by Jane Godman
Rosie hid her face against Jack’s shoulder, saying, in muffled accents.
“I thought you had gone to see Lady Cavendish.”
Jack took hold of her chin and tilted her face up to him.
“You would appear to have the self-confidence of a gnat … and a very poor opinion of my fidelity, sweetheart.” He said, dropping a kiss onto the end of her upturned nose. “The only remedy will be to make you Lady St Anton as soon as I can and devote the rest of my life to convincing you of my love for you. Besides, Bella and Perry appear to have discovered a certain pleasure in each other’s company … which would appear to me to be a match made in heaven ... or between the pages of a farce. I confess, I neither know nor care which.”
“When will your wedding day be?” Tom enquired.
“Next week, if not sooner,” Jack reached into his other pocket and produced another piece of paper. “I also took the time, whilst in London, to procure a special licence. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason.” Jack and Rosie exchanged an astonished glance. Was Tom actually blushing? “I thought that I might travel to Scotland again, once you are wed … perhaps pay another visit to Kilcroath … and stay a little longer this time …
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