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She blinked. “But you gave me to understand that you did not want me to be your wife, that you had gone so far as to search for a way out of our marriage contract.”

“A month ago, I would have owned to those claims.” Sebastian braced himself. “Today, I find myself feeling immense gratitude for my father’s wisdom and foresight.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Sebastian. Tell me what you really mean.”

His straightened his shoulders. A straightforward approach to communication was considerably easier when he was discussing theories of motion, the calculation of mass, or the passage of a bill in Parliament. “I feel very fortunate to have you as my wife.”

“Fortunate?”

When she repeated the word, it sounded dull and impersonal—and not at all right.

“Blast it all, Rosalind, I do not know how to say what I mean. I simply know that the happiest hours I’ve had in a long time are the ones I’ve spent with you. Ever since we were married, you are in my thoughts when I go to bed, and you are still there when I arise.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. Had he distressed her further? He’d been a fool to try to communicate his feelings when he had yet to understand them himself. Rosalind shifted forward in her seat. Setting her hand on the side of the moving carriage, she stood and took an unsteady step. The carriage rolled over a bump in the road, and she dropped onto the seat beside him. He smelled the hint of jasmine that always accompanied her, and his breath caught.

“Rosalind?”

Her fingers touched his. He opened his hand, and she slipped hers into it.

“Perhaps we should try eating dinner together again,” she said.

He looked at her. Her smile was tentative, but the light had returned to her eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand. “I should like that very much.”

“As would I,” she said.

The Finley Park portico came into view through the carriage window, and the vehicle rolled to a stop. A footman appeared at the door. Sebastian rather wished he had not. But it was raining still, and no one—Marcus included—wished to stand outside waiting for too long. Sebastian released Rosalind’s hand to exit the carriage and then immediately reclaimed it to assist her out. Lowering his head against the driving rain, he led her into the house.

Vickers was there to greet them. “May I take your hat and coat, Your Grace?”

“Yes. Thank you, Vickers.” Sebastian handed him his hat.

“And you, Your Grace?” The butler turned to Rosalind.

“Thank you, but no. I believe I am sufficiently wet that an entire change of wardrobe is in order. I shall have Polly assist me.”

Vickers bowed. “Very good, Your Grace.”

Rosalind slipped her hand from Sebastian’s. “Would a five o’clock dinner time meet with your approval?” she asked.

“It would.” Truth be told, if she’d suggested midnight, he would have agreed. He would not—could not—betray her trust again.

She smiled, and his heart lifted. “Until then, Your Grace.”

He waited until she was partway up the stairs before turning to Vickers once more. “If I am not standing outside the dining room door at ten minutes before five o’clock, you are to retrieve me from my workshop. If, by any chance, I am not there, take my pistol from the study and fire a warning shot over the housetop.”

Had Sebastian not known better, he would have sworn that Vickers chuckled. But the staid butler hid his face with a bow.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

* * *

Rosalind paced across her small sitting room, glanced at the clock, and started back the other direction again. Her anxiety was beyond ridiculous. Since the day Sebastian had walked into Langton House, they had spent many hours in each other’s company. She had laughed and cried with him. They had each listened and talked, danced and walked. And yet, this evening’s dinner felt as though it was to be their very first time together. She checked the clock again and released a shuddering breath.

“It is time, Polly. Will I do?”

“You look ever so pretty, Your Grace.” Polly’s gaze moved from Rosalind’s floral peach-colored gown to the elaborately pinned curls she had worked on for so long. “I’ve never seen the like. And I’d wager His Grace hasn’t either.”

Rosalind refrained from mentioning that Sebastian had seen ballrooms full of young ladies dressed far more elegantly than she was presently. Now was not the time to test her young maid’s loyalty; she simply needed a small measure of her confidence. “Thank you for all your help,” she said.