Well, it was daybreak. The streaks of pink through the foggy gray meant Sunday morning was here. And they would definitely welcome some good news. Otherwise tomorrow would be their last day together until she saved enough to set him free.
She glanced at the trio of rubies lying next to her on the window cushion. Anthony was only willing to sell them as a last resort, and this definitely qualified. First thing Monday morning, if all hope was gone, she would force him to go straight to the pawnbroker. She would beg her mother to sell all her jewels as well. Charlotte would march to the closest barber and have him shave her cursed gold locks to make into a wig, if it would help.
Anything. Everything. She couldn’t lose Anthony.
She loved him.
With a little moan, she leaned her head against the cold window. How had it come to this? If she lost him tomorrow, her life would still be a hundred times better than it had been a mere fortnight ago before she had met him. Her relationship with her mother had never been better. Charlotte even had a purpose now. A trade. Society women who complimented her and pleaded for her company. It should all feel like a dream come true.
And yet none of it would matter if she didn’t have Anthony to share it with.
She lifted her head from the window as she heard wheels outside. Her smile fell. Not Anthony. This was a fancy coach-and-four with a crest on the side, not a humble hackney cab.
Yet when the carriage stopped, who should alight but her husband? Her heart leaped at the sight. She scrambled off of the window cushion and ran to the front door to welcome him home.
He didn’t look up as he neared the door. Her excitement dimmed. His shoulders were hunched and his feet dragged with every step.
He didn’t look like he bore good tidings. He looked exhausted.
When he saw her waiting in the open doorway, however, his tired green eyes lit with pleasure. He jogged the final steps up the walkway and swung her into his arms.
“We did it,” he murmured into her hair. “We did it, darling. In a year, we’ll be free.”
She gripped his arms. “Did what? How?”
He settled her on one of the few chairs and pulled another close to sit across from her. He ran a hand through his hair and fell into his seat. His countenance was tired, but happy.
“I was at the Duke of Lambley’s,” he began.
Her breath caught in sudden understanding. “The fancy carriage!”
He nodded as he loosened his cravat. “I’ve accepted a position.”
She frowned in confusion. “The duke is your employer?”
“I’m to be his night butler on the evenings in which he holds his masked soirées.”
“His…what?” she asked faintly.
“Lambley has agreed to settle my outstanding debts in exchange for a year of employment.”
Joyous disbelief rushed through her veins.
“It will not be easy. I cannot skip a single shift and, while I am working, I cannot miss a single detail. If I do not perform to the letter of the contract, Lambley has the right to remand me to debtors’ prison at once.” He leaned forward to take her hands in his. “I’ll understand if trusting me to be responsible for that long is too much of a risk for you to take. I don’t want to annul this marriage because I don’t want to lose you. But I also cannot ask you to spend an entire year suffering the same uncertainty as you have over the last two weeks.”
“But what has happened?” she asked, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve just come from the Cloven Hoof. Lambley went with me after his masquerade to make good on his promise. I’m not going to Marshalsea. Not today, anyway. I’m not going anywhere, except to work when he summons me and then straight home to you. One year from today, I’ll be truly free.”
Her spine went weak. She wouldn’t lose him on Monday after all. They had been granted a reprieve. Yet he could not promise not to fall prey to his gambling weakness again. What if they found themselves back in the same circumstances once more?
A pragmatic woman would take the annulment. A year of uncertainty would not be easy. But she was no longer powerless. She was in love. Her place was by his side, now and forever. She threw herself into his arms and held on tight. She would cherish each day as if it were their last.
He covered her face with kisses.
She grinned up at him happily. “What kind of schedule must you keep? Will it be difficult?”
He pulled a face. “There’s no schedule. When Lambley decides to host a party, I must man the door and the books. Perhaps every week during the Season, and every month when London is less crowded.” He pressed her hands in his. “I need you to understand something important. This is not…it’s not a respectable job. What standing I once had in Society will be lost by this afternoon’s scandal broth. Rumors of my scandalous new employment will be common knowledge by morning.” His eyes were haunted. “I know how badly you want to be accepted by Society, but from this point forward, any association with me will worsen your reputation, rather than aid it.”
She stilled and let his words wash through her. The idea of being respected was still so new, the experience so magical. And it might already be over?
“I shan’t see a single shilling for a full year,” he continued. “I cannot offer you a palace, or sumptuous apparel, or nights at the opera. I can no longer even offer you my good name. It will be synonymous with scandal. Under such circumstances, I cannot force you to give up your dreams to be with me. We haven’t consummated our marriage. You can still get an annulment if you would be happier without me.”
Her throat grew thick. When she had felt her lowest, when Anthony had easily accepted her despite her history and faults, she hadn’t given his opinion weight because she had believed the only judges of character of value were those in high society. She’d been willing to chase an illusion all the way to Scotland rather than look inside herself to find her own worth and meaning.
She was horrified to think she had affected him in the same way as those who had disparaged her had hurt her.
Anthony was the only one that mattered.
She twined her arms about his neck. “I don’t give a button what Society says. About you, about me. The only thing I care about is us. And if the one thing keeping this marriage from being permanent is consummation…” She curved her lips into a suggestive smile. “How exhausted are you?”
“Not that exhausted.” With a growl, he swung her up into his arms and strode straight to their bedchamber.
Her heart raced as he laid her in the center of the bed. The reality of what was about to happen sent shivers of doubt along her spine. She could never control her body’s attraction to him.
Anthony was her husband. Wives were expected to lie with their husbands. That much was fact. What wives weren’t expected to do was enjoy the encounters. Marital unions were business decisions, political mergers, or even accidents of fate. They weren’t for love, and they certainly weren’t for passion.
That’s what mistresses were for. Courtesans. Whores.
Right now, her husband was backlit by the embers of the small fire as he tugged off his boots, his greatcoat, his cravat. He wasn’t simply an attractive man. He was handsome as sin.
She wished her hands were the ones pushing the tailored blue waistcoat off those broad shoulders. She wished her fingers were the ones freeing each button of his undershirt one by one, then lifting it up over his hard stomach, tugging each sleeve from his strong arms, perhaps even touching her lips to his warm bare flesh as he had done to her mere days earlier.
But these weren’t the thoughts of a wife. These weren’t the idle musings of a gently bred lady or a respectable debutante or an innocent bride.
These were the shamelessly indecent thoughts of a woman who knew full well what sort of blood pulsed in her veins. She took one look at her husband and was filled not with thoughts of demure submission, but with a painful yearning to know him as intimately as possible.