She was younger than he. But not a girl. Twenty-four, she had once told him. To histhirty-four,they were a good match. Seasoned by years in theton, he liked his friends, his peers, his colleagues, and, yes, many women in Society. She, too, seemed adroit with others. Today she’d met the prime minister with an aplomb that had not surprised him. He took it as her qualityto meet all types of people. He had seen that at other Society gatherings and simply accepted her skills.
He cupped her cheeks. “Listen to me. Promise me something, will you?”
She pressed her lips to his. She felt soft and warm and mellow as heaven, and he was such a callow boy to ask her this. But what the Ramseys had said bothered him as much as they had her. The damn piano here clouded his judgment, too.
“If ever I am wrong, if I come to false conclusions, do the worst thing, ignore the facts of a matter, you will call me out.”
She touched her fingertips to his cheeks, and he knew by the angelic look on her face that she touched his dimples. “I will always tell you when you are wrong. But you must tell me,” she said earnestly, knitting her blonde brows tightly together, “will that be often?”
He hugged her close. “No!”
“I didn’t think so. Now!” She scrambled to her feet, pointing toward the door. “Can we please leave here?”
Chapter Fifteen
Evan promised that their carriage ride would be brief.
Warmed by the carriage blanket, her husband’s fine French brandy, and his firm embrace, she enjoyed the hour and anticipated the act that would truly make her his wife.
“Do most couples in England travel away from others for what you call a honeymoon?” she asked.
“Some take a few weeks alone at home. Others go away. Some remain away longer, a month or more. Now that the wars are occurring on the Continent, no one travels so far. Most go to the country. Many need the time to get to know each other.”
Like us. She examined her new husband’s handsome, happy face. He knew so little about her, who she was, what she had done. But she wanted this marriage, short though it would be, to be strong, perfect for him. Getting away from London gave her strength. Perspective. She regained some of her stubbornness and a bit of valor. She would find a way to save him. Save them both, she hoped. So, she would devote herself to him and ensure he knew that she had come to him wishing that she could be his loving wife until their last breaths.
She had this sweet moment to make that impression on him. “We will do that.”
He refilled her glass with more Hennessy. “What is your favorite food?”
“Ah. How long is our carriage ride?”
“An hour or so.”
“I like good soft cheese from the Loire. Freshly baked bread. Our own estate’s white wine. Trout filleted and cooked in fresh butter and garlic.”
“And what is your favorite pastime?”
She lolled her head against his broad shoulder. “I play the fortepiano. You missed my performance at the Ashleys’. Perhaps there is an instrument where we go. Do you know?”
“I have no idea.” He regarded her as if he searched for something in her. “What do you like to play?”
“Brahms, Beethoven. Lully is lovely but very demanding.” She recalled the many evenings when she had played for the French general staff and the admiral of the French Atlantic fleet.
“I would like to hear you play.”
The way he searched her face left her wondering what he inquired of her. “Good. What would you like to hear?”
He gave a shrug, blinking and perhaps pushing away the questions he really wished to ask her. “Whatever you like. I will love it all.”
“Ah,mon cher, speak not too soon. I have not played regularly in many weeks.”
“No? Why is that?” A certain mystery appeared on his face once more.
“No time.”
“But you bought a piano recently for your house.”
“I did. It is a good German of high quality. I look forward to bringing it to your house.”
