whispered, reaching across his body to take his hand, threading their fingers together.
“Are you willing to share your life with me—not your money, mind you—but your body and soul and time and future?”
She laughed against his chest. “Just those things?”
“It is all I ask,” he said.
“Well, then, I think you have made me an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Then we have a deal?”
She nodded against him.
“I need your verbal agreement,” he pressed.
She raised up on one arm, then used her other hand to brush the hair from his forehead. “I love you, Harry, and upon our marriage, I will give to you my body, soul, time, and future in exchange for yours.”
He smiled widely and pulled her toward him to seal such a promise. “‘Cease we to praise, now pray we for a kiss.’”
Five Months Later
Men yelled and seabirds shrieked amid the creaking ropes and lapping water against the bows of the ships moored up and down the Brighton pier. A winter wind cut through the air, taking Sabrina’s breath in the middle of her explaining to the dockworker what her second trunk looked like. They’d only off-loaded the one, and she’d been trying to locate the second one for fifteen minutes.
“There is no monogram, just the name ‘Sabrina,’” she said. “The trunk is yellow.” Harry’s lap blanket was in that trunk. Every other item could sink to the bottom of the sea for all she cared, but that lap blanket was precious, and if it were lost she would never forgive herself.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.”
He scurried away, and she held her hat to her head as another bracing gust of wind whipped past her. The weather had been mild in Naples, and yet she had been ready to be home, winter and all. Through the months she’d spent with Meg, she’d received only a handful of letters from England—three from friends, one from Nathan, and two from Harry.
The most recent letter from Harry had been sent in October, and she had no idea when, or even if, her response had been received. She was eager to see him, but there was much to be done before that could happen.
She would stay at Mrs. Ambrose’s apartment in Brighton for a few days and write to Harry so he would know she had returned. After her time with Mrs. Ambrose, she would go on to Rose Haven to reestablish housekeeping there. Then there would be Nathan’s wedding and the Season to prepare for, and somewhere in there she would see Harry, and they would . . . talk, as they’d discussed.
What that meeting would be like was an impossible thing for her to properly anticipate because she had no idea what to expect. Had he stayed away from the bottle? Were his feelings still what they had been when they’d left Rose Haven in separate carriages five months ago?
She stepped back from the bustle of the pier, pressing herself against a building to try to avoid the sting of rain coming in sideways. She felt a tug at her arm and turned to the dirty wharf boy she’d sent a message with upon disembarking from the passenger ship she’d been glad to quit. Mrs. Ambrose had promised her carriage to Sabrina when she arrived; the boy had put that action into play.
“The lady’s carriage will come for you at the booth,” the boy said, then put out his grubby palm.
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she put a sixpence in his hand.
“Blimey,” the boy said breathlessly before clenching his fist around the money. He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He grinned and scampered away.
Sabrina had thought a great deal about Harry’s quick acceptance of her situation—their situation, perhaps—regarding children. She’d fallen in love with Meg’s children, so could she not fall in love with others? It was a question she had discussed at length with Meg during their time together.
When she looked back at the boat, two sailors were bringing her yellow trunk down the gangplank. She let out a sigh of relief and stepped forward to direct them toward the booth where Mrs. Ambrose’s carriage would soon be.
The carriage arrived only minutes after she’d paid the porters, and the driver jumped down to load the trunks beneath the box. She reached for the door handle, but it turned from the inside before she touched it. Had Mrs. Ambrose come to meet her?
She looked from the drawn curtains to the open door