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  Much later, when both their chests heaved from the kisses and the desperate need for air, he cradled her in his lap. “How glad I am your friend Charlotte and her husband decided to play matchmaker.”

  The delightful fog in her mind dissolved and she stopped snuggling in his arms. “What?” She leaned back to look into his face.

  He nodded. “I found out when I met Lindsell at Chelmsford.”

  Hank’s jaw had hung low as the earl described his and his wife’s machinations to bring him and Emily together. Their scheme had involved sending Emily to Turnip Cottage and inviting Hank to visit them in Lindsell. But they hadn’t forseen the difficulty of convincing Hank to accept the invitation.

  “Lindsell said he wished more members of Parliament were half as conscientious as I. He issued quite a few invitations, but I was always busy trying to get the Corn Laws repealed. No one would listen to me, so all I did was waste my time, stubborn fool that I am.” He would have stayed in town even longer, but the food riots changed his mind.

  “But why did they decide we might suit?”

  He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. His eyes were tender with love. “The countess suspected you were in love with me.”

  “But how?” she moaned. “I never told her so.” Embarrassment heating her cheeks, she turned away and covered her face with her hands.

  With a gentle touch to her shoulders, he turned her back to him and drew her hands from her face. “She said you spoke of me often and warmly. So often, and so warmly, she suspected your feelings ran much deeper than childhood friendship.” His smile quirked up into a grin. “And since I was unattached, and she had never liked Miss Clark, she decided to throw us together.”

  “How could I have been so obvious?”

  “You were not. Even today I was unsure, until you agreed to marry me.” He gathered her hands into his and kissed each palm. “Please, do not be vexed with them. They meant well.” He pulled her closer and rested his chin on her head. “And their scheme worked.” His lips again nuzzled her ear and neck as he made his way to the top of her now unbuttoned bodice. She shivered as the abating excitement increased again. But she had one more question.

  “What about the pumpkinnappers? Did the earl send them, too?”

  He raised his head, his expression pure irritation. “No, he did not. They were unexpected in his little plan. The instant I saw him, I upbraided him for leaving you alone and unprotected.”

  The earl, his face growing darker as Hank spoke, had let Hank blister his ears for some ten minutes before raising a hand to stop him. He was not such a knave as to leave women alone and unprotected, he told Hank. His steward sent him weekly reports on the tenants and had indicated nothing amiss. But he had been traveling for the past week, and had not received the latest letter. The earl had immediately dispatched a message to his steward, directing the man to conduct Emily to Lindsell House posthaste.

  “The steward must have told Charlotte, because she invited me over the day you left.”

  He nodded. “I shall be forever grateful to them because they brought us together. But, now,” he said as he swooped in for another kiss, “forget them.”

  He kissed her again and again, long, slow kisses that left her boneless in his arms. Finally, her eyes half closed, she rested her head on his shoulder, a long, happy sigh escaping her.

  “Come now, what have we here?” His fingers brushed the moisture on her face. “Please, no crying. I want to make you happy.”

  “These tears are happy.” She sniffed. “I have never been happier in my life.”

  “Well, I know how to deal with watering pots.” He shifted her on his lap and reached into his coat pocket. His brow furrowed. He reached into his breeches pocket. His hand returned empty. One corner of his mouth quirked up and a sheepish grin creased his face. “Em, I lost my handkerchief.”

  “Oh, Hanky!” She threw her arms around his neck, and he rocked backward on the settee as she gave him a loud, smacking kiss. “Never change. I love you exactly the way you are.”

  He guffawed and made fake choking sounds, pretending her grip was strangling him, and she squealed when he tickled her. Breathless with laughter, they collapsed against the settee back, when she caught a glimpse of movement in the pumpkin patch. She sat up straight and angled around him to peer out the window. “Someone is outside.”

  He wound his arm around her waist to prevent her from falling as they both leaned towards the window. Two bent-over figures, one tall and one short, crept along the row of pumpkins.

  She slipped out his grasp. Laughing, she evaded his lunge as he grabbed at her, and ran to the front window. She propped her hands on the windowsill and pressed her nose to the glass. “Now where is that Henry when you need him?”

  He came up behind her and snorted, pointing to the corner of the house. A mass of white feathers rose and fell gently in the hutch. “Asleep on the job.”

  She caught one of his hands and tugged. “Come, now is our chance to catch them.”

  He tugged back. She lost her balance and he looped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She squeaked as he planted a wet, noisy kiss on her lips.

  “Let them have the pumpkin. Next year you can plant all my land in pumpkins, if you wish. Tonight is for us.” He kissed her again. Then, before she could protest, he lifted her high against his chest and strode towards the stairs.

  Far from Turnip Cottage, Jack and Cornelius sheltered under a spreading elm at the woods’ edge. Branches creaked overhead and a few blobs of moisture dripped onto their heads. High above, the whistling wind blew the ragged clouds away from the stars.

  Jack’s lips twitched into a smug grin as he examined his new lantern. The hell-coal gleamed bright, illuminating the face he had carved in the pumpkin’s side.

  “Weel. Be ye happy with your punkin?” The lantern light tinged Cornelius’s face orange as he bent forward to inspect the pumpkin.

  “Yes, indeed.” Jack sat back against the trunk and pulled a handkerchief from his ragged pocket. By the light of the lantern and the few twinkling stars peeping amid the cloud remnants, he gazed with satisfaction at the handkerchief’s fused HG monogram before he mopped his brow. “I am most pleased with this night’s work.”

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