Page 52 of POX

When Thomas had ordered and we were sipping our drinks at a table in the corner, he asked, ‘So you never told me how it went with Jeremy. Did he cry and beg you not to leave?’

‘No crying, but there was a little bit of begging.’

Thomas gave the briefest of smiles. ‘How do you feel about leaving? Bereft?’

Thomas was a confident guy, but even I could tell he was subtly checking that I was over Jeremy. He didn’t have to worry.

‘Strangely enough, not really. I was sadder finishing Mercy’s memoir and packing it away, knowing that it was going to sit on a shelf in a library archive and no one else might read it for decades.’

‘Yeah, that is slightly depressing.’

‘At least she’ll get a mention in Jeremy’s book. I gave him a ton of notes highlighting how the pox had affected her life, physically and emotionally. So hopefully, they make it into the final version, though I didn’t put too much detail about Jasper.’

‘What happened with her and him in the end?’ asked Thomas curiously.

‘Well, after nearly raping Rose, he tried to kill Mercy. But she managed to get away from him.’

Thomas shook his head. ‘Jesus, that dude. He needed to be locked up.’

‘It all turned out OK. She moved to Venice, married a rich count, and had two children. And she wrote a book to comfort people suffering from unrequited love. It helped me at the time to know that someone else had been through it too. I’m glad I’m cured, though. That you cured me.’

‘You’re welcome. It was a tough assignment, but one I gladly undertook, especially since it helped you get over your sex phobia.’ Thomas’s mouth quirked. ‘But I’m glad to hear that Mercy found happiness and fulfilment in the end.’ He tipped his cup to finish the dregs of his latte. ‘Hey, do you want to come to my place for dinner? You’ll have to excuse the mess in the kitchen, though. I haven’t tidied for a few days.’

I hid a smile, thinking that however messy Thomas thought his kitchen was, it would never in a million years rival Jeremy’s pigsty.

‘Definitely,’ I said happily. ‘And I can tell you all about my new project.’

‘Yeah, I’ve been wanting to hear about that. Sounds awesome,’ he said, nuzzling his cheek against mine.

Of the many and varied things I loved about Thomas Coggeshall, the one I loved most was that he enjoyed discussing history. He didn’t even mind if it spilled over to pillow talk. That night, after making sweet, passionate love, we had a long and in-depth discussion about Anne Boleyn. But I knew he indulged me in my latest obsession with the Tudor queens because he loved me, and knowing that he reciprocated my feelings was a daily joy. Just like Mercy over two centuries ago, I had seized freedom with both hands and discovered that true love did indeed await at my journey’s end.

~ THE END ~

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