“He’d never try tokillyou,” she protested.
“He might try to kill you. No, don’t dismiss it too easily. It’s a madness that takes men at times—that if they can’t possess a woman, no one should.”
“I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. But before you ask, I will continue to take my entourage when I go out.”
“Thank you.”
She leaned comfortably against him and indulged in dreams. “If I was able to live mostly in London, we’d need to use the house. Would you mind? I like it, and it’s as if it’s dozing, hoping someone will live happily in it.”
“A sentient building? Do we dare speculate what the Abbey is thinking and feeling?”
“Miserable thoughts. Oh, dear—now I want to rescue it. How? Even if we evict the dowager, if we have our way, it will stand empty. I don’t suppose we can lease it?”
“It would cause a lot of talk, but if we reach that point, it might be the only solution.” She caught the smile in his voice as he added, “You want to rescue the world, don’t you?”
“No, that’s you. I restrict myself to my immediate sphere. I’ll do what I can for the town house. New paint and paper. Some additional furniture. Piped hot water to your dressing room, so it could serve as a bathing room.”
“A large bath,” he said, “so we can bathe together.”
“Why?” But then she envisioned it. “You’re making me blush.”
“I love to make you blush. I’ve read of projects to use steam to heat a whole house.”
“That would be delightful. We’ll be a winter haven for gatherings of whatever sorts of people we each like.” She shifted so she could see him when she added, “Including a weekly Kit Kat Club.”
She saw no reaction. “If there’s not enough space,” he said, “we could take one of the houses to either side.”
“Have two houses?”
“Knock them together.”
“I never imagined that.”
“Expand your mind,” he said, and they both smiled at memory of their first encounter.
“Anything is possible?” she said, but then she pulled a face. “Not everything. Or not for some time. And if I were to live mostly in London, I’d miss Ruth. Having only just moved close to her, I’d be far away again. So the Abbey isn’t so terrible after all.”
“Except that we won’t be there together.”
He’d put it into words. She responded as calmly as she could. “Sometimes perfection isn’t possible, and we have more, much more, than we expected, my dear Braydon.”
“We do,” he said, as the carriage halted outside their rooms.
Chapter 41
Kitty woke early the next morning, and lay, in low spirits, close to her husband’s warm body. She’d woken in the middle of the night, at that time when darker thoughts seem able to invade.
She must soon return to the Abbey, and putting it off wouldn’t help. Rural Gloucestershire wasn’t the Slough of Despond, but her dark-hours mind hadn’t been able to escape that image. The chilly house with the even chillier people, and the wintry countryside where little was alive.
Unfair, unfair. It could be lovely in the summer.
Yet even those who enjoyed their rural estates in balmier seasons didn’t live there in winter, if they could help it. They visited at Christmastide and then hurried back to Town.
Christmas at Beauchamp Abbey.
She’d have to attempt some celebrations, because not to do so would be to knuckle down to the dowager. But how could she arrange matters without starting a war? And whom should she invite? And would they attend?
She’d always enjoyed the Christmas season in London and resented leaving it for Cateril Manor. Now, in early December, the streets were already bright with gaslight and the shops full of delicacies and delights. The theaters would be at their best at Christmastime, even with the lingering mourning. There’d be pantomimes, which she’dheard were great fun. Now there was no reason she couldn’t go to one, except for the damned Abbey.
