Chapter 57
Morning sunlight streamed softly through the bedroom curtains, casting golden threads across the coverlet.
Abigail stirred first, the hush of early day wrapping around her like a shawl.
The air was already warm—a reminder that summer had settled over London—but a faint breeze stirred through the slightly open window.
She didn’t reach for the blanket.
Instead, she shifted slightly on the pillow, careful not to disturb Jasper who lay on his stomach, his face half-buried in the pillow, his breathing slow and even. In sleep, he looked younger—less burdened, less haunted. And more than that, he looked hers.
Abigail exhaled quietly, letting her head rest against her arm as she watched him.
For what felt like the first time in nearly two years, her thoughts weren’t clouded with fear or anger or pain. The wounds he had left her with hadn’t disappeared—but they no longer throbbed constantly. Some had scarred. Others were still healing. But all of them, in time, she was sure, would fade.
And she was beginning—truly beginning—to believe that she would be whole again. That they might be whole again.
She smiled faintly, her gaze drifting toward the window, where sunlight danced across the floorboards.
They needed space. Not from each other—but from London. From its ballrooms and gossip and scrutiny. From all that was past.
She would choose the seaside villa, she’d decided. The one Jasper had once intended for their honeymoon. It would be peaceful there. Gentle. Emmeline would love the sea air and the soft sand.
And after that... Roselawn. Her parents planned to travel to Lyndhurst once they left London and would remain there for the holidays, so it would be nice to be close to them
again. She knew she and Emmeline would miss them—so used to seeing them almost
daily since Bramblewick. She could already picture Emmeline running across the fields between the two estates, her laughter echoing through the meadow.
Yes. They could stay until spring, at least.
"She had taken the opportunity the previous day to speak with her mother—and with Mrs. Rigby, too. Martha had agreed, with misty eyes and a soft smile, to remain with them officially as Emmeline’s nanny."
All that remained was to tell him.
Abigail looked back at Jasper.
His eyes were just beginning to open. He adjusted his body to lie on his side when he noticed she was awake and facing him.
Before he could speak, she leaned in and kissed him softly.
“I was thinking,” she said, her voice still hushed from sleep, “that once the Season ends, we could go to the seaside villa. The one you meant for our honeymoon. And then Roselawn—my parents will be at Lyndhurst after the Season, so we could go there closer to the holidays. Stay until spring, even. I think it would be good for Emmeline.”
She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his.
“I’ve already spoken with my mother. And with Mrs. Rigby—she’s agreed to come with us. She’ll stay on as Emmeline’s nanny.”
Her smile grew as her thoughts spilled out.
“I’m looking forward to taking Emmeline to see our childhood homes. I just know she’ll love running through the fields between the estates.”
Abigail laughed softly, her gaze distant with memory.
“When we were last there, we talked about our children playing in those fields. Do you remember? I think Emmeline will make it her mission to pick every single flower—and expect you to turn them all into crowns. She’s been absolutely fascinated ever since you made her that first one.”
Jasper blinked once, then twice, and smiled, his voice rough with sleep.
“Did I not even get a ‘good morning’ from my wife before she started firming up our future plans?”
Abigail grinned and leaned in to kiss him again. “Good morning.”
He smiled against her lips, then nudged her nose with his. “Now… what was it you said about the seaside? And flower crowns?”
She pulled the sheet around them and nestled closer to his side. “What do you think?”
Jasper didn’t answer right away. He just reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and looked at her for a long, quiet moment.
Then he said, “I think it sounds perfect.”
Abigail rested her head against his chest, her voice content and certain.
“So do I.”