His expression was curious, but he didn’t pursue the topic, for which she was grateful. Perhaps someday it would seem right to discuss her marriage, but not today.
When Madame Mercier entered the room to serve the lemon tart and coffee, conversation languished. The tart was as good as the rest of the meal, a deliciously bittersweet taste on her tongue, and the strong, hot coffee was the perfect complement.
After Simon had finished off his tart, he said, “Now that you are mellowed by good French food, I’ll ask what it would take to coax you into risking marriage. What if I settle a lump sum of money on you that will permit you to be comfortable and independent even if we separate?”
“You want this so much?” she exclaimed, startled. “Surely there are other women who would be charming, accommodating wives!”
He smiled a little. “I don’t know any such women, but I know you.”
“A convenient female for a marriage of convenience? I suppose that makes sense.”
“There’s more to it than that,” he said seriously. “I’ve always felt easy with you even when we were both very young and you were on the way to the altar with another. I feel easy with you now despite the strangeness of this conversation. Do you feel that way, or is it just me?”
“I’ve felt much the same,” she said slowly. “As if we were natural friends. In the years since, we’ve both lived complicated lives. There is ease in not having to pretend to be normal.”
He grimaced. “I often feel like that, that I’m pretending to be normal. But there are a good number of other former soldiers around, so I’m not that unusual. There are few if any European women who have escaped harems as you have.”
“It’s a distinction I would prefer to have avoided,” she said dryly. She studied his face, wondering if she was mad to consider this proposal. “If I am to accept your offer of a settlement, we’ll have to trust each other. You must trust that I won’t take the money and run away, and I must trust that you won’t push me down the stairs to free you from an unsatisfactory marriage.”
“I like your directness,” he said, amused. “I swear not to push you down any stairs, and I trust that you won’t take the money and leave without making a good faith effort to create a companionable marriage.”
“If I accept your proposal, I swear I will try my best,” she said seriously.
“One can ask no more.” He glanced out the window. “Night falls so early at this season. I need to return you to your home.”
Suzanne nodded agreement, then asked, “Now that we’ve broken bread together, what next, milord?”
“First I’ll take you home so you can finish your alterations. Tomorrow, shall we meet some of each other’s friends?”
She liked that he respected her work even though alterations must seem trivial to him. But the rest of his comment was irrelevant. “I have no friends in London except for Mr. and Mrs. Potter and the other women in the boardinghouse.”
Simon smiled. “Aren’t you friends with a certain Lady Aurora Lawrence, informally known as ‘Roaring Rory’?”
“Rory is still in London?” Suzanne exclaimed. “I’d love to see her! Surely her captain is not far from his bride.”
“Glued to her side by all appearances, with a wide, happy smile on his face,” Simon said with affectionate amusement. “Tomorrow evening, several veterans of the Portuguese cellar and their wives will be dining at the home of Lord and Lady Kirkland, so you can meet Rory and some other amiable ladies.”
Suzanne glanced down at her gown, appalled. Correctly interpreting her expression, Simon said, “You have the Frenchwoman’s gift of elegance, Suzanne. You will look very well, and from what I hear, the other ladies who will be present are not the sort who claw other females for sport.”
The idea was still rather intimidating, but it would be wonderful to see the exuberant Rory and perhaps her quiet, lovely cousin Constance. Suzanne was also curious to meet the friends Simon had made when under sentence of death. “I shall be pleased to accompany you. Who are the Kirklands? Was he in that cellar?”
“No, but he has been a friend to all of us. Kirkland has extensive shipping interests and many useful connections. When Lady Aurora’s mother was desperate to find a reliable agent to negotiate her daughter’s freedom in Algiers, Kirkland produced Hawkins for her. He’s very good at such things.”
Suzanne smiled. “Surely the captain exceeded his orders by not only rescuing the lady but marrying her.”
“Perhaps, but there are no complaints from any direction. I think the lady’s parents are relieved to see her safely married off.”
“Safe” wasn’t the word Suzanne would have used to describe Lady Aurora, but she and Hawkins clearly suited each other well. Rising from her chair, she said, “It will be an interesting evening.”
With impeccable timing, Madame Mercier entered the breakfast room and offered a basket to Suzanne. “Your candles, milady.”
Suzanne looked into the basket and saw a wrapped bundle of what she suspected were the best beeswax candles, alongside a wrapped parcel of bread and a small crock that smelled deliciously of beef bourguignon. “Thank you, madam! You are very generous.”
Madame Mercier murmured in French that it was her pleasure, but her conspiratorial glance at Simon said that she was hopeful this long neglected house would soon have a new mistress. The idea was beginning to seem . . . possible.
Chapter 4
In a tribute to her skill with alterations, the shimmering green gown Suzanne wore for dinner with Simon’s friends produced a bow of admiration when he collected her at her boardinghouse. “You look splendid, milady. The green of your gown makes your eyes seem impossibly emerald.”
