“You do not want to have children.”
“No.”
“At all.”
“At all.”
“But—”
“There are reasons, Alice.”
“What reasons?”
“They are not reasons I will share at Hyde Park with your chaperone fifty yards behind us, your sister fifty yards behind your chaperone, and Lord Marbury—yes, I have seen Lord Marbury on the bridle path on the far side of those trees, and I shall have words with him later about it—within hailing distance.”
“You will not have words with Lord Marbury.”
“I will have words with Lord Marbury.”
“He is twenty-years-old and has no sense.”
“He had quite enough sense to dance with you last night with his hand half an inch higher on your back than the dance required, Alice, so I will?—”
“Your Grace, you are changing the subject.”
He stopped.
He had been speaking quickly, almost heatedly, and now, he stopped abruptly, like a man who has been caught at something.
He drew in a shaky breath. “Alice.”
“Your Grace.”
“I do not want to have children. It is not something I will be swayed on. I am sorry.”
“I—”
“Lady Alice!”
It was Sally. She appeared at the edge of the plane trees, slightly breathless from walking fast over uneven ground, and behind her was Daphne. Behind Daphne, in the middle distance, was a small dark shape on the river path that Alice was almost certain was Lord Marbury on horseback. He had, in fact, raised his hand in greeting.
“There you are, My Lady,” Sally said, hurrying over. “We had better go back home. Look at the clouds. We will be rained on if we are not quick.”
She was looking at Cassian as she said it with the particular attention of a lady’s maid who had been with her mistress since the latter was nine and who had in sixteen years learned to read the small change in her mistress’ face that indicated she did not like what she had been told.
“Of course, Sally,” Alice heard herself say. “We shall come at once.”
She did not move.
Cassian did not move either. He was, she registered with a part of her mind that was not currently doing the work of standing upright, looking at her with an expression that she had not seen on him before and that she did not, on the whole, wish to be looking at. Because if she kept looking at it, she was going to cry, and crying was not a thing she did, especially not among plane trees in Hyde Park in front of her maid.
She lifted her chin. “Your Grace.”
“Lady Alice.”
“It seems we have run out of time this morning.”
“It seems we have.”
