Julia thanked the maid and began filling the plates herself. There were potatoes and sausages and toast that was burnt on one side, but at least the food was hot and there was plenty of it. “So there will be no repercussions?”

  “Mrs. Holland will be continuing on her way to Cornwall. To Truro, if I’m not mistaken.” Alexander picked up his fork and stabbed a chunk of sausage. “And there she will remain. In fact, if I ever receive word that she has left Cornwall at any future date and for any reason, I will drag her in front of the magistrate and have her charged with abduction.”

  Zora looked up from her plate, where she had been carefully separating her foods so they would not come in contact with one another. “I wouldn’t have liked to visit my Mama’s family,” she said, scooping up a piece of potato and surveying it with a suspicious eye. “She said I was to have dancing lessons and that I wouldn’t be able to climb trees because ladies don’t climb trees.” She popped the potato into her mouth and made a face as she chewed.

  They finished eating and Julia gathered up Zora’s things to be taken down to the carriage, while Alexander helped his daughter into her coat and bonnet before leading her down to see the horses before they were off. Julia slipped into her own coat and was tugging on her gloves as she left the room, her attention so fixed on how quickly they could return to Langford that she almost didn’t notice the door open to her left as she walked towards the stairs.

  “Mrs. Benton?”

  Julia halted, one glove still hanging from her fingertips.

  Mrs. Holland stood in the doorway, still clad in her nightdress, looking as though she'd done nothing but pace the length of her room the entirety of the night. Julia couldn’t bring herself to speak, or to even blink in acknowledgement of the sight before her. And so Mrs. Holland opened the door a little wider and took a single step over the threshold.

  “The child belongs with her family,” she said, the words short and sharp, as though each one had been carved out of the air with a knife. “I know Mr. Halberd has no claim on her, no blood claim. I had hoped that he would see fit to raise her in a way that would be beneficial to her class and fortune, but I fear I put too much hope in him. He is a man, and he does not know what a girl should need. But since she is her mother’s daughter more than anything, I believe that she should be raised by her mother’s family. It would be for her own good.”

  Julia pressed her lips together. She told herself not to say a word, to walk away. She would not even give the woman another glance. So she continued to pull on her gloves, her hands shaking, her legs feeling strangely like water as she took another step towards the stairs.

  “He’ll grow bored of you, you know.”

  Her breath stopped. She shouldn’t listen. She shouldn’t. But she stood there, tethered to the spot by the resemblance Mrs. Holland’s voice had to the one that repeated the same words to her in her darkest hours.

  “He needs a younger wife. A healthy wife. Someone who can give him children. Children of his own,” Mrs. Holland stressed. “And not merely an illegitimate girl he’s failed by letting run wild about the countryside, by bringing in someone like you to see to her care.”

  Another step. Mrs. Holland’s bare feet barely made a sound on the floor. “If he’s going to insist on keeping her, then you would do better to leave him, to leave Langford. Let him hire a proper governess, one who can see to Miss Halberd’s education. A proper education, not one that allows her to dig in the dirt and play with toy soldiers like a little boy. An education befitting her status, one that will see her take her place in society and find a suitable husband, someone who is her equal.”

  “Like her mother?” Julia turned around, her fingers flexing inside her gloves.“A woman who deceived her husband? Who bore another man’s child because instead of learning how to sacrifice for what she wanted, she simply took and took with the belief that she could have everything?”

  Mrs. Holland’s mouth drew into a flat line. “I will admit, I was disappointed in her for that. I never approved of her infatuation with Mr. Benton. I told her to leave him be, that no good with come from her dalliance with him—”

  “It was more than a dalliance,” Julia was quick to point out. “They were together for years.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Holland raised her chin, a movement that highlighted the shadows beneath her eyes. “And do you think I never noticed the looks between you and Mr. Halberd while you were both still married? The attention he paid to you? I knew what would happen when he decided to hire you as Miss Halberd’s supposed governess. I’m not a fool, Mrs. Benton. I knew you’d end up in his bed, like some common whore, and I was right. But perhaps if you’d spent the years of your marriage paying attention to your own husband rather than lusting after someone else’s, he might not have seen the need to carry on with Mrs. Halberd for so long.”

  No. No. Julia would not listen to this. She would not let anyone tell her that she was at all to blame for her husband’s infidelity, for his cruelty towards her. And she would not let such poisonous speech reinforce her own guilt and fears, would not let it destroy the brilliant shard of happiness she had found with Alexander.

  “I will not wish you a good day, Mrs. Holland,” she said, her voice polite enough for the grandest of drawing rooms. “Or safe travels, or any of the trite and meaningless words etiquette would dictate I offer to you in farewell. I will simply wish you gone.”

  She turned and walked down the stairs, determined not to look back, not to give the housekeeper another second of attention than she deserved. When she stepped outside the inn, it was into near-blinding sunlight, the air so bracingly cold it made her feel as though each breath was scraping away something old and dismal from inside herself and allowing a newer, brighter portion of her thoughts to shine through.

  She spotted Alexander and Zora at the other side of the yard, Zora busy trying to catch a chicken and spattering the hem of her new gown with slush and mud in the process while Alexander did nothing to stop her.

  “And just what are you doing?” She tried to inject a touch of admonishment into her tone, but the sun was too bright and the day full of too much potential for her to stifle the grin teasing the corners of her mouth.

  Alexander turned to her with a smile of his own, though it dimmed at the sight of her. “Are you all right? You look—”

  She waved away his concern, not wanting to speak about it in front of Zora, to spoil the joy of the scene before her. “I saw a shadow, and I was startled. That’s all.”

  He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his side. “The carriage will be ready in a few minutes. If the roads are a bit better this morning, we should be home again in only a few hours.”

  Home again…

  Her chin quivered, but she brushed the back of her hand across her jaw, hiding the movement from sight. “To Langford,” she said, as Zora squealed and the chicken squawked to fly away from her. “Home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  The last of the wedding guests did not leave until well after sunset. Julia and Alexander saw them off from Langford’s front steps, the stars sparking to life overhead as they waved away the cart bearing Mr. and Mrs. Cowper and their five children (along with enough leftovers from the meal to feed the family for a week).

  Once the cart had rumbled down the drive and out of sight, they stood there beneath the clear, open sky, a light breeze picking up the ends of Julia’s shawl and teasing the ends of Alexander’s hair.

  Julia breathed in deep, noticing the mossy smells of earth and new growth carried on the wind. It was still winter, but its hold over the land seemed to have loosened over the last few days, even the rain they’d had earlier in the week carrying a tentative warmth that spoke of spring flowers and green grass carpeting the lawn. Still, she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, the evening chill raising goosebumps on her arm after spending so many hours entertaining dozens of guests indoors.

  “It was a good day,” Alexander said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him.

  She laughed, low and deep in her throat. It had been a good day. And an exhausting one. There had been the wedding in the morning and then immediately on to the wedding breakfast at Langford, which had extended into an all-day celebration hosting Langford’s tenants as well as guests from the village and the surrounding county, including many of Julia’s pupils and their families.

  And there had been gifts and messages of congratulations. Though the best of them were the letters from her sisters, including a promise from both that they would come to Langford with their families once the weather improved. For an extended stay.

  “We should go in,” Alexander said, still holding her. His hands found their way beneath her shawl to settle snugly beneath her breasts.

  “We should,” she echoed, but without any true conviction behind the words. The night was cold, but Alexander’s embrace was warm. The servants were inside, cleaning up from the party — and a party it had swiftly become, once Alexander had the wine and ale brought up from the cellars and a portion of the floor had been cleared of furniture for an impromptu bit of dancing. “But not yet, I think.”

  She turned in his arms, working her own embrace to fit beneath his jacket. He was her husband now, Mr. Alexander Halberd. She tipped her head up to kiss his chin, and then the side of his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth before he twisted his head to claim her lips completely.

  He kissed her slowly, but with an undercurrent of yearning. It was a kiss meant to remind them both that they had the rest of their lives together for such kisses and embraces. No, they weren’t as young as most newly-married couples. Julia brushed her fingers through Alexander’s hair, sporting its streaks of gray. Yes, she could lament the years they’d lost, years spent desiring one another from the periphery of their own lives, but the past was a thing that couldn’t be changed. They had each other now, and they had Zora, who had already brought so much happiness into their lives.

  “Where is Zora?” Julia asked, pulling away from Alexander to speak before he could kiss her again. “The last I saw her, she was trying to feed Ellen bits of fruitcake.”

  “Under one of the tables, asleep with Ellen curled up beside her. She retreated under there not long after the dancing began.”

  Julia smiled and tucked her head against his shoulder. “We should go in then, if only to take her up to bed. Surely she can’t be comfortable on the floor of the ballroom.”

  Alexander laughed. “You’d be surprised to see where children choose to sleep when left to their own devices. In the middle of the floor, on the stairs, tucked behind the potatoes in the root cellar—”

  “What?” Julia laughed. “Behind the potatoes?”

  “She was four years old at the time. We were playing hide and seek.” He laughed at the memory. “She was already snoring by the time I found her.”

  They held hands as they returned inside, Alexander’s thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that could have been perfectly innocent, but ignited such a feeling of need in Julia that she wondered how anyone could glance at her in that moment and not know exactly what was on her mind.

  Their wedding night.

  She wasn’t a young maid about to approach her marriage bed for the first time. She and Alexander had spent nearly every night together in the weeks leading up to the wedding. But this felt… different, somehow. It would be their first time together as man and wife. There would be no secretly slipping into his bedroom or his study after Zora was asleep and most of the household had turned in for the night, or rushing back to their own rooms before the maids came back to light the fires. They were Mr. and Mrs. Halberd now, and there was no reason to hide their love for fear of scandal.

  They made their way to the ballroom, which had been opened up and cleaned in preparation for the wedding, after sitting in stifling silence for years. A few servants still roamed the edges of the room, clearing away dirty plates and leftover food, one maid even draining the dregs of a serving of wine before adding the empty glass to her collection of dishes.

  They found Zora asleep beneath one of the long tables, the end of a tablecloth drooping over the edge and serving as her blanket. Ellen sat on her hip in a curl of orange fur and twitching whiskers, so Julia gathered up the kitten — who was soon to outgrow the title of kitten in the next few weeks — while Alexander reached under the table and scooped Zora up into his arms. She murmured something unintelligible and slung her arms around his neck, then settled back into sleep as they walked out of the ballroom and up the stairs.

  “She’ll rest well tonight,” he said as he laid her on her bed and fit the pillow under her head. Julia set Ellen down — who promptly began walking in a circle at the foot of the bed and kneading the blanket with her paws — and took off Isadora’s shoes before tucking her feet and legs under the covers.

  “And most likely be awake before dawn tomorrow,” Julia added, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “So we shouldn’t stay up much longer ourselves if we’re to get any sleep.”

  “Sleep?” Alexander looked over at her, confusion written across his features. “It’s not late yet. Surely you don’t mean to—” He trailed off, realization smoothing the lines from his brow. “Ah,” he said. And his gaze darkened, his grin becoming an invitation. “Then what are we waiting for? I wouldn’t want you to wake up too tired in the morning.”

  “You’re terrible.” She teased him. She liked teasing him. She liked that she could tease him, that there was such comfort between them that she never worried she might say or do the wrong thing. That he would ever think less of her for any reason.

  “I am terrible, yes. Pity you should only discover it tonight, now that everything is legally bound by the church and the law.” His hand slid over her ribcage, and she felt the heat of him through the layers of her clothing. “Divorces, I hear, are awfully difficult to acquire.”

  She laughed as he opened the door to his room, as he led her inside. But despite the levity, her heart fluttered in her chest when she realized they were alone together, that the day was at an end and she was retiring for the night with her husband.

  Her husband.

  Julia never believed she would be able to utter that pairing of words without panic assailing her. For a moment, her thoughts whirled back to her first wedding night, over a dozen years before. How nervous she had been then, how willing to oblige and do everything that was asked of her, without requesting anything in return. And then Frederick had climbed on top of her, finished within three minutes, and rolled away from her, leaving her alone on her side of the bed for the rest of the night.

  And she had thought that was how it was supposed to be. That to want more, to think she deserved more was akin to believing in fairies and dragons and happily ever afters.

  So she had spent those years following Frederick’s death, after coming to terms with the fact her marriage had been a misery, and that she would never be able to bear a child… Well, she had spent that time wanting and wishing for nothing. Because she was still alive. And she had her little place with Mrs. Cochran. And she’d had her school on Sundays, as ill-supported a venture as it was by the majority of the townspeople, though she would never stop teaching, as long as she still possessed the ability to do it.

  And she had believed herself fortunate to have those meager comforts and liberties, to be able to exist without having to fully throw herself onto the charity of her family, to be stored away like last season’s coat — or last decade’s coat, if she was to be honest with herself — and promptly forgotten.

  But Alexander saw her. And he always had, since their very first meeting all those years ago.

  To be seen was a remarkable thing. It didn’t depend on what she could provide for him, children or money or status. Instead, she suspected he saw her very much as she saw him, as someone who made her feel safe, and loved, and wanted, simply for who they were.

  She walked into the middle of the bedroom, her arms folded over her chest and her hands sliding up and down the long sleeves of her gown as though she was chilled, regardless of the heat emanating from the fireplace. Alexander was behind her. She heard him light a candle, heard the strike of his boots on the floor as he carried it over to the nightstand. When she finally turned to look at him, he stood beside the bed, the knot of his neckcloth already undone, every mark of his features limned with anticipation.

  “No,” she said.

  A line appeared between his eyes. “No?”

  She smiled. “Come here.”

  He turned away from the bed, crossing the room to stand in front of her.

  She didn’t know where to begin. To kiss him? To touch him? To strip him down until he was naked and wanting before her? He had given her so much control in their relationship, and she wondered if he knew what a marvelous thing that was.

  “Alexander,” she said. Saying his name, watching the fire burn in his eyes and the thrum of his pulse beneath his jaw.

  He swallowed, and there was the rise and fall of his throat, the sudden tension in his jaw as the prospect of the night ahead vaunted into the realm of the overwhelming. Without looking down, he took her hand, his fingers lightly circling her wrist, and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her fingers, and then her palm, the tip of his tongue tracing one of the lines on her skin before his teeth nipped at the soft flesh on the inside of her wrist.

  That alone was nearly enough to undo her.

  She brought her hand down to the front of his trousers, to the hard length of his cock already pressing against the fabric there. His buttons were easily managed, her fingers working as quickly as their trembling would allow. He gasped when she touched him, her skin on his, her hand wrapped around the base of him. She stroked him once, so slowly she knew what torture it was for him, just as maddening as it was for her when he drew out the pleasure of his fingers and his mouth between her legs.