“If your mama and papa can arrange it, of course,cariad,” Mrs. Evans said, smiling down at her and then at Gil. “It will be such a treat for her, sir.”
“This afternoon while the sun still shines,” he said. “I will have a word with General Pascoe on my way out. I shall send a chaise to fetch you and meet you by the Serpentine.”
Mrs. Evans smiled.
Katy turned an eager face toward him before becoming suddenly shy again and pulling her nurse’s apron over her head.
“Big softie,” she said, and giggled again.
Gil looked at Abby and smiled.
Twenty-three
Gil hadsmiled.
For the rest of the day Abigail felt rather as though she walked on air.
He hadsmiled.
Oh, it was largely because he had seen his child again and had heard her voice and her laughter and had begun, very tentatively, to establish a relationship with her. But it was ather, Abigail, that he had smiled with dazzling warmth. Including her in his happiness.
She did not believe she had ever been happier in her life.
Well, perhaps on her wedding day. And during her wedding night.
They arrived early at the park in order to allow Beauty a good run about an empty expanse of grass, endlessly chasing a large stick and bringing it back. But she wagged her tail, panting loudly, when it was time to reattach her leash, and trotted happily beside them as they made their way to the Serpentine, whose waters were sparkling in the sunshine.
Abigail took Gil’s arm, but he shrugged it off and grasped her hand instead.
“Have I been silent and morose again?” he asked her.
If he had, she had not noticed. For this morning he had smiled, and that had made all the difference.
“No.” She shook her head. “I think I should hate it if you felt obliged to chatter all the time. I think perhaps you would hate it if I did.”
“Can companionship flourish in silence, then?” he asked her.
She thought about it and shook her head. “Probably not,” she said. “Neither, I suspect, could it flourish in endless chatter. I think really close friends ought not to think about whether they are talking enough or too much or even just the right amount. As soon as conversation or its lack becomes self-conscious, companionship slips.”
“Hmm. I will have to think about that,” he said. “You have done much of your living inside yourself, have you not, Abby? I noticed that about you almost from the start. And the same has always been true of me. Do you suppose it will always remain that way?”
“Yes,” she said, frowning in thought for a moment. “Marriage ought not to change two people. That, I think, would lead to unhappiness for one or both. It should only... enrich who they already are.”
“So we will no longer do all our living within and hoard all our secrets to ourselves,” he said.
“I hope not.” She smiled at him. “How did this start?”
“I think it started,” he said, “when you stepped past the corner of the house and saw me half naked, an axe in my hands, and I saw you horribly indignant and haughty because I had witnessed your terror.”
“I was not terrified,” she protested.
“Oh yes, you were,” he said.
“Yes, I was.” She laughed. “Big softie. That description amused Katy, did it not?”
“She is smaller than I expected,” he said. “How could I possibly have created—cocreated—such a dainty little thing, Abby? And all decked out in white for our visit.”
She had no chance to answer. They were walking along the path beside the Serpentine, Beauty on a short leash because there were other people around now, several of them eyeing the dog warily or giving her a wide berth as they passed. But then there was a shriek, and a little figure in pink detached herself from her nurse’s hand and came hurtling toward them, arms outstretched, her eyes upon Beauty.
