“Who cooks for them now?”
“We take turns.”
“But mostly I’ll be cooking just for you.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. What do they think about that?”
“I don’t know. They work for me. I didn’t ask them.”
“Securing a cook and housekeeper for Morning Star does not necessitate a proposal of marriage.”
“I’m aware.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her head was still foggy; she needed to think. His silence was welcome. Jane pinched the bridge of her nose and stared at the ceiling. “Whatever happens, Mr. Longstreet, I will not be returning to New York. What you decide does not determine my future. I do.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I do not require coddling.”
“All appearances to the contrary,” he said dryly.
“Yes,” she said. “All appearances to the contrary.” Jane turned her head to look at him. “What did you do with the photograph? I think we should discuss it now. May I see it again?”
Morgan took the photograph from the table and handed it to her without glancing at it. “You were a very different person two years ago.”
Jane ignored his sarcasm. Nodding, she turned the picture around so he could see it and pointed to the face. “I am still a very different person. This is my cousin Rebecca. I wrote about her. She is Cousin Franny’s daughter.”
“The one expected to marry well. The beauty, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
Jane gave him the photograph. “She sat for that picture six months ago in preparation for a charity gala that she was hosting with her mother. You can see that she’s younger than I am.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You wanted a younger wife.”
“I thought this photograph was two years old, remember? That’s what you wrote. She’s what? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-two.”
“So I thought you would be twenty-three or twenty-four.”
A small vertical crease appeared between Jane’s dark eyebrows. “Did I never reveal my age?”
“No. The photograph should have been sufficient.”
Jane’s cheeks puffed as she blew out a short breath. “How surprised you must have been to see me wearing the hat with red poppies.”
“You were…unexpected.”
“I was twenty-seven in June. Rebecca is five years my junior.”
“And I am two years your senior. If I wanted a younger wife, you would still suit.”
