“Pleasant? I hope you don’t describe the rest of your marriage with such enthusiasm.” Ambrose shook his head as though theconversation was serving his fill of amusement for the day. “Tea cakes are pleasant. She is yourwife.”
“And wives can be pleasant,” Nicholas asserted. “I don’t see why you expect me to speak of her as though I’m composing a love sonnet. Ours is a marriage of convenience after all.”
“They often start off that way. But somehow, I always got the notion that you would make for a more…” He trailed off deliberately, clearly enjoying Nicholas’ faint glare as he waited. Finally, he finished, “Well, shall we say, spirited husband.”
That nearly drew a chuckle from Nicholas. “Spirited? Explain yourself.”
“You’ve always been passionate about everything you do,” Ambrose said matter-of-factly. “No half measures. No indifference. So, forgive me for finding it hard to believe that you’re simply ‘pleasantly’ married, of all things.”
“Are you suggesting I’ve failed to apply that same… enthusiasm to my marriage?”
“More of an observation than a suggestion, I would say.”
Nicholas drew in a breath, his mind wandering over to Violet again.Pleasant.Yes, that was one way to describe it—simple enough. He wasn’t sure if he was ready—or even willing—to venture beyond the safety of such simplicity.
“It was an evening well spent,” he remarked. “I realize that I am growing to like her as a friend.”
Nicholas made sure to emphasize the last part of that sentence so as not to give his friend any ideas.
“A good start,” Ambrose teased. “One can hope that love will follow.”
Nicholas shot him a glare. “Lovehas nothing to do with it.”
But even as he said the words, he found his mind immediately drifting. Violet had charmed him. Not intentionally, he was sure, but the effect was undeniable. She had held her own at the ball, made him laugh—truly laugh.
“I admire her,” Nicholas added, his voice quieter now. “She’s adjusting well to her role, and she handled herself impeccably last night.”
Ambrose’s grin softened into something more thoughtful. “High praise, coming from you.”
“She exceeded expectations, that’s all.”
“Ah, I have to say it is rather endearing hearing you speak about her. Great progress, might I add. For someone who was just a stranger to you only weeks ago, she seems to be growing on you.”
Nicholas shot him a sharp look, but Ambrose only laughed again, the sound infuriatingly carefree.
“Imagine my surprise.”
“Speaking of surprises,” Ambrose dropped the subject, steering the conversation in a different direction, “Evan Marwood will be in London soon.”
“The Duke of Devonshire?” Nicholas repeated, grateful for the change in subject.
“Yes,” Ambrose said with a nod.
The man had recently inherited his title, but unlike the rest of the ton, he hadn’t been molded by the rigid structures of high society. He wasn’t one of them—not really. Yet, despite his outsider status, Evan possessed a sharp mind for business that was difficult to ignore. It set him apart from most of their peers, and for that, Nicholas respected Evan.
“I wonder how that will go. I imagine he’ll find the ton more of a nuisance than an asset.”
“That’s likely,” Ambrose agreed. “But he’s sharp. I think he’ll manage just fine. Though he will have to attend more balls than he’d like.”
At the mention of balls, Nicholas found his thoughts drifting back to Violet despite himself. She had conducted herself sobrilliantly, but there had been glimpses of her vulnerability. The way she had glanced at him for reassurance, the faint blush that had crept up her cheeks when he had complimented her. It had all felt… different.
“Still thinking about her?”
Heat rose to Nicholas’ cheeks, and he hurried his horse to the front to avoid his friend from seeing. He knew him a little toowell.
“You’re insufferable.”
“That means yes.”
