‘Your aunt is visiting Mr Fletcher?’ he had asked, softly into the quiet of the parlour.
‘She is.’ The space between them had never felt so small.
‘Cecily is still asleep?’
‘Yes.’
He gave her a slow smile.
‘I should leave,’ he said, though making no move to rise from his seat. ‘Word is out now; we shall have to start being careful.’
‘How terribly boring,’ Kitty said glibly, leaning towards him. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all.’
He had still been laughing a little as their hands met, and he tugged her towards him gently, from her seat to his. When their mouths met, the air between them was light and conspiratorial. And, despite the warning against impropriety, it was still some time before he had left that morning.
A soft snore brought Kitty out of this pleasant memory, and she looked over to see Cecily had fallen asleep, her head lolling forward on her shoulders. In her hand was clasped a letter from Lord Montagu – penned entirely in very questionable iambic pentameter – and Kitty frowned thoughtfully at it. She really must put some serious thought into how that romance might be promoted.
‘You have your scheming face on,’ James observed. ‘What are you planning?’
‘I do not,’ Kitty said, with great dignity, ‘have a scheming face.’
James eyed her, unconvinced. She arranged her expression into a passable imitation of innocence.
‘Do you really think me so conniving?’ she asked angelically.
‘Yes,’ James said promptly, though not without affection. ‘I have long known you to be the worst sort of villain.’
It might be a trifle unusual to be so frequently called a villain by one’s fiancé, but Kitty had to admit there was some substance to the accusation. And yet, who on earth could argue with her results? It was not, of course, proper to compliment oneself overly, but Kitty could not help feeling that she had handled the past few months marvellously. Returning home not only with their debt cleared, but also with a fiancé she could say, quite truthfully for once, that she loved – why, it could only be considered a Very Good Result.
The carriage started to creak a little, as it began to pass over rougher terrain. Kitty peered out of the window at a landscape that was becoming increasingly familiar.
‘We’re almost there,’ she said breathlessly, reaching for her sister’s knee. ‘Cecily, wake up.’
The carriage was slowing in truth now, before making a right turn onto a weathered track that Kitty knew better than her own face. Netley Cottage came into view with excruciating slowness, and she stared with greedy eyes at the ivy falling over brickwork, the plume of smoke puffing up from the kitchen chimney, the magnolia partially obscuring the front window. She had missed its bloom, she thought, nonsensically, seeing the petals upon the ground. Kitty and Cecily only barely waited for the carriage to stop before scrambling out in disgracefully unladylike fashion. Kitty could already hear shrieks of delight from inside, and the pounding of running feet as the carriage was spotted. She stood still for a moment, taking in great lungfuls of air that she would have sworn tasted different on the tongue.
There was so much still to do, Kitty knew – much to solve, to discuss, to decide – but after months spent lingering in uncertainty, of constantly doubting whether the risk was worth it, whether the choices were the right ones, whether this plan was cleverer than that one, she allowed herself the indulgence of enjoying the profound relief that was now filling her. They were home, at last. They had done it. And as the front door opened with a bang and her sisters came spilling out towards them, Kitty felt perfectly sure that she was, in this moment, exactly where she needed to be.
Acknowledgements
It might be quicker to name the people who didn’t help me write this book, rather than to thank everyone that did – but if you’ll bear with me, I’m going to try anyway.
Firstly, thank you to Maddy Milburn and her whole team for taking me on in the first place. Your kindness, passion and – it has to be said – tireless ambition continues to stagger me. Thank you to Maddy, Rachel Yeoh and Georgia McVeigh for your work on those first edits – from the beginning you understood what I was trying to say better than I could – and to Liv Maidment, Rachel again, Giles Milburn and Emma Dawson for answering my incessant questions. Fervent thanks also to Liane-Louise Smith, Valentina Paulmichl and Georgina Simmonds for taking my book out into the world with such energy, for finding such a magnificent international team to work with and for always writing such lovely emails.