Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

“Well, I am now,” he said firmly. “I’m not the same man anymore. Not since I’ve met you. I love you, Jilly Jones. You’re the only woman I ever want to be with again.”

Jilly shook her head. “I don’t know if you understand. I’m staying in England. And so we can’t be together. I love you. But I can’t hide anymore.”

“I understand,” he replied softly. And he did. “But I have some news for you. It’s going to shock you, so perhaps you should take a seat.”

She stared at him a moment. “No,” she said. “Tell me now.”

He hesitated, as well. “If you’re certain.”

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. “Jilly Jones—”

“Jilly Broadmoor,” she said in a choked whisper.

He felt his eyes burn, just the merest fraction. “No,” he said, swallowing. “You’re not Mrs. Broadmoor.”

She looked at him as if he should be sent to Bedlam.

“Hector is married”—he hesitated—“but not to you. To someone else.”

Jilly flinched, but he took her shoulders and held her. “The charlatan was married eight years before he married you,” he said as kindly as he could.

She seemed to stare right through him.

He gave her a gentle shake. “It’s true,” he assured her. “I left him today after confronting him and his wife. He lives in Kensington. He was with you because he was evil. He was already married, but he wanted you as his property, as well.”

She gave a little cry.

Stephen gathered her into his arms. “He’s been taken to gaol.”

“What about his other wife?” Jilly whispered. “Is she all right?”

Stephen’s heart filled with more love for her than ever. “Don’t feel sorry for her. She knew about the whole arrangement. He was siphoning money off to her.”

Jilly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared at him with an intent gaze. “This still doesn’t change things between us. You’re only with me now because it’s easy. But when you had to choose me or life in England, you chose England.”

He nodded again, stricken at the memory. “I had a feeling you’d say that. But I’ve told you. I’m not the same man anymore. You were right—all those things you said about my not being willing to grow up made perfect sense. You’ll have to trust me that I resolved to try again to win you—come what may—before I knew this news about Hector. I can never prove it to you, otherwise. But it’s the reason I went after him. I’d decided that he deserved a comeuppance. And then I was going to come to you and ask your forgiveness. After that, I was going to ask you to move with me to Italy or America—or any other place you wanted to live.”

Her brow puckered, and he waited patiently.

“Will you trust me?” he said eventually.

She looked at the ground. Then she looked back up at him. “I’m sorry, but I need more time. I’m so confused.”

His heart clenched. He had so hoped that today, she’d be his again. But he understood. “I’m sure the news about Hector has completely thrown you.”

She nodded shakily. “There’s so much to think about. Can you wait?”

“Of course,” he said, not wanting to burden her with his fear of losing her. She really had had a shock, and he wasn’t going to compound it with his own worries. “Now go upstairs and see Otis. Tell him the wonderful news. And get a cup of tea.”

She gave a shaky laugh. And then for a moment her face was radiant—as if she finally comprehended the truth.

“You’re free, Jilly. Free.” He let go of her hand reluctantly and watched her walk to the door in the back. This was one battle he couldn’t win by being aggressive.

She opened the door, turned around, and looked at him one more time.

And then, smiling shyly, she shut the door behind her.

Dear God, he prayed, next time it opens, let her come to me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jilly realized that even though there was so much more fun to be had at their new special event now that the lease money wasn’t a problem anymore, they still had the biggest dilemma of all to solve—changing Dreare Street’s reputation.

She was pleased to see that not a single resident of Dreare Street dropped out of the new plan. Everyone, it seemed, still wanted Dreare Street to be known as a place of prosperity and good cheer.

The first thing they did was enact a name change, which they’d achieved with the permission of the Lord Mayor of London. Lady Duchamp blustered only a moment or two when the sign went up at the top of the street:

READER STREET, it read through wisps of fog.

“It’s the same letters as in Dreare but all jumbled around,” Thomas explained to Lady Duchamp. “We’ve got a bookshop here, so it makes sense. Especially because we’re all readers, right, my lady?”

And he held a book upside down to prove the point.

Jilly linked arms with Susan and laughed at that. Nathaniel put Thomas’s book down, picked him up, and swung him around.

Not long after, they enacted the next part of the plan, which was crucial to the success of their mission.

“There must be gossip,” Jilly reminded everyone later that day at Hodgepodge, “lots of gossip about a certain tea with, um, certain properties.”

She blushed. Every other woman in the room did, as well. But the men—the men had almost predatory looks in their eyes.

“When can we get some?” an elderly gentleman cried.

“Yes,” said Pratt, “I want some now.”

“I’m making a new batch this evening,” Mrs. Hobbs said, “just for the neighborhood.”

“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Hobbs. “I’m reopening my tea company, right here on Dreare—I mean, Reader Street. And we’ll specialize in this particular exotic blend of leaves from a remote corner of China.”

“We’ve had crates of various teas sitting around our house for six weeks now,” Mrs. Hobbs said, “ever since Mr. Hobbs shut down the company. I figured I’d at least try to do something with them.”

“I’m very glad you did,” her husband said smoothly. “At any rate, this tea is combined with Lavinia’s special extra ingredients—”

“I only add—” she began excitedly.

“Shush, my dear.” He patted her hand. “It must be our secret.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Hobbs looked well pleased. “Although I’m glad to share the final result.” She wagged a finger at the crowd. “And don’t forget, ladies. This tea is beneficial to all.”

“It’s what they call an aphrodisiac,” said Mr. Hobbs. “If Hobbs’s special blend doesn’t spark romance between you and the person you love, nothing will.”

All the women blushed again.

And the men pulled at their cravats or cleared their throats.

Jilly tried not to think of Stephen.

“Which is why,” she went on, “we needed to get the word out to the ton.” She looked at Miss Hartley.