Page 78 of Tears of Gold

His fingers tangle in my hair. “I love you so much, Faith.”

“And I love you, in ways I never believed possible.”

He pulls me back down, throwing the box onto the floor but keeping the tiny Babygro between us. “You know tomorrow we have to go and talk about our wedding plans?”

I nod. “Yes, I’ve had my diary pointed out to me.”

“But we haven’t talked about it ourselves. Not really.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. However we get married, it’s all just the same. I’ll keep the peace on this one thing.”

“Really?” he arches an eyebrow, “you keep the peace?”

“I can try,” I amend.

He pulls me closer, crushing the paper between us, his fingers trailing along my spine. “You must have dreamed of a wedding. All little girls do, don’t they? Peter and I used to laugh when we’d find little Tabitha using a net curtain as a veil and clutching a bunch of daisies.”

“Poor Tabitha, it really wasn’t fair growing up with two horrible, much older brothers.”

“Don’t dodge what I’m trying to say.”

I sigh and press my lips against the warm skin of his chest. Finally, when I know he won’t be able to stand my silence for much longer I speak.

“It probably seems silly but there’s a registry office in Brighton and it reminds me of an Austen novel. The type of place Captain Wentworth would have waited for Anne Elliot, or Mr Darcy would have upset Elizabeth Bennet. It’s Regency splendour. I guess it always spoke to a girl who liked to hide in books and believed in happily ever afters.”

I hide my face as he mulls over my words.

“Then you met me and now it will be less Regency splendour and more Hello magazine.”

I chuckle and it pushes us closer together, warm skin on warm skin. “I can put up with it if it means I get you at the end of it.”

“We should fight for your dreams.”

Lifting up onto my elbows, I meet his gaze. “I think I have enough to fight for at the moment. Let’s pick our battles. And anyway, does it even matter if I get to say, ‘I do,’ to you at the end of it? It doesn’t matter to me.”

He rolls me over and tucks me in tight. “Come, let's sleep, we need as much rest as we can get before tomorrow.”

He doesn’t finish and I’m already drifting away, dreaming of Eli dressed like Mr Wentworth and us sitting in a carriage drawn by horses heading into our happy forever after.

* * *

There is nothing about this that elicits Regency splendour and quiet restraint.

Jennifer has piles of paper across the conservatory. There are colour cards everywhere and samples of lace; I don’t even know what the lace is for.

“Now, darling, who have you chosen as your dress designer?”

“Um.” I glare at Eli who shifts uncomfortably.

“Good designers are booked up for months, but luckily the family name will sway most in favour of booking us.

It’s 'us' now is it?

“I’ve looked through so many, and I do believe this designer might be the one you like. He’s edgy, but romantic, and I think it will be a good fit.”

Jennifer thrusts a glossy booklet at me and waits expectantly. “Well, I don’t think I should look with Elijah sat right there.” I laugh but it’s more than forced.

“Nonsense, darling, I need to know whether you like him as I have an appointment booked for tomorrow. I’ve asked Saskia to come with us.”