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A grumble rose in Nancy’s throat at Fitz’s high-handedness. Simon said she’d have a choice.

She decided to feign sleep and hear what her erstwhile intended had to say.

“I believe I sent over some tea,” Fitz said. “If we can heat some water.”

“I fetched some from the cistern last night.” Simon shuffled around, and opening her eyes a slit, she saw him stirring the fire and hanging a pot.

“Waited on by a duke,” Fitz murmured.

Long moments passed in silence as chairs shifted and dishes clinked. Mother’s skirts swished as she bustled around; chairs creaked, silverware tinkled, and Simon murmured “only sugar.”

“A common license, I think,” Mother said. “You may ride to the bishop today.”

Desire warred with worry. A common license meant that, in a mere seven days, she’d be married.

“With my utmost respect, my lady,” Simon said, “no. Nancy and I have talked. I will court her. We will call the banns. Meanwhile, I will escort her to Birmingham to see my property near there and to visit her friend. We will need a chaperone, and I would like that person to be you, Lady Loughton.”

Heart soaring, Nancy held her breath through the silence that followed.

“If,” Simon continued, “after our courtship, Nancy is willing to marry, we’ll have the wedding here, and then travel on to the south of France for our honeymoon. I have a villa there.”

“And if she isn’t willing?” Mother’s voice trembled with indignation.

“She may cry off.” Simon said. “It will give her time to know that… to know that I truly do care for her. She may give me my congé, but I feel hopeful she won’t.”

“Well-played, Swillingstone,” Fitz said.

“I’m not playing, Loughton. I love Nancy.” A loud thud followed, like a fist hitting the table.

“Simon.” Nancy emerged from the twisted blankets. No matter how jumbled her emotions, she’d best intervene before fists flew in earnest.

She clutched the front of her shirt closed and brushed a hand over her tangled hair. It must be writhing about like Medusa’s mane, but there was nought she could about it now. At least the shirt she’d borrowed from James covered her almost to her knees and her trousers still covered the rest.

While Mother’s frown deepened, and Fitz pressed his lips on what she could see would be a grin, Simon escorted her to the table and made her a cup of tea.

When she pushed a lock of hair back, the shirt flapped open.

Mother’s eyes narrowed on a spot on her neck that Simon had given particular attention last night, and this time Fitz did chuckle.

She hurriedly pulled the shirt flaps together over what must be a spot chafed by Simon’s beard.

“I was just asking your mother if she’d chaperone us when we visit Marston Green,” Simon said oblivious to the reactions of her family.

Nancy nodded. She wasn’t oblivious—couldn’t afford to be, if she was truly to have a choice as Simon promised.

“Good morning, Mama. Fitz. Now you are here, I suppose we must talk. Firstly, you must know that Simon has been a perfect gentleman. I am still a virgin.”

Mother gasped and color rose in her cheeks. No doubt she had a different idea of what constituted gentlemanly behavior.

“And secondly, I am going to Birmingham with Simon. He has promised I’ll be chaperoned, but if you don’t wish to come, Mama, perhaps Mr. Smith can hire a genteel lady to accompany us.”

“Of course,” Fitz said. “The plan is eminently sensible. You’ll both go to Birmingham and Mother will go with you, won’t you, Mother?”

She felt the squeeze of Simon’s hand, realizing she’d reached for him. He beamed a smile at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“We can travel there today and arrive before nightfall,” Simon said. “What say you, Nancy?”

He was asking her. Giving her a choice.

It was the journey she’d planned for this day anyway, though what she’d contemplated would have been far less comfortable. Not to mention, she’d have been missing the company of a handsome duke.

“ Nancy ,” her mother prodded.

Her mother would be there as well, keeping her from falling head over ears into the soup with Simon. So once the last banns had been read, she’d have a choice.

She knew what her choice would be but she’d take him up on his offer of time to know him better.

Fitz stood. “Now, I understood you packed a bag and carried it over here yesterday. Have you a proper gown here?”

“I do.”

“Then off you go and find it. Get dressed, and Mother will walk you home while Simon and I follow behind and speak about arrangements. If you’re to leave this morning, we’ll have to hurry.”

When she stood, Simon jumped up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Until later,” he said, a smile lighting his face.

Warmth bloomed, kindling memories of his touch and his tenderness the night before, of his kindness years earlier. She went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his ear. “I love you too, Simon.”

“Nancy,” mother chided.

Simon’s arms engulfed her in a hug that was all too brief.

“Go and dress,” he said.

“Is that an order, your grace?”

Simon blinked.

“Shall you spin me around and send me off with a slap on my bottom?” she whispered. “And say, ‘get you gone’?”

His eyes flared and then he laughed, draping an arm over her shoulder and escorting her to the bedchamber door where he took both of her hands and raised them to his lips.

“Minx,” he whispered. “If it’s a spanking you want, my love, I’ll certainly oblige.

But not in front of your mother and brother. ”

Mama stood frowning while Fitz’s hand covered what she knew to be a smile. With a parting kiss, she slipped through the door to dress for the first day of her new role as Simon’s beloved.