She could try for harmony in this. “May I try your Turkish coffee? I, too, like it strong and sweet.”
A look in his eyes suddenly gave added meaning to her words, sending a hot tingle over her. Perhaps they wouldn’t wait until the night....
But he turned away to call the order to his secretary and then returned, closing the door, indicating that she should sit. Simply sit. She did so, but with an inner wail. It had been so long, and now she felt sure their consummation would be satisfactory. Highly satisfactory.
He sat in the other chair. “What was your first wedding day like?”
She hoped he didn’t mean her first wedding night. She didn’t think she could talk about that without completely losing control.
Chapter 16
“Summer,” she said, “and more of an event. A number of my friends attended, and his. We spent the night at an inn, then traveled on by easy stages to our London home.”
“And you’d known each other for some time.”
“Three months, though we hadn’t met frequently until the last weeks. I was at school at first.” She told him about sneaking out to the fair and then exchanging letters and arranging the occasional meeting. “All irresistibly exciting at seventeen.”
She realized that begged the question of whether she’d regretted it later, but thank heavens he didn’t ask.
“Who were your witnesses?”
“Half the parish, but principally Ruth and Marcus’s brother. His family was there, of course, his mother still trying to persuade us to return to live at Cateril Manor.”
“Mothers,” he said. “The queen is a difficult one, too.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that, perhaps, treason?”
“Probably. But everyone acknowledges that she’s cold to most of her children, and a tyrant as well. She refuses to acknowledge the Duke of Cumberland’s wife because of some old grudge.”
“It must be hard to have her husband in such a terrible state and for so long.”
“True, but that doesn’t excuse her.”
“Perhaps it’s worn her down,” Kitty said, thinking a little of herself, but there was no comparison. “She’s old and in ill health. Perhaps to be pitied.”
“You have a kind heart,” he said, but without notable approval.
“I’m not ashamed of it. What was your mother like?”
The question seemed to take him aback.
“It’s hard to say.” He rose to put more wood on the fire. “She died when I was eleven, and I doubt any child that age judges a parent clearly. I didn’t see a great deal of her, but she was beautiful and charming. She sang when there were guests. I’d slip out of my room onto the landing to listen.” He stood, dusting off his hands. Those beautiful hands, which sent her mind in improper directions. “Until I went to school, my time was mostly spent with my nurse and tutor.”
An aristocratic upbringing. Why be surprised?
Because he was beginning to feel like an equal and that could be dangerous to her sanity. She was a glorified housekeeper and governess, and his life was in London.
“Lady Sophonisbe,” she said. “She must be the daughter of an earl, marquess, or duke.”
“Duke.”
Kitty had hoped for the lowest level of aristocracy, not the highest.
“But she ran off with a commoner,” he said, with a smile that might even be fond. “Plain Sir Barnaby Ecclestall. An excellent fellow, though my mother didn’t think so.”
“She disliked her father?”
“She died when I was young, so I don’t know. But my father said once that she resented being born a commoner when her mother should by rights have married high. You asked about my father and the title, and I saidhe’d have liked it. My mother would have been in alt to become Lady Dauntry.”
