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‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment. I don’t suppose anyone’s ever called your Mr Felstone mad.’
She gave him a reproachful look. ‘He’s not my Mr Felstone and they’ve called him lots of other things.’
He snorted derisively. ‘Anyone can get a bad reputation. It takes a lot more commitment to be called mad as well.’
She laughed as a pair of kitchen maids appeared carrying plates of winter salad and a basket of fresh bread.
‘May I?’ Lance pulled out a chair for her.
‘Thank you.’ She sat down and spread a napkin over her lap. ‘I was so engrossed in my books that I missed lunch. I didn’t realise how hungry I was.’
‘I see you’ve been eating well.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her hand wavered in mid-air as she reached for a piece of bread.
‘Just that you look well.’
‘Because I’m bigger?’
‘I didn’t mean...’ He took the chair opposite, wincing at his own tactlessness. ‘I meant that you look better.’
She held his gaze suspiciously for a moment and then smiled. ‘It’s funny, Ianthe’s the one who’s having a baby and I’m the one who looks like I am. I won’t fit into any of my dresses soon.’
‘Good. You were far too thin before. I’ve never understood why some women compete to wear the tightest corsets. Whoever invented the garment clearly didn’t like your sex very much.’
She looked mildly shocked. ‘Are you allowed to mention corsets in polite conversation?’
‘Probably not, but then, you are my wife. Surely we can keep etiquette for other, less agreeable occasions?’
‘All right.’ Her lips curved upwards. ‘Then I have to admit I agree with you. They can be very uncomfortable.’
‘Hence the dressing gown?’ He winked. ‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t wear them at all when you’re at home. As part of your pursuit of freedom, I mean.’
Her expression became incredulous. ‘You don’t think I should wear underclothes?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, you can wear as much or as little as you want. A modest wrap should be enough to spare Mrs Gargrave’s blushes.’
She stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds before bursting into a peal of laughter and he found himself grinning back. He’d promised himself that he’d behave, but somehow he couldn’t resist flirting with her. The sound of her laughter was almost intoxicating. And he was only joking after all—half joking, anyway.
‘I might have to abandon corsets altogether if I keep on eating like this.’ She popped a potato into her mouth as if to demonstrate her intention of doing so. ‘Or I might burst out
of mine one day.’
‘I’d like to see that.’ He grinned broadly. ‘I’d be there to catch you, of course. Trust me, Violet, you have curves in all the right places.’
She dropped her gaze to her plate as her cheeks darkened. ‘It’s funny, but I love food. I never realised it before, but I do. Isn’t that strange?’
‘That you never realised it? I suppose so.’
‘My father said it was unladylike to eat large portions so I thought I was always just hungry, but it’s more than that. I love food. Now I can decide what to eat and how much, I relish every mouthful.’ She made a face. ‘I’m not sure I’m explaining myself very well.’
‘I think you are. You mean you’re learning new things about yourself.’
‘Yes! Who I am, what I like, who I want to be... My father used to make every decision for me. Now that I have my own choices to make, I feel like I’m finally discovering who I am.’ She gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Better late than never.’
‘Some of us get too many choices too early.’ He put down his knife and fork, losing his appetite suddenly. ‘I had all the choices I ever wanted. Second sons are lucky that way. The oldest son gets the money and the title, but the second gets to take more risks—in my case especially.’
‘Why especially?’
