“Which must mean she had the life she wanted.”
“I’ve known people who had all the choices in the world and yet managed to make themselves miserable.”
“That could include Napoleon.”
“Cursed with an appetite for conquest that could never be satisfied,” he agreed. “If he’d taken Russia, where next? That’s the worst curse the gods can place upon us—insatiable ambition.”
“Like Tantalus, chained, thirsty, in water that never quite reached his lips.”
“Indeed. The old gods knew their tortures.”
“You are free of ambition?”
“Yes, thank God.”
The pleasure of sweet coffee, halva, and the fire’s warmth led Kitty to ask, “There’s nothing you want?” She watched for his reaction.
He sipped coffee, taking his time. “To not die with regrets. What of you?”
“Nothing significant at the moment. I wanted to escape Cateril Manor, and you provided the key. I wanted to escape tedium, and you’ve provided purpose. When I discover a new want, I’ll seek a way to satisfy it.”
“Do you want children?”
The question startled her. Because it felt too personal, she realized, and that was ridiculous.
“In truth, I don’t know. I’ve become accustomed to not having them, and to it being unlikely. What of you? You said you’re not concerned about an heir, but do you want to be a father?”
If he was taken aback, it served him right.
“I’ve had little to do with children,” he said. “I doubt I’d be good at it. I’m not like Andrew Lulworth.”
Impossible to imagine him romping with a child as Andrew romped with Arthur, but he was relaxing here with her. In this modest room, in comfortable chairs by the fireside, with a plain mantel clock slowly ticking time, Kitty could forget the grand house above and aroundthem and all the problems it contained. Perhaps the fifth viscount had done just that. If so, she didn’t blame him.
“I’m enjoying this,” she said. “The coffee and the cake, but mostly the conversation. It’s so long since I’ve enjoyed a long and sensible one.”
“Your dog doesn’t oblige?”
As if aware she’d been mentioned, Sillikin raised her head.
Kitty chuckled. “She employs the supportive silence.”
“Which can be extremely effective.”
Sillikin got up, stretched, and went to the door in a meaningful way.
“And sometimes she’s direct.” Regretfully, Kitty rose. “I need to take her out, and she should have a walk. You’d be welcome to accompany us, but I suspect you have tasks awaiting you, having been away.”
He rose, too. “What an understanding bride you are. Are you truly so composed, or is this a brave front?”
The question surprised her. “I am as I am, Braydon. If you want something other, I’ll try to oblige, but I fear I’m no hand at acting a part.”
“No. Be yourself,” he said. But he didn’t sound easy about it.
She prayed she soon understood him better. Attempting to interpret every little thing would be exhausting, and she must make this work.
Chapter 17
He opened the door for her, inclining his head slightly as she passed. That seemed too formal between husband and wife. But as she walked down the short corridor, she acknowledged that she knew nothing of how it should be between a viscount and viscountess. Perhaps the nobility were different in all ways.
