An Indecent Gambit

Epilogue

— Six Weeks Later —

It was very late and the dinner plates were empty but for the barest crumbs. They had stayed at the table talking and drinking wine. The past few weeks had been a lot of talking with James. It was almost like being courted by him again, with the exception that she was married to him. They had danced, gone for rides in the park, attended plays, and visited galleries, and at the end of it, always, she had returned to Harriet's house. She had been nervous of accepting James's invitation to dinner, and had put it off several times. But it had been quite wonderful, really, having him all to herself with no one to overhear or interrupt anything they might say — or observe what they might do. And now they had fallen into silence, and James had loosened his cravat and was staring into the distance as he twisted his wine glass idly in his hands. It was nearing midnight. It was probably time for Grace to go back to Harriet's.

"It's getting late," Grace said reluctantly.

"Right." James glanced at the clock. "I suppose it is. I lost track of time."

"I, uh, ought to be getting back."

James gave her a wry smile. "I'll call for the carriage."

He stood and, on his way to the bell-pull, stooped and kissed the top of her head. Grace's heart shivered at his touch. She watched as he went on to tug at the bell. She had thought he might try to seduce her tonight, or persuade her to stay, but he had given her no affection beyond a bare few kisses and the warmth of the expression of his eyes.

"Wait," Grace said. "I— I can stay a little longer."

James paused at the bell-pull. "Whenever you're ready then."

"Actually, I... I was thinking I could stay the night."

James tried to speak and choked on his own words. He coughed to clear his throat. "Beg pardon?"

"It would be a pity to disturb you servants to send me home."

"Indeed." James cleared his throat. "But they will have to make your bedroom up. Won't they?"

Grace's cheeks warmed. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Oh." James's own cheeks were red. "I— I'm tired. I'm thinking of going to bed now."

"It's probably time to turn in."

He helped her to her feet and when she was standing kept his hand in hers. Together, they went up the stairs to the second floor. On the landing, James pulled her close and kissed her, his lips tasting like wine.

"I just want to make very sure," he said. "Are you asking me to bed with you?"

She nodded and twisted her arms around the back of his neck. "I want you to... to make me your wife."

"You are my wife." He kissed her again. "I've been trying to avoid—" he kissed her "—seducing you into—" again "—forgiving me."

"Forgiving you?" She drew back and stroked his hair, trembling with sudden uncertainty. "James, I still... hurt. But I want this. I want to know what it is. I want you to show me."

"You do?" He looked searchingly at her eyes. "I'll show you. Come with me."

He pulled her down the passageway to his bedroom and led her to the bed, where he kissed the inside of her wrist and pushed her gently down on top of it. She lay back against the pillows, her heart racing with anticipation as his delicate hands removed her shoes and stockings and his kisses made their way up her calves to her thighs.