“Yes.”
“Darling. Sweet. Julia.” He punctuated each word with a kiss. “I would have married you even though I didn’t have a fortune to offer you. But thank God, now I do.”
What did he mean by that? But she didn’t want to ask him to explain, not wanting him to stop kissing her to do so.
He kissed her a bit longer and then drew back a little. “Are you not curious about my fortune?”
She blinked, trying to clear the fog his kisses had created over her thoughts. “You have a fortune?”
“The Prince Regent, it seems, is very grateful for your help and mine in thwarting the plot against England’s general and military leader. He has requested Parliament and the House of Commons to reward me with the sum of thirty thousand pounds.”
“Did you say thirty thousand pounds?” Her heart leapt in her chest.
“And he has said he hopes to reward you with the same amount. But I did not want to tell you until you promised to marry me. If you knew you had a fortune of your own, you might refuse me.”
Was he making a joke?
“I should think my letter would have made it clear whom I love.” She sat up a little straighter, pulling away from him a bit.
“Indeed it did. Forgive me.” He drew her close again. “I should not tease you, but I tend to tease when I am deliriously happy.”
Julia slid her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I forgive you,” she whispered, unable to suppress a deliriously happy smile of her own.
“We shall go back and tell everyone,” he said, holding her tight, “starting with Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, that we are getting married. I shall put all your things in my carriage, and we shall set off for Glyncove Abbey immediately. I shall have the banns read as soon as possible,” he continued, “and we shall marry at Glyncove Church in four weeks.”
“Oh dear.” Julia’s heart sank.
“What is it?”
“What about Phoebe? She must hate me. What will she say when she hears we are to be married?”
“I do not think you have to worry about that.”
“How can you say that? Don’t you know how in love with you she is?”
“Not anymore. She is engaged to be married, I just learned, before I came to Donnerly Hall to find you.”
“To be married? To whom?”
“To Daniel Dinklage.”
“Oh.” Julia tried to imagine the two of them together. After all that Phoebe had said about him not being handsome enough for Julia. “How strange.”
“It seems that Phoebe made an impression on Mr. Dinklage when they met in Bath several weeks ago. Once they were both back in London, Mr. Dinklage visited Phoebe during her distress over her father’s flight from England and the accusations of his traitorous spying. Very few people did visit her, I would imagine. Dinklage’s mother died a few months ago, and he was consequently free to marry whomever he wished.”
“Oh. That is . . . good.” Phoebe would have someone to take care of her, and perhaps she had come to love him. Stranger matches were made every day. “Truthfully, I am very glad to hear that. It is very good news, is it not?” And if Phoebe was contented in her marriage, perhaps she would be able to forgive Julia . . . someday.
“It is good news. And I have been given a release from my commission in the army and will be taking a position at the War Office.”
“So you will be able to stay in London?” Her heart soared. He would not be sent back to the Peninsula to fight in the war!
“Yes. And you and I shall oversee a new project I have proposed to Wilson. We shall begin some money-making industries for the women in the East Side . . .”
Julia listened and nodded to all that he had to say, thinking how handsome he was, how warm and beautiful his eyes were, how perfect his lips looked, how good his kisses felt . . . How frivolous she was to be thinking such thoughts when he was talking of the children and their needs.
“I think that is wonderful,” Julia said. “You and Mr. Wilson will do many great things in the East Side, I have no doubt.”
He pressed his palm against her cheek, leaned forward, and covered her mouth with his.
Julia caressed his stubbly jaw with her fingertips. She was enveloped in a cloak of safety and warmth, as she stopped thinking and focused her attention on kissing him back.
At Donnerly Hall, Nicholas and Smith quickly collected his things. They transferred Julia’s trunks from the Athertons’ carriage to Nicholas’s own, without seeing anyone except the servants. The rest of the house was still asleep after the late-night ball, so Nicholas quickly scribbled a note for his hostess, Mrs. Atherton, and left it with the butler, explaining that he and Julia were to be married and were off to Glyncove Abbey in Lincolnshire to stay with his family until the wedding.
When he and Julia entered the carriage again, he carried his portfolio.