Julia let her head fall back on the pillows. Now that it had been several minutes since they’d finished, she felt the lack of a fire, the chill seeping in from the corners of the room. “I shall have to apologize to her for missing our walk this afternoon.”

  “You can beg her forgiveness in the morning,” he said, carefully sliding away from her and standing up again beside the bed. “You should probably take an evening to let your thoughts settle. Eat something, have a bath, or simply climb under the blankets and sleep for the rest of the night. I’m more than capable of taking care of my daughter for an evening.”

  Julia sat up on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her wrinkled skirt as she watched him sweep up his shirt and waistcoat from the floor. “Can I…” And she hesitated, because there was a deeper meaning to what she wanted to say, the answer to a question he’d already posed hidden inside her own query. “Can I spend the night with you? In your room?” she added, hoping he would understand her intent.

  He paused while tucking the hem of his shirt back into his trousers. “Do you mean for the entire night? What if the servants—”

  “I don’t care.” A bit of a lie, that. She did care, but not enough for it to deter her. “And whatever scandal might come of it, it should only be a temporary one.”

  The bed creaked as Alexander sat down. He reached out and took one of her hands. “What are you saying, Julia?”

  “That I’m tired of being afraid.” She laced her fingers with his. “That even though the very thought of marriage should send me running in the other direction, I know that I can’t allow fear to continually keep me from what I want. And I want you and I want Zora and I want…” She paused, hoping to wait out the quaver in her voice, but she didn’t think she would succeed. “I want happiness, and I want love. And I know it’s possible, even if our own experiences might give evidence to the contrary. My parents were happy, and my sisters seem to love the lives they have now. But I love you,” she said, and stumbled there, because she realized it was the first time she had dared to say it outloud. “And with you, I’m willing to try again.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. “Then I will do everything in my power to be worthy of you.”

  “No.” She almost snatched her hand away, but she didn’t want to alarm him. “Please don’t say things like that. You make it seem as though I’m better than I am.” She lowered her head, her teeth worrying at her lower lip until she feared she might set it to bleeding again. “Are you sure, though? About marrying me?”

  “Julia.” And he sighed, while he settled the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I’ve thought about having you as my wife for… too long,” he admitted. “Since before it would’ve even been possible to marry you. I imagined what it would be like to wake up every day to your kindness, your beauty, your indomitable strength—”

  “No, I’m not—” she started to interrupt, but her words faltered as he raised his eyebrows and looked at her.

  “I remember when I first met you,” he said, his voice low, mesmerizing. “At the vicarage. We caught you unawares, I think, not long after you and your husband had arrived. Anna wanted to pay a visit, and… Well. But there you were, flustered and doing everything in your power not to show it. And then you disappeared off to the kitchen and—”

  “You followed me.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to see you.” As simple as that, as though no other explanation was necessary. “You were bustling about, trying to put together a tray.”

  She smiled at the memory. “I couldn’t find the tea, and I was out of sugar.”

  “And the biscuits were stale.”

  “Were they?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was such a mess that day. You and Mrs. Halberd walked in, and I suddenly felt so… inferior.”

  “You were beautiful.”

  Her first instinct was to contradict him, but instead she let his words wrap around her, the touch of them as solid as his hands on her skin. Frederick had never told her that she was beautiful, but then, she didn’t think her husband had ever seen her. And yet, she still hesitated, because there was still one more question she needed to ask. “But what about children?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She swallowed. Already, her throat felt thick, like she might choke on her next words. “You understand that if we marry, I cannot give you any children. Not children of our own. We’ll have Zora, but…”

  “Julia, I know.”

  Oh, it was easy for him to say. But what about a year later? Ten years? Would he look back and regret choosing a wife who could not bear him a son or daughter? “I just… I don’t want you to enter into this lightly. I don’t want you to wish you’d rather have—”

  “Julia.”

  She sniffed, and she realized her eyes were burning.

  He shifted on the bed until he was in front of her, until she couldn’t avoid looking at some part of him. “Yes, I was upset when I first learned that Zora wasn’t mine. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to rest until I have a child of my own to carry on some great Halberd lineage. I’m not a Tudor king, ready to send you to the Tower if you’re incapable of providing me with a son.”

  A laugh slipped out of her. “I know. It’s only…” She shook her head. Why was all of this so difficult to say?

  “Julia, I love you, and I want to marry you. That’s it. There’s nothing else. No footnotes or codicils. Only you. And it will make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. He loved her. She saw it in his gaze, in his every feature. He loved her for her, and she couldn’t put into words how that made her feel.

  “I’m going to check on Zora,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I left her with one of the maids, but no doubt she’s bombarded the woman with so many questions she’ll be resigning from her post first thing in the morning.” He stood up, shrugged into his waistcoat, and fussed with a couple of the buttons before giving up on them. “But I’ll see you tonight? Unless you’d—”

  “Yes, tonight,” she assured him. And every night after, she hoped.

  Chapter Nineteen

  * * *

  Julia was to be a married woman.

  Again.

  A night, a day, and another full night had passed since she’d found the letters from her husband to Mrs. Halberd, since she’d learned of their affair and Zora’s true parentage. The pain of it had not retreated. It was less acute than those first few hours, changing now to a steady ache that curled up inside of her, like a dragon hoarding its anger as though it was a mound of treasure to be protected.

  The most difficult moment had been in greeting Zora the next morning. Julia had steeled herself for it, thinking that if she simply grit her teeth and kept control of her breathing, all would be well. But she stopped at the threshold of the nursery, every part of her held still as she looked at the girl as if for the very first time.

  There was her husband’s jaw, she realized, as Zora clambered out of bed with a smile on her face. There was the tilt of his eyes, and the same curve in the shell of his ears that had been his, as well. She was amazed that she hadn’t seen it before, now that the resemblance was so startlingly clear to her. But perhaps she hadn’t wanted to notice it. Perhaps her own mind had been fighting to save her from the hurt it would undoubtedly cause. Perhaps—

  “Good morning, Mrs. Benton!” Zora had padded over to her in her nightgown and bare feet, her dark hair sticking out from the back of her head like a bird’s nest. “Are you feeling better today?”

  Julia opened her mouth to speak and immediately felt her throat catch. Not because of any anger or hatred ready to spill over, but instead because of the love she carried for Zora, this little girl who so wished to share her own love and affection and curiosity in return.

  “My head is still a little muddled,” Julia confessed, as close to the truth as she would dare reach. “But I should feel well again soon enough. Let’s get you dressed and have our breakfast together, hmm? And if the morning stays fine, I think we’ll be able to fit in that walk I promised to you yesterday.”

  And so they had their walk, and their lessons, and then a respite in front of the drawing room fire with buttered toast and milky tea as the daylight waned.

  Alexander returned that evening, and before dinner — with Julia’s permission, and after a quiet talk with Zora (which was not quiet for long, once they told her the news) — an announcement was made to the household.

  “Mrs. Benton,” he said, his voice carrying over the heads of the assembled staff. “Has agreed to be my wife.”

  A cheer went up as drinks were passed around, and toasts and shouts of congratulation to the happy couple followed. Julia was overwhelmed by the attention, but Alexander’s arm around her waist buoyed her up, while Zora clung to her hand, the girl’s smile bright enough to light up any room without the aid of a lamp or candle.

  The announcement had been made not out of any desire to rush the proceedings — Julia and Alexander had both agree to allow the banns to be read in church and all of the usual formalities to have their time — but rather to stave off any of the gossip that might have already begun to circulate about their relationship. Should they be seen together now that they were officially betrothed, any scandal that might erupt from the sight of one of them slipping into the other’s bedroom in the middle of the night would be muted by the knowledge they were to be married soon enough. And they were older than most couples planning a wedding, with both of them having been married before and Alexander with a child. No doubt most people assumed they were marrying for companionship in their declining years, and so that Zora would have a mother in her life as she matured. Julia wagered few would believe they’d spent the last two nights together in Alexander’s room, giving and receiving pleasure from one another in ways that made her blush to think about, even hours later.

  And so Julia awoke that next morning as the acknowledged future Mrs. Halberd. Word, she knew, would travel quickly. No doubt the news of their betrothal was already circulating through the houses of Barrow-in-Ashton, swirling over their breakfast tables like the steam rising from their cups of coffee and bowls of porridge.

  She didn’t care what they said, or at least any of it that pertained to her. She had already endured countless rounds of gossip throughout her marriage to Frederick. What were a few more words sent into the air on wasted breath? The important things were Alexander’s and Zora’s happiness. And her own, of course. She’d spent too many years attempting to shape her life into a role that wasn’t ultimately hers to fill, and all it had brought her was misery and grief.

  “No more,” she whispered to her own reflection, and went to the nursery to wake up Zora for the day.

  They breakfasted downstairs in the dining room together, Alexander greeting Julia with a brief kiss to her cheek before they all seated themselves at the table. Julia didn’t blush at the open display of affection, and she glanced over at Zora to see the girl smiling at the both of them, her eyes sparkling with some inner excitement.

  They ate and spoke as though nothing had changed, and yet everything had. The servants, even, treated Julia with greater deference than before, fully aware that she would soon be transitioning from governess to head of the household.

  But it wasn’t the behavior of the servants that hovered like a storm cloud over Julia’s thoughts. Instead, she wondered what Mrs. Holland’s reaction to the news would be. The housekeeper had been present for Alexander’s announcement, but Julia had barely seen her since then, only flashes of her here and there as they’d both gone about the business of their lives. Now that Julia was more informed about Mrs. Holland’s history, her beginnings as a maid to the former Mrs. Halberd before rising to the rank of housekeeper after coming to Langford, Julia feared there might be an increase in animosity towards her from the other woman, as though she was seeking to wipe out all traces of Alexander’s first wife from existence.

  “I should be back this afternoon,” Alexander said as all three of them left the dining room after breakfast. “It looks like rain this afternoon, or perhaps a little snow if the temperatures stay low. Perhaps some backgammon, Zora? Along with toasted sausages over the drawing room fire for a light supper?”

  Zora clapped her hands together. “And we can make plans for the wedding! I think it should be outside, and at sunset. And Mrs. Benton could have her hair down—”

  “We’ll see,” Alexander said, before Zora could have them planning a search for the ancient remnants of Camelot as part of the ceremony.

  Julia and Alexander had both agreed they didn’t want a large wedding. A simple affair was more to their liking, a small service at the church followed by a modest wedding breakfast primarily for the servants and tenants of Langford. Neither of them had a desire to entertain their neighbors by making a lavish show of things, but the prospect of readying the house for the dozens of guests they anticipated was still a large affair, especially since there had been no such parties or celebrations since Mrs. Halberd had died.

  “Will there be music?” Zora piped up again, while Julia tried to wipe the last of the jam from the corner of her sticky mouth. “And dancing? Or maybe a juggler! We were reading about weddings in the time of the medieval kings and queens, and they would have jesters and acrobats and even sword swallowers! Do people still swallow swords?”

  “I believe good food and maybe some music will be enough of an ode to our royal forebears,” Alexander said, and kissed the top of Zora’s head before he straightened and dropped a light kiss on Julia’s lips. He grinned at the widening of her eyes, and laughed outright when she bussed the side of his jaw in return. “This afternoon, then,” he promised, leaving them to fetch his hat and coat as Mrs. Holland strode from the rear of the house to meet them outside the dining room. The housekeeper’s gaze narrowed on Julia in such a way that made it clear she’d witnessed the open display of affection between her and Alexander and did not approve.

  “Mrs. Decatur is here,” Mrs. Holland announced without preamble. Or warmth.

  “Oh! Are the rest of the gowns finished already? Surely it’s not been long enough for so much work to be completed.”

  Mrs. Holland sniffed. “She wishes to speak with you, Mrs. Benton. I did not think it my place to inquire as to the specific reasons behind her visit.”

  Julia suspected Mrs. Holland very much thought it her place to interrogate every visitor to any and all reasons behind their visits to Langford, but she refrained from saying as much. “To speak with me? That’s all?”

  “From what I understand, it has to do with your impending marriage to Mr. Halberd.”

  If lemons could grow mouths and speak, Julia thought while surveying Mrs. Holland’s change in expression as the word “marriage” passed her lips. “Very well. Is she…?”

  “I’ve put her in the drawing room. I didn’t take the liberty of sending for tea as it’s so close upon the heels of breakfast. A bit of an impertinence, to show up so early in the day, but as she’s in trade, no doubt she assumes she can come and go whenever it best suits her working hours.”

  Julia bit down on her tongue until the first flash of her ire dissipated. “I think a tea tray will be in order, along with any biscuits or tarts the cook might have available at such short notice. As Mrs. Decatur is in trade, as you put it, she has most likely been up for several hours already and is in need of some refreshment. Zora,” she said, and turned to find the girl crouched down on the floor, tracing a pattern in the polished wood with her fingers. “Why don’t you go up to the nursery and begin on your French? I can go over your sentences with you when I’ve finished with Mrs. Decatur.”

  Zora raced towards the stairs, darting up them two at a time before Julia could call out after her not to run in the house.

  “She is still showing little signs of improvement,” Mrs. Holland said from her place behind Julia. “I had hoped to see some change in her by now, but if anything she is even more feral than before. A few new gowns will not be enough to hide her misbehavior. I assume you will be hiring a new governess once you and Mr. Halberd are wed?”

  Julia pressed her palms flat against the front of her thighs. “I hadn’t given the matter any thought,” she admitted, her jaw set, teeth clenched as she spoke. “But I see nothing untoward in Zora’s behavior. She has an eager, curious mind, and an abundance of energy. In other words, she is a child.” She turned around to face Mrs. Holland, and her hands found their way to her hips, her fingers digging deep into the fabric of her gown to better keep her temper in check. “But be assured that when Mr. Halberd and I come to any decision about her upbringing, it will have absolutely nothing to do with you. Good morning, Mrs. Holland.”

  She kept her breathing steady as she walked away, even as her heart hammered inside her chest. She was not accustomed to speaking so boldly to someone else, to putting voice to the thoughts she normally would have smothered in her head before they could make themselves heard. Her hands were still trembling as she opened the door to the drawing room and stepped inside. Mrs. Decatur was standing and waiting for her, her long face brightening with an easy smile as soon as she saw Julia enter.

  “Mrs. Benton!” The dressmaker took an eager step forward. “I hope you will excuse my prompt arrival this morning, but I assumed that with a young child in your care, it followed that you very likely kept to a young child’s schedule. And I wanted to see you as early as possible, considering that there is not much time to waste!”

  “Much… time?” Julia hesitated beside one of the chairs, then remembered her manners and gestured for Mrs. Decatur to take a seat.

  “Well, um.” The dressmaker’s hands fluttered in her lap. “I hope you do not think it presumptuous of me to mention it, but word has already reached me that you are due felicitations on your recent betrothal to Mr. Halberd?”