*Jayne*
Not think about what is to come? Has he gone stark raving mad? It’s all I have been able to think about since the meeting held in the sitting area of Seafort’s bedchamber at twenty-two minutes past three in the morning.
As I sink into the warm water in the tub set up near the fireplace, I wish that we had simply gotten it over with as I suggested. Instead, the specter of what is to happen later hangs over us.
Why did I agree to this? It isn’t too late to call for the carriage and begin the journey home, before any damage is done. But Barkley would correctly judge me a coward, and Seafort, drat him, would be disappointed.
During dinner last night, Seafort asked me to come to his bed.
“I do wish you’d reconsider your determination to take no pleasure in what is to come,” he had
