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Which meant to Amelia that he missed her terribly. That he had thought of a long and happy life with her that he would never have now. It really was tragic for a man as young as he was. “It seems your marriage was all you expected it be.”
He put some chicken on her plate and then some potatoes before he answered. “What does anyone expect from marriage, really?”
“Happiness and love, I would hope. But so many don’t take the time to determine true compatibility before they determine love, I think.”
Joshua stilled, his knife in the meat. He slowly looked up. “What did you say?”
“I’ve said it poorly. I meant that we should endeavor to determine compatibility before we enter into marriage for love.”
“No, you...” He stared at the chicken for a long moment. “You’ve said it perfectly.”
“Hmm,” she said, watching him. “I’m asking too many questions and saying too many things, I think. I really don’t mean to pry, but I’m dying of curiosity. I wonder if you knew how compatible you would be with your wife before you married. Doesn’t it seem that so many are caught up with the emotion of courtship and don’t consider how compatible they are to one another, really? Or perhaps you loved her straightaway, because it seems to me you loved her so very much. She was a fortunate woman, I think. And love is...it’s hard to find, isn’t it?”
Joshua looked stricken by her words. She really had to learn when to stop talking. “I beg your pardon—I’ve offended you.”
“No. You haven’t. I...think perhaps I have offended myself.”
“Pardon?”
He looked at her, his gaze intense, like he was trying to find something in her face. “If I may, Amelia, I would rather not speak of my late wife. It’s too painful.”
“Je.Of course.” Amelia could feel a flush in her cheeks and dropped her gaze to her plate. “The chicken is excellent.” She hadn’t even taken a bite.
“Amelia...”
He was going to explain that he’d loved his wife beyond imagining, and it was excruciating to revive her memory, and Amelia suddenly didn’t want to hear it, to know that he’d had what she desperately wanted and would probably never have. “It’s my fault—I’ve been thinking about so many things because I’m to find a match and be married,” she blurted, interrupting him. “And I can’t imagine a marriage without love or felicity, but I fear if I put off making a choice any longer, I will be left with no choice at all. Oh Lord, I beg your pardon.” She put down her fork. “I really must stop talking.”
“No, you’re fine,” he assured her. “What will you do if you don’t settle on a match?”
“Return to Wesloria as the vanquished princess. I think there is no worse fate than that as far as my mother is concerned. And then she will cast her net wider, toward more undesirable options.”
Joshua looked confused. “Such as?”
“Such as...two Russian princes she has in mind, but she hasn’t wanted to include them on any list because she fears the family’s eccentric history.”
He looked at her blankly.
“So she claims.” Amelia dropped her gaze and forced herself to eat the chicken. Her mother feared so many things, half of which seemed nonsensical to Amelia.
“I see.”
“Do you? Because I never have. All I’ve ever really wanted was to be like everyone else. When I was a girl, I used to stand at the windows and watch visitors to the palace come in through the gates. I would imagine becoming one of them. Just...abandon my body and enter one of theirs and return home to a cottage in the forest. I would have family and friends and attend country dances on the weekends and bear my children with a midwife and look forward to the summer harvest.”
“The summer harvest, eh? Why a cottage in the forest?”
“Because it sounds simple and carefree to me. No music lessons, no tutors, no heads of state or dinners to attend. Free to choose my friends and my lovers. No reason to worry about living in Russia with strangers who my mother has warned me are eccentric, whatever that might mean.”
He laughed with surprise. “If you were other than you are, you might be surprised to find your lovers were not the sort of men you’re accustomed to. A simple life in a cottage would require the fruits of your manual labor. After your summer harvest, you’d have to cook. You’d have to break the necks of chickens and iron and wash and sweep.”
“I could do all those things,” she insisted.
He cocked his head and smiled dubiously.
“I could! I’m almost certain of it.”
His smile turned more dubious.
“Fine. I’d like to imagine that I could.”
