*Jayne*
I travel with Barkley in his coach. My carriage follows, my maid journeying inside. If anyone had asked me four weeks ago how I saw myself escaping from Barkley’s cottage, I would have said I envisioned racing away, never looking back, leaving him behind with all due haste, staring after me. I had imagined sprinting away because I couldn’t leave fast enough, wanting to be done with him.
Instead, I had found one excuse after another to delay my parting. Even knowing that Barkley would be traveling with me, I haven’t wanted to begin the journey home. Our time together has turned into something bittersweet. I’ve always believed that Seafort loves me; I still believe that to be true. But I’ve never before felt loved.
With Barkley, I do.
He holds me now, nestled against his side. I
