Page 103 of A Convenient Fiction

“What happened?” Alex asked again. “Did he break your heart?”

“He never had my heart. What I felt for him was closer to schoolgirl infatuation than it was to love. After Papa died, I spent the year in mourning. George kept his distance. Out of respect, I thought at the time. The following December, when my mourning period was over, I went to Edgington Park for their annual Christmas ball. George spirited me out to the terrace. I thought he was going to ask me to marry him.”

“Instead, he asked you to be his mistress.”

“I wasn’t insulted. Not at first. I was too stunned. I remember staring at him, unable to formulate a single word. That was when he kissed me. If you can call it a kiss. He was very…forceful.”

Alex’s jaw hardened. “I should thrash him within an inch of his life.”

“Oh no. A slap was more than sufficient. Indeed, in the following days there were moments when I feared I’d broken my hand. I can only imagine what his cheek must have looked like.”

“You didn’t see him again?”

“No. He left not long after. Gone to London, his father said. I confess I was relieved. The idea of facing him…” She grimaced. “I still had my pride, after all.”

“You must have been shocked at his return last month.”

“Not shocked, no. Surprised, perhaps. It was unexpected.”

“I’m amazed you responded to Henrietta’s summons.”

“Why? It had been two years. Long enough for any hurt or embarrassment to have faded.” She pressed Alex’s hand. “In truth, I’ve actually come to be grateful for that kiss. It was decidedly lackluster. I knew in an instant that George wasn’t the man for me—childish infatuation or no.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Alex said. And then he laughed. “But who am I to talk?”

“You’re my husband.” She stretched up and kissed him, her lips clinging to his.

He drew her into a fierce embrace. “Laura… My dearest…” His breath was warm on her cheek. “You make me forget we’re on a public conveyance.”

“And you make me shameless,” she whispered.

“It’s my fault, is it?”

“Entirely.” She kissed him once more before settling back in her seat. “No matter. I expect we’ll arrive at our hotel soon.”

He gave her a piercing look. “Not soon enough.”

Grasse, France

September, 1860

They finally arrived in Nice long after night had fallen. Alex ordered dinner for them in their hotel room. It was more convenient after a day of traveling. Laura could take off her corset, and unpin her hair. He was becoming accustomed to a certain level of comfort with his wife. A certain sense of responsibility, too. She was his to look after. His to have and to hold, just as he’d promised when they stood up in front of the vicar.

A month ago, he might have laughed at the very idea of feeling the way he did. But now…Laura was everything.

When the footmen departed after delivering their luggage, she slipped her hands inside his frock coat, sliding her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair, his own arms encircling her tightly.

“Coach travel on roads like these should be outlawed,” she said. “My bones are aching.”

Alex couldn’t disagree. There was no direct rail access from Paris to the South of France. At Lyon, they had been obliged to disembark from the train and travel part of the way by coach. It hadn’t been a very comfortable journey. The last carriage had jostled them mercilessly as it navigated the hills, shaking and shuddering so badly it seemed the vehicle might collapse at the seams.

“Poor darling.” He moved his hand up and down over the curve of her spine. “I’ll order a hot bath for you.”

For the next half hour, hotel staff bustled in and out of their room, laying a table for dinner and carrying in a cast iron tub. When the last footman had gone, Alex and Laura shared the bath together—an intimacy Laura confessed she wouldn’t even have been able to contemplate a week before.

“How much things have changed,” she said as they ate a leisurely dinner in their dressing gowns.

“For the good, I hope.”