Page 51

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Much better.’ She poured herself a cup of tea, and he passed her the milk and sugar. ‘What are your plans for today?’

‘Nothing thus far. I am meeting with Mr Thompson this afternoon. What about you?’ He spread the apricot jam over a bun and suddenly noticed that, despite what she’d said about feeling better, she had eaten very little. Toast and tea, so it seemed.

‘I thought I would go shopping this morning. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in London.’ Hastily, she added, ‘But you needn’t worry. I’m not asking you to come along.’

Normally, he would have been grateful for that. But after her unexpected illness last night, he didn’t truly want her walking around London without adequate protection.

‘What is it you need to buy?’

She shrugged. ‘I haven’t decided yet. A new morning gown, perhaps.’

‘Would you prefer it if the modiste came here to take your measurements? Isn’t that the way it’s usually done?’ He seemed to recall that his mother had never gone out to the shops—seamstresses came to her instead.

‘Oh, it’s not about the gown. I enjoy walking and browsing in the shops,’ she said. ‘There is so much to see in town. I particularly enjoy watching people.’

‘Who do you plan to accompany you?’

‘Moreen will come along,’ she answered. ‘You needn’t worry. We will be safe enough on Bond Street, and we will be back before midday.’

‘Take two footmen with you,’ he advised.

‘Of course.’ She stood from her chair and offered a mischievous smile. ‘Perhaps I’ll buy you more socks if you’re good.’ Her remark held an undertone of teasing that caused a flare of desire inside him.

She brushed her hand against his shoulder. The light touch might have been accidental, or it might have been an intentional caress.

Alaric wasn’t thinking at all about shopping any more—his interest was entirely fixed upon her. Right now, he wanted to pull his wife into his lap and distract her. She smelled delicious, like some sort of exotic flower he didn’t recognise.

‘I can be very good, Charlotte,’ he responded in a dark voice, catching her palm.

She offered a knowing smile. ‘I will see you later, Alaric.’

He continued holding her hand, holding it for the barest fraction. His thumb grazed the edge of her palm. ‘What would you say if I changed my mind and accompanied you?’ After a pause, he added, ‘I might pick out my own socks.’

Her eyes warmed and a smile lit up her face. ‘I would be glad of your company.’

He couldn’t believe he was suggesting this, but then again, he didn’t like the idea of his wife going out with just a maid and two footmen. As a duchess, she needed more protection.

He intended to watch over her, himself.

An hour later, Alaric was walking alongside his wife on Bond Street while she kept her arm in his. ‘Look on the opposite side of the street. Do you see the gentleman walking beside that lady?’

He glanced over. ‘Yes.’

‘Her father is arranging her betrothal to Lord Harrowby.’

‘Isn’t Harrowby old enough to be her grandfather?’ he wondered aloud.

‘Yes,’ Charlotte whispered, ‘but even worse is that she’s actually in love with Mr Brown. There. Can you see the way she’s looking at him?’ She added, ‘I wonder what she’ll do.’

He’d never actually indulged in gossip before, but it seemed that his wife was fascinated by it. ‘Doesn’t she have to wed Harrowby if her father is arranging it?’

She leaned into his ear. ‘Not if she allows Mr Brown to compromise her.’

He whispered back, ‘Charlotte Wyndham, how can you speak of something so scandalous?’ His thumb grazed her gloved hand as he stared at her. He was only teasing her, and she knew it from the way she was smiling.

‘I am sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Your Grace.’