“How soon do you think we can make it through dinner?” he whispered, so close to her ear she fought brand new shivers. “I would hate to commit unspeakable acts over the haricot verts.”
Those familiar chills chased down her body. She smacked his hand anyway. “Behave yourself, sir. This might not be your staff, but they shouldn’t have to witness bad behavior.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s bad. I think it’s perfectly acceptable. After all. Your grandmother approves.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “You assume my grandmother is acceptable.”
Heavens, how she delighted in this sparring. No one except the other kings had ever thought to do it with her before, as if she didn’t deserve a bit of fun. Or maybe that she wouldn’t want it.
That thought brought her up sharp. Could that have been her fault? Could she have had so much on her plate that she couldn’t imagine any relief?
He laid his hand over hers. “Well, then, what do you suggest?”
For a moment she just stared at it, still caught in her unhappy question. But this was not the time for it. This was the time for serious discussion, whether she wanted it or not.
She accepted his offer and turned for dinner. “I suggest we get the discussions we must have out of the way.”
“And those would be?”
But she made him wait for Mrs. Wren to guide them to what looked like the morning room where a small table had been set for two, including china, crystal, silver and flowers. Grey settled her into her place and then took his across from her. She couldn’t help noticing that the candlelight was particularly kind to him, softening the harsher lines he had earned on the Peninsula and gleaming in his hair.
They were both well-behaved enough to wait until Mr. Wren had served the soup before picking up the conversation. It was better than admitting that they weren’t tasting everything for the tension they both suffered.
“Have we been polite enough?” Grey asked with a sly twinkle. “What do we need to discuss?”
“Well,” she said, setting down her spoon, “everything.”
He cocked his head. “We can’t put it off until after our wedding night?”
“Not if you still intend to decamp day after tomorrow. If you do not wish to come back to a completely alien household, you need to apprise me now.”
He took a moment to consider. “Do you think I will not like your taste in decor? I’ve had no problems with your fashion sense. In fact, I find it elegant, clean and colorful with just a hint of whimsy.”
She found herself battling a smile. “Do you like chintz?”
“I wouldn’t know chintz if it came up and introduced itself.”
“What about the Oriental Salon in the family home?”
She could see him looking back. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. Did you decorate that?”
She nodded, unaccountably relieved. “Each of the oldest girls got a salon to decorate for practice. Charlie and I fought over the scarlet wallpaper.”
“Then I believe I may trust you.”
Her soup was getting cold. She didn’t notice. “And you are happy with your staff as is?”
“Exceptionally. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I have only met them in snatches. But if, say for argument’s sake, one of them hurts one of the girls. Deliberately, I mean. Or through neglect.”
He never so much as took a breath. “Then they go. You also have my permission and blessing to hire more staff if you believe we need them.”
She nodded and waited until the soup was exchanged for sole. “You do know that the girls need a governess.”
That brought him up short, fork halfway to his mouth. “Oh, no. Not so soon.”
She nodded again, this time with purpose. “So soon. They are having enough upheaval in their lives. They need some stability. A nursery maid just isn’t enough.”
