"You enjoyed it."
"I tolerated it."
"You enjoyed discussing horses with Edward."
"His knowledge is acceptable for a Coleridge."
"And you enjoyed showing Charles the Blake editions."
"He has good taste in poetry for someone without proper education."
"You like my brothers."
"I absolutely do not like your brothers."
"You invited Edward to see the stables."
"A moment of temporary insanity."
"You're already planning his visit."
"I'm considering it. There's a difference."
She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Admit it. They're not as bad as you thought."
"They're exactly as bad as I thought, but in different ways than expected."
"What does that mean?"
"It means they're loud, enthusiastic, and have no proper respect for tradition, but they're also intelligent, genuinelycare about you, and Edward knows his horses while Charles appreciates poetry. They're complicated."
"Most people are complicated."
"I prefer simple."
"No, you don't. You married me."
"You trapped me with your Coleridge wiles."
"My wiles?"
"The snorting laugh. The kindness to servants. The way you look in firelight. All clearly calculated to destroy my defenses."
"Clearly."
They stood there in the entrance hall, holding each other, and Alexander thought about how much had changed since that horrible wedding day. They'd gone from strangers to adversaries to... this. Whatever this was.
"I love you," he said suddenly, surprising himself with the admission.
Ophelia pulled back to look at him. "You do?"
"I said I was falling in love with you. Past tense now. Fallen. Completely fallen."
"When did you know?"
"Sometime between you helping me with my boots and Charles not breaking anything tonight. The exact moment is unclear."
"Very romantic."
