None of this disturbed Jacinthe, who’d been looking after Donata since Donata had been a girl. Donata’s own mother was not as fierce.
“Let him in,” my wife said wearily. “He will only stand there if you do not, and he is creating a draft.”
Jacinthe’s expression told me she considered me the loser of the battle, but she opened the door deferentially. As I entered, Jacinthe fetched a mending basket and walked sedately out.
Donata said absolutely nothing. She sat at her dressing table, peering into the mirror as she arranged curls of her hair with her fingers.
The windows giving to the sea were open and I moved to them. I gazed out at the beauty of the gray ocean, breathing in the clean air.
After the silence had stretched between us, I turned to her. “Grenville told me I ought to go down on my knees before you. But this one doesn’t bend well.” I tapped my leg with my walking stick. “So I will have to remain standing.”
Donata kept her eyes on the mirror, lifting a strand of gold to test against her throat. “Absolute nonsense,” she said in a quiet voice.
“The truth of it is, no lady can hold a candle to you.”
Donata at last glanced at me, but the spark in her eyes showed she was not appeased. “I did rather coerce you into marrying me, I admit. I remember not giving you much choice.”
I regarded her in amazement then returned to my contemplation of the sea.
“It astonishes me every day,” I said softly, “that you condescended to notice me at all. A most beautiful lady with a swift and intelligent mind, and you chose to favorme. I have been, all this time, humbled, and grateful.”
Another silence. When I turned again, she gazed at me, her mask of studied sangfroid gone. We regarded each other—anger and remorse, frustration and regret wafting through the space between us.
“Well, youarerather handsome,” Donata said lightly.
I went to her and peered around her into the mirror. I saw my hard face, too weathered by the sun, a long nose, unruly dark hair, and wide dark eyes.
“I will never believe you on that score,” I told her. “I married you before you could come to your senses and pass me over.”
Donata flushed, but instead of answering, she waved her hand at a folded paper on the dressing table. “Grenville sent me a note this morning. He told me what happened to you last night and why you fled.”
I would have to thank Grenville profusely for his intervention. “Then you know what a fool I was acting, confused and going off in all directions.”
Donata’s coolness vanished. “Good Lord, Gabriel, someone tried to shoot you. I have no doubt they were aiming foryou, as you were alone at the time.”
“True,” I said. “Mrs. Gibbons only hailed me as Brewster and I chased after the scoundrel into the streets.”
“That was not what I meant.” Donata squarely met my gaze. “You need to have a care. Mr. Denis should assign three or four men to guard you—obviously Mr. Brewster cannot do it alone.”
“Mr. Denis is here in Brighton. He commandeered Brewster’s lodgings and sent for me last night, at midnight, if you please.”
“I know,” she said. “Bartholomew told me—that is, he told Jacinthe. What is Mr. Denis’s opinion of all this?”
“That a person from my past plans to end me.” I pulled a delicate chair next to her and sat down, rested my arms on my knees, and related my conversation with him. I ended with a weak smile. “Denis also ordered me to reconcile with you.”
“Ah.” Donata’s expression shuttered. “So that is why you were so eloquent.”
“I meant every word of it.” I lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I hate that I distress you because I can be a dolt. I hate that my past is rising to plague us. I hate that you believe my affection for you could ever wane.”
Her fingers tightened on mine the slightest bit. “I was raised to never show what I felt, no matter the circumstance,” she said softly. “Youare happy to let the world know your true feelings.”
I tried a laugh. “I was raised badly, as you know.”
“I wish I could convey what you do so easily.” Donata’s mouth turned down. “I can only express myself in barbs and witticisms.”
“In public, yes.” I took up her other hand and laid both against my chest. “In private, you may pour out your heart. I will treasure every word and repeat them to no one.”
Donata bowed her head. When she looked up again, her eyes were wet.
