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With trembling hands, she picked it up and admired it. It was so very lovely. The chain consisted of tiny diamonds and in the center was the largest sapphire that she had ever beheld, cut into the shape of a heart. It shed glittering light as she turned it around.
“You are too kind,” she stammered, feeling overwhelmed. The necklace was clearly very expensive. The sapphire alone would be worth the whole of London’s mint. It must have cost him a small fortune. “I…I do not know what to say.”
He reached for the necklace and placed it around her neck. With steady fingers, he fastened it. And then, he slowly placed his hands upon her shoulders, gazing at her in the mirror.
“I knew it would suit you,” he whispered, squeezing her shoulders gently. “Do you like it?”
Slowly, she reached up and touched the sapphire. She could almost feel it radiating heat, as if it was alive.
“I love it,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “It is the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever given me. I shall always treasure it.”
Their eyes met and locked in the mirror. She felt the pressure of his hands upon her shoulders. It was as if they were in some kind of bubble. The connection between them suddenly wavered so strongly that it was almost crushing. She felt a short, sharp shock right in the middle of her chest.
She could see that he felt it too, by the sudden widening of his eyes. Abruptly, he released his grip on her shoulders. Patricia exhaled, feeling dangerously close to swooning.
“I am so very glad you like it,” he said slowly. “Tomorrow I shall show you all the official pieces that are now yours as Duchess of Merriweather. There is some magnificent jewellery in the collection.” He hesitated, looking almost embarrassed. “You may wear them whenever you like. But I wanted to give you something, that was just between us…”
Her blush deepened. “I am very glad that you did. As I said, I shall always treasure it.”
He looked pleased. “Very good. Well, I shall leave you to finish dressing for the evening.”
Without another word he walked to the adjoining door to his chamber.
Patricia tried to swallow a thick lump in her throat. The tears were threatening to fall. Fiercely, she held them back. She shouldn’t cry. Sally was still in the room; besides, the maid had just finished applying darkened ash to her eyelashes. If she cried now, she would ruin the effect and end up looking like a circus clown.
The maid stepped forward, reaching for hairpins. Patricia took a deep, calming breath.
“What a beautiful necklace, your Grace,” she said, smiling at her in the mirror. “I must say, on behalf of all the servants, how pleased we all are that the Duke picked you as a wife.” The maid hesitated. “We were a bit wary, considering the wedding happened so quickly, but now we know why. It is clear that the Duke is violently in love with you, and you with him. Why wait when it is clear how it is between a man and a woman?”
Patricia smiled at the maid in the mirror, so touched, that she did not know what to say for a moment. The tears were threatening to fall once again.
“Thank you, Sally,” she whispered. “Truly. It warms my heart, to hear such words of welcome.”
The maid nodded briskly, resuming her duties. Patricia stared at herself in the mirror. The new necklace glittered in the candlelight, as if it were shooting off sparks.
She felt as if she were glowing, too. As if there was a fire within her. She knew that the maid spoke out of kindness, not really knowing anything of what was between her and Jackson, but even the mere mention that her new husband was violently in love with her filled her with pure joy.
Her throat tightened. If only it could be true. If only their obvious connection could deepen into love. If only there was not something standing in the way of it.
* * *
Jackson opened the door to Patricia’s chambers. He had left her to undress after their night at the theatre and retreated to his own chambers. He had been pacing the floor in there, so eager to touch her and make love to her again that he could barely stand it. He had counted down the minutes, until he thought she would be ready.
He gazed around the room. She was already in bed, resting upon her side, wearing her white nightgown. Her golden hair was loose and spread out upon the pillow.
She was fast asleep.
A wave of disappointment washed over him. He had realized how tired she was when they had been at the theatre. She had been discreetly yawning behind her hand. When he had leant over and whispered to her about it, she had looked a little embarrassed. In the carriage ride home, her eyes had been drooping.
He hesitated. He should leave her to get a good night’s rest. There was always tomorrow night. And the night after that. She was his wife now. She washis. They could make love whenever they wished.
He gazed at her, unable to move an inch. How beautiful she was in repose. He had thought so this morning when he had left her sleeping, and he thought the same thing now.
Jackson couldn’t help himself. He climbed into the bed beside her, nestling into her back. She stirred but didn’t wake.
Gently, hesitantly, he stroked her hair. How lovely it was. Like spun gold. And it felt like silk. He knew he could probably stay like this for hours, just caressing her hair. Just gazing at her in pure wonder; this woman was his wife.
She stirred again. A soft intake of breath.
