Page 102 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“Meg, if you returned a fraction of my regard, it would be enough.”

“I love you more than a fraction.”

The softness of his mouth edged toward hers. “I would like to kiss you, love.”

“Hurry, for my heart is bursting.”

She raised her face to his. The kiss broke over her in a wave that loosened every muscle she’d used to resist him. Each time she’d swept her hand from his, every step she’d taken away from him, she surrendered. In his kiss, she found the sincerity of his words, the delight and awe he discovered in her. His hand slipped to the small of her back, her spine softening to his touch as his mouth grazed hers softly, questioning rather than demanding. This was not a passion that burned and flamed out. He took his time, sharing rather than taking.

With a hand on his cheek, she pulled him closer, opened to him, wanting him to understand her own honest intentions, to show him she returned his admiration. He reached to cradle the nape of her neck, hands tumbling into the mess of her hair. Meg released his cheek and slipped her hand under his coat, feeling the strong contours that seemed a tangible testimony of all he offered. She had spent so long believing herself unworthy of this.

In the warmth of his body against hers, she became light and heavy all at once, grounded in the certainty of her own feelings and assured of his. Peter was a man she could wake beside each morning, one who saw her clearly and still offered his love.

When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his hands in her hair.

“I was lying when I said I want you across the street,” he said.

“Where would you have me?”

“Beside me at the breakfast table. On every stroll through town. Tucked in with me every night.”

“Are you proposing, Mr. Sloan?”

“I’d marry you this moment if I could. Isn’t Lord Halverton friends with the archbishop?”

This was too much happiness, but she needed to sit with it a little longer. “We will wed in the winter.”

“Three months away?”

“Our wedding will give us something to celebrate when the world is at its coldest. Until then, I will be your neighbor and betrothed. Besides, we must plan whether we shall live beside my dress shop or your dyehouse.”

“I’ve already begun transforming the shop. In fact, if you do not return, I fear the population of Stroud will soon have nothing to wear.”

“How could I say no to so many thoughtful valentines?”

“Does this mean you will come home?”

“My heart would break if I did not.” An aching swell rose in her throat. She wanted to express her gratitude for his love, for seeing the best in her when he had suffered at the hand of her worst impulses. She would make certain he knew that her love was as great as his, and she began proving her devotion with another kiss.

EPILOGUE

The letter was sealed with enough wax to sink a ship. Meg felt Peter against her back to get a better look.

“Is that from Bond Street?” he asked.

Meg relaxed into the calming nearness of him. “One of the most fashionable warehouses.”

He kissed her temple and returned to the table, taking up his kalam. “Read it to me?”

Meg read out loud the offer to purchase exclusive rights to their “collaborative designs,” her voice dimming with each paragraph. “Two thousand pounds for what they call the Stroud Method.”

“They’d best call it the Meg Sloan Method.”

“You flatter me. No one would give my gowns a second glance if not for your fabric.”

“I disagree but will not argue, lest you discover my uselessness and toss me out.” He looked up from the fabric he painted and tempted her with his dimples.

“If you continue showing off your smile, I will never finish this letter.”