However, when he returned with the bags I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had packed my sponge bag, a warm flannel nightdress and dressing gown and my tweed suit. She rose considerably in my estimation. In fact I felt quite warmly toward her. She’d be asleep right now in Kensington Palace, with fires in the rooms and hot chocolate whenever one rang a bell, while her mistress . . . I looked around the room again but words failed me. Darcy had undressed rapidly and looked ridiculously rakish in maroon silk pajamas. I felt shy about undressing in front of him, then reminded myself we were about to become Mr. and Mrs.

I turned away and unbuttoned my jacket. Then I remembered the dress had hooks down the back. I reached around but clearly they were impossible. Then a voice said, “Here, let me,” and he was unhooking them for me. I was horribly conscious of his hands touching my skin. He helped me out of the dress, then put his hands on my shoulders and kissed the bare back of my neck. It was an incredibly sexy gesture and on any other occasion I would have responded. But at this moment I was cold and tired and a little frightened. I turned to him and buried my head on his shoulder.

“Oh, Darcy, what are we doing here?” I asked, half laughing, half crying.

His arms came around me. “I wanted our first night together to be very different from this,” he said.

“We’ve spent nights together before,” I reminded him. “At least parts of nights.”

“I meant our first real night together,” he said. “You know what I meant. And we will certainly save that sort of thing for a better time. I bet that old bat will be listening for any creaks in the bedsprings.”

That made me laugh. I finished undressing, put my robe on over my nightclothes, then climbed into bed. The sheets were stiff and icy.

“It’s freezing,” I said through chattering teeth.

Darcy tiptoed around to turn off the light, and when he climbed into bed beside me the springs did indeed give an ominous twang that set both of us giggling like schoolchildren.

“That certainly rules out hanky-panky of any sort,” he said, still chuckling. He wrapped me in his arms. “Still freezing?” he asked.

“Better now,” I whispered. “Much better.”

Chapter 3

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30

Snowed in somewhere in the wilds of Yorkshire, on our way to elope to Gretna Green.

Golly, life is quite exciting these days!

The next morning we were woken by creaks and footsteps in the hallway, doors slamming and the sound of a motor starting up in the yard below. I was still lying in Darcy’s arms, his face a few inches from mine and his warm breath on my cheek. Darcy’s eyes opened; he looked at me and smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Chomondley-Fanshaw,” he said.