But he didn’t move.
“Delia.” His arms were shaking. He touched his lips to hers. “I cannot take this from you.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Not because I don’t want to. You know I want to.” Jack chuckled at the understatement of the year. “Look at me.”
She met his gaze, her brown eyes shining, a tear hovering on the thick lashes.
“I need…” he began. “Someday, you’ll be grateful that you still have this.”
She swallowed hard.
“You’re too damn sweet for your own good…” Jack shook his head. He wasn’t accustomed to confusion. He didn’t quite understand it. “I can’t take your virtue. It’s your future. It would be wasted on me.” His throat thickened.
Finally, she nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”
Drawing on his last vestiges of honor, if he could even call it that at this point, Jack dropped onto the bed beside her and then tugged her back against his chest.
Angry with himself but unwilling to leave her thoroughly disappointed, Jack drifted his hand down between her legs. “But that doesn’t mean we I can’t help out with those silver linings.”
And he made sure that her morning was as memorable as the night before had been.
Nine
The two of them spent the entire morning locked away in their chamber, in bed, specifically. Jack hadn’t shown any signs that he was anxious to leave until his driver knocked on the door, requiring his opinion regarding Reliable, who’d apparently thrown a shoe.
By the time Jack returned from the stables, Delia had dressed and was about to go downstairs to see about sending a message to Lady St. Vincent.
When he appeared, Delia thought he’d been about to take her in his arms again, but he’d checked himself, giving her a sad smile instead.
“Is he going to be all right?” she asked, and at his confused expression, added, “Your horse?”
“Just needs a new shoe. The blacksmith is working on it now, and with any luck, we’ll be able to leave within a few hours.”
Delia forced herself to smile.
“That’s lucky, then.”
“It is.” But he dipped his head, fixing his gaze on her while at the same time pressing a heavy velvet pouch into her hand. “There’s a mercantile nearby. Purchase a few frocks. You can’t arrive at that new employer of yours with only one gown.” He was leaving, then. “They might even carry some spectacles that will work for you,” he added.
“I can’t.” Delia lowered her lashes and stared at the buttons of his jacket. “We said no money.”
“It’s my fault you need them in the first place. It wouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes for me to go back for your belongings.” He folded her fingers around the small purse.
“You had our lives to consider at the time. I’m the one who owes you.”
Ignoring her attempt to refuse his money, he drew a slip of paper from his pocket. “Take my direction. If you need anything, if you’ve spent too much money on a pair of gloves again, or, God forbid, end up stranded in another blizzard…” The corner of his mouth lifted in what he may have intended to be a smile. “Send for me.”
Delia tucked it into the pocket of her coat. And she accepted the money as well.
Because he was right, she couldn’t show up at Lady St. Vincent’s with only one gown to wear—a bedraggled and torn one at that.
She would pay him back every penny—eventually. But knowing how to reach him posed a problem she’d not expected.
In a weak moment, she might imagine he’d wish to see her again. But of course, he didn’t. They’d known one another for less than twenty-four hours.
Last night—and this morning—had been… unforgettable.