She hadn’t felt like he’d been telling her to keep the penny. Instead, she felt as if he’d been telling her to keep the part of himself, he’d unintentionally revealed. What was more, shewantedhim to voluntarily place every one of his secrets into her safekeeping.
More fool, her—especially when she could never reveal her own.
She had to put distance between them. Her priority was Annis. This experience was nothing more than a curious idyll that, if everything went as planned, would soon come to an end.
But for now... She glanced askance at the man who was, for the next few hours, to be her “husband.”
“You did not mention our name,” she said.
“Pardon?” He jerked as if her question had snapped him out of a reverie of his own.
“Well, you cannot introduce me as your duchess, can you?”
His muscle flexed beneath her hand.
“Might I suggest something...not at all memorable?” She continued. “Smith, for instance?Ifyour consequence can handle being so lowered.”
He surprised her with a chuckle and then a darkly sardonic glance. “Smith it is. I will nurse my wounded pride later.”
Shehumphed.
“A fine day to find oneself wed, wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Smith?”
Her gaze slid to his profile. She imagined his future bride would feel very fine, indeed, no matter what the weather on their wedding day. Peevishly, she was glad the woman would have to put up with his exceptionally high opinion of himself in perpetuity.
She recalled his list.Intelligent without the pretention of being a bluestocking?
Thatcoulddescribe her...
Ugh.She forced herself to remember his other petty requirements.Mild mannered!Blonde!
And, as to his implicit criticism of bluestockings, that was abhorrent. She hated to think herself the kind of a person who joined in derision for approval’s sake. Even the most pretentious of women were her sisters in womanhood, were they not?
Of course, she planned to teach Annis to read and write and love the written word as soon as Annis was old enough to learn. She resolved right there that, somewhere, someday, she’d also host reading salons in a pair of robin’s egg blue stockings.
Up ahead, the children began a repeated chorus of “the inn!” Then, a collection of white-walled buildings came into sight.
Between the largest building and the smallest—a chicken coop, most likely—sat a pile of broken furniture. The bleached grey wood suggested the pieces had been waiting to be repaired for quite some time. A few chickens popped their heads out of an opening in the lean-to shack, and just as quickly disappeared back inside their pen. Delicious smells emanated from a doorway Hera assumed led to the kitchen.
“It appears we’ve come in from the rear,” Hurtheven said. “I will go inside and see what I can arrange. Would you like to come with me, or would you like to go find our carriage?”
“I want to go find our carriage and see if there are any monkeys are in the courtyard! May I?” Delmare begged.
“Please,” Fee added, fingers folded and eyes pleading.
She glanced to Hurtheven. “Looks like it’s the carriage for us.”
Hurtheven chuckled. “Probably best.”
“Goodbye...Papa,” Fee said with a giggle.
He folded his hands behind his back and bowed. Then, he turned on his heel and strode off toward a door. Even if he was not recognized, that walk, that arrogant, self-assured stride, even in unfamiliar surroundings...
Well, few would mistake him for a man not used to having his way.
She would simply have to make sure he did nothave his waywhere she was concerned.
Collecting a child in each hand, she turned toward the courtyard. As they rounded the side of the building, they came upon their carriage—but no coachman. She frowned, craning her neck, looking for someone.
