heart was pounding as hard as hers.
He bowed his head and murmured in her ear, “A gift from his Aunt Cecilia? That might be better received.”
A little sigh escaped her as she tightened her arms around him, combing her fingers through his hair. When he spoke to her like that it was almost as if they’d never parted. “Then that’s how we’ll do it. Is there anything you want in the marriage settlement?”
“The only thing I want right now is to kiss you.”
Wait, where did that come from? Had Mr. Eddington said something to James after she’d left the table at breakfast? Or was James daring her to take their pretence further? Either way, it felt good to be in his arms again even if it was a little different this time.
And she dearly wanted to kiss him. “Then do it.”
His hand released her back to stroke her cheek as his lips found hers. It was a soft kiss at first and tentative, while they each relearned the contours of the other. Then the familiarity flooded back and Cecilia opened her mouth over his, deepening the kiss the way she knew he liked. He reciprocated, wrapping his arm about her once more and squeezing her bottom.
She broke away laughing. “Well, I supposed we’re used to each other again.”
He leaned in and captured her lips once more. “I’d forgotten how well we did that.”
“You’d forgotten?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Made myself forget. There was no use dwelling on something I could no longer have.”
“Except now you can have it.” She pulled him down to her and gave him one more languid kiss.
This time he broke away with a smile. “Then we might not have to make a decision about having children—it might be made for us.”
“We’ll see,” was all she said, but her mind was whirling. She’d offered him the chance to live separate lives after their troubles were settled, but conceiving a child would change all of that.
Or would it?
“Do you think your family will believe we’re marrying for love?” he asked in a low voice.
“Think of these kisses every time you look at me, every time you touch me, and no one will ever believe otherwise.”
He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Then that’s one thing we no longer have to worry about. Shall we get your letters finished up?”
He released her and dropped back into his chair. The distance between them felt strange after being pressed against each other, but she rounded the desk and took up her pen as she resumed her seat.
“Is there anything you want in the marriage settlement, James?”
His body sagged, as if the air had been let out of him. “No. Have your solicitor draw up whatever document you think is best, and I’ll sign it. I only want to keep my farm and my family safe.”