“You look charming in it.”
“Thank you. But all this—” She gestured back toward the blanket and spread of food, the sweep of her arm encompassing the idyllic spring day. “It’s like a stage. Or a painting.”
He nodded. “You ought to have brought your easel.”
“I wish I had,” she agreed on a sigh. “Though I would feel too self-conscious to paint in company.”
As her words sank in, Stephen squinted up at the sun shining through the canopy of tree branches above them. He said, “And you find the role of my wife a difficult one to play, I gather?”
She sent him a worried look. “You know what I mean. Pretending that we are anormal, newly married couple.”
“What is normal? A lot of marriages begin less than romantically. Look at my parents... On second thought, perhaps not. Mamma was handsome and Papa a wealthy heir. They may not be the ideal to aspire to.”
He stopped walking and looked at her sharply. “Not that you are not handsome. I did not mean that. You know I think you are lovely. But I am certainly not a wealthy heir pursued by beautiful women for his money.” What an idiot he was. He should know better than to open his mouth around women—especially one he found attractive. Especially his wife.
Sophie ducked her head, and a becoming blush stained her cheeks. “Thank you for clarifying.”
Perhaps he had not botched things so badly after all.
She looked up and said, “May I ask, Captain, if you have ever been in love, or considered marriage before? Perhaps with... Jenny?”
Shock squeezed Stephen’s chest. He felt his mouth part. “Where on earth did you hear that name?”
“You... em, said it in your sleep on our wedding night.”
He winced. “I would prefer not to talk about that, if you don’t mind.” Especially not when Sophie was just beginning to warm to him, to change her earlier assessment of his “black” character. Abruptly, he said, “Shall we rejoin the others?”
She looked away and forced a smile. “Of course.”
They turned and strolled back toward the picnic blanket.
There, Miss Blake was talking to his former lieutenant. “Keith... Is that a Scottish surname?” she asked.
Carlton nodded. “In my case, yes. Though my family has lived in England for several generations.”
“Angela has been to Scotland,” Kate interjected.
Keith looked at Miss Blake with interest. “Oh? What took you there?”
Angela sketched a little shrug. “I traveled there with my aunt once. She had always wanted to see the Highlands.”
“When was this?”
“Five years ago.”
Kate added, “She was gone for months.”
“Well, we saw more than Scotland,” Angela explained. “The north of England, the Peak, and then on to the Highlands. A bit of a grand tour, but here in old and relatively safe Britain, rather than abroad as young gentlemen do.”
“Or soldiers shipped to foreign parts. Scotland sounds better than the battlefields of Spain, ay, Captain?” Keith winked at Stephen, then returned his gaze to Miss Blake. “Did you enjoy the trip?”
Miss Blake shook her head, eyes distant. “I can’t say that I did.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
“Then why did you stay away so long?” Kate pouted. “I missed you terribly.”
Warm eyes focused on Miss Blake, Keith said quietly, “Yes, I can understand that....”
