Miss Morgan tilted her head. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He gave her a small bow.
“No need for that,” she said with a laugh, waving him off. “We are married, after all.”
She wore a sprigged muslin in a soft peach hue, and he could see why it was her favorite color for gowns. It suited her very well.
To love and to cherish.
Good gracious, his mind needed to keep its thoughts to itself.
She gave him a coy smile, the curls about her face swaying as she turned and walked ahead. The small moment of privacy gave Robert the opportunity to sort his thoughts before following behind. She left a trail of something soft and feminine in the air and he was horrified by the way he took a deep breath, greedily filling his lungs with it.
He quickly followed after her, and they each took plates from the sideboard.
“How did you sleep?” Louisa asked as she spooned some fruit on her plate. She spared him a glance before moving on to a platter of warm rolls.
He took his time filling his plate, choosing both his food and words carefully. “Very well. Thank you.” It wasn’t a lie. The time he did sleep, he slept soundly. “And yourself?”
They passed by a window overlooking the gardens behind the house and the sun lit up the lighter blonde strands in her curls. And her eyes . . . he would have sworn they were simply brown, but up close, in the bright light of morning, they glowed a warm amber.
Louisa looked up from her plate, gazing out the window as she gently closed her eyes—basking in the warm sun on her face. Shefinally gave a soft sigh, shrugging as she went back to her task. “I slept fine, I suppose.”
“Suppose?”
“Oh, nothing serious. It’s only a new house and new surroundings. New . . . noises.” Her eyes flicked to him.
“New noises?” How could a noise possibly be new?
She set her plate down, propping her hand on the sideboard as she turned to face him. “Have you never observed that different houses have their own sounds?”
“I suppose I have never thought much of it.”
“Oh, it is certainly the truth. Every house has its own creaks and groans. Why, just last night I heard some strange creaking. Almost as if this house had a ghost.” She blinked up at him, smiling.
“Really? In all my years, I have never seen evidence of such a thing.” But he was much too practical to even entertain the thought. He decided to keep that particular sentiment to himself, however.
She looked down at her plate, completely relaxed as he stood there dumbly staring at her. She put a finger to her chin. “Yes, I do think I shall name him George.”
“Name him?” Robert couldn’t keep the shock from his voice. Goodness. This woman would keep him on his toes.
“Of course.” She put a hand to her chest. “It certainly had a masculine sound to it.”
“In what way?” He leaned nearer, catching another nose-full of whatever feminine scent followed her about.
She leaned closer as well, as if sharing a dastardly secret. She cupped a hand to her cheek. “A woman’s feet do not make that much noise.”
Suspicion crawled up his spine. Had she heard him leave last night? If so, he did not wish to discuss the details of his evening, so he decided playing along was his best course of action. “Well,”he said, straightening and grabbing his plate. He plopped a healthy dose of eggs in the center. He was starving. “I do believe you are on to something. Let me know if you find any other . . . ghosts.”
“Certainly.” She gave him one last grin before returning to her own plate. “Oh, one more thing.”
He took a roll, spreading on a generous portion of salted butter. “Yes?”
“I was wondering when you plan to visit my room?”
Robert’s roll dropped from his hand, landing on the tines of his fork and sending it flying to the floor, where it landed with a loud clatter. He swallowed, reaching for a clean utensil. “Is there not a better time to discuss this?”
“I feel now is best. Your mother is not here yet.”
