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She paid him no mind as she removed her gloves and quickly untied the paper. Carefully peeling it back, gold lettering revealed the title:The Odyssey.She rubbed the rim of the book.
“I discovered its sister volume the first afternoon call that you paid me. I’d always wondered whether you intended to intentionally hide the book or if you had dropped it by accident.”
Robert studied the ceiling.
“Husband?”
“That’s a new nickname. I shall note that I am ‘husband’ when you are cross with me.”
She frowned. He laughed.
“Robert?” Helen tried again.
He crossed his arms and sighed. “When I discovered you already held a fine copy ofThe Iliadin your possession, I debated on what I should do. And so I decided to leave the book behind to have you make the decision for me. As I have come to learn, women know best.”
“I can’t fault you for that.” Helen smiled broadly. “This set will be the only copies of Homer’s writings I own in English.”
Rising in the carriage, she wobbled on unsteady legs and sat beside her husband. “I owe you a thank you,” she said.
She nuzzled her nose against his and kissed him the first of many times en route to the wedding breakfast. For the entire journey from the church to Curzon Street, Helen would only remember the sound of reverberating laughter, the scratchiness of Robert’s cheeks rubbing against her own, and the endless strong, muscular embrace of her husband’s arms wrapped around her body.
