A new tradition, Elizabeth had called it.
Bugger tradition.
John lifted a female urchin from the seat next to Netta and plopped her in her father’s lap, taking her place. He accepted the tart. “Thank you.” He squeezed his wife’s thigh to emphasize the point. Then slid his palm a little higher.
Netta peeled his hand off of her. “Children present,” she murmured. “Later.”
John scowled and stabbed his fork into the tart. “Why do you people insist on laying siege to my home each week? Can’t we have these breakfasts at someone else’s house?”
Montague bucked his knee, making his daughter squeal as she held on for the ride. “No,” he said. “Because then we’d never see you and Netta. You wouldn’t make an appearance.”
John sniffed. Sometimes it was unfortunate that his friends knew him so well.
“Were you hired for the role of Desdemona?” Colleen asked Netta. “Weren’t you to try out for the role this Tuesday?”
“The manager asked me to come back for another audition next week.” Netta blew out a breath. “I think he liked my performance but it was hard to tell.”
“Of course, he liked it.” John rested his hand on the back of her chair and toyed with the curl of hair on her back. “You are a superlative actress.”
“Aww.” Elizabeth gave Montague a significant look. “When was the last time you gave me such a compliment. You could learn something from your friend.”
“They are newly married,” Montague protested. “For the first year, men say all sorts of nonsense. Besides”—he dipped his chin and raised one eyebrow—“I show you praise in many other ways.”
His wife turned pink. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“And my compliment has nothing to do with its proximity to my wedding.” Judith leapt onto John’s lap, and he fed her a bit of ham. “Thirty years from now Netta will still be a superlative actress, and I will freely tell her so.”
Netta placed her hand on his leg and leaned into him. “Thank you, husband.”
Sure, she could strokehisleg in a crowded room without consequence. He took a sip of coffee. Perhaps tonight he could create a consequence. A naughty, wanton consequence. His lips twitched, a new game forming in his mind.
Three months into his marriage, and he couldn’t be more satisfied. She gave him a reason to smile each day. She kept him on his toes. And their bed sport only got better and better.
He rubbed his thumb along her hand. Netta had been nothing but encouraging when he’d reopened his laboratory. He had months of reading to becomeau couranton the state of chemistry today, but getting his burners lit again had felt right.
He was creating again, playing with the elements, striving for new formulas for a stronger steel. He walked into his laboratory each day with a smile on his face.
He tapped his thumb against his thigh. It was a joy practicing chemistry once more, but something was missing and he didn’t know what. A slight sense of restlessness was the only stain on his happiness. He enjoyed working in his laboratory, but he didn’t feel the same passion for it he once had.
Wil popped his head into the breakfast room. “I—”
A jumble of children, already finished with their meal, raced past, knocking into his legs, sending him off-balance.
He stumbled into the door jamb.
John grinned. It was amusing when it happened to somebody else. “Something I can do for you?” he asked.
Wil straightened his cravat. “I’m just going out. I might be gone for a couple of days.”
John knitted his brow. “Why? Has something happened?”
“I don’t rightly know.” Wil hooked his thumb under one of his braces. “I met a man in a bit of trouble, and I thought I might try to help him out.”
“Another stray?” At least Wil hadn’t brought the poor sot home this time.
“Not according to him.” Wil shook his head. “He says he was a prince of Naples, though he doesn’t look the part now. Moth-eaten clothes, wild hair, but there’s something about his bearing.” He shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“What’s he doing here?” Netta asked, planting her elbows on the table and settling in.
