April turned to him with glowing eyes. “I have never seen anything like it. It was utterly magical.”
“I am pleased,” the majordomo replied. “If Your Graces are ready, dinner awaits.”
April turned to Theo. “There is dinner as well?”
He only smiled and offered her his arm. Without a word, he led her through a velvet-curtained passage. They emerged onto a private terrace draped in candlelight. A small, intimate table satbeneath a trellis wound with jasmine. Beyond the balustrade, a garden stretched down the hill, soft with lantern light, and from somewhere hidden among the hedges, music floated up to them, a gentle swell of strings and harp.
Theo pulled out her chair and waited as she sat. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, warm and grounding. He leaned down, his breath brushing her ear.
“How do you feel?”
April closed her eyes for a moment. “As if I am dreaming.”
He kissed her cheek then moved to take his seat opposite her, content with the radiance on her face.
The first course was served: creamy lobster soup in delicate porcelain bowls. Theo watched her as she tasted it.
“Would you like to return here?” he asked.
“Only if you bring me every night,” she replied, her eyes teasing.
“I fear you would grow tired of it.”
“I very much doubt that.”
He smiled. “I first came here with Eugenia. She brought me when I turned eighteen.”
April blinked, clearly surprised. “Then I shall have to thank Lady Darnell most fervently.”
“You might have to thank her for more than this. She insisted I should one day bring my wife.”
“Then she has fine taste indeed,” April replied, smirking.
Their second course arrived—lamb roast with wild mushrooms and fig compote. April looked over the plate appreciatively before glancing at him again.
“Have you traveled much, Theo?”
He reached for his wineglass. “To Rome and Athens. I’ve seen the ruins and the cathedrals, the ancient roads and marbled gods, but I should like to see more.”
She leaned forward, curiosity dancing in her expression. “Where would you go next?”
He tilted his head. “Somewhere warm, perhaps. Spain. Or Egypt. Ideally before we have children.”
Her spoon paused midair, and she blushed so deeply he could see it even in the candlelight. She mumbled something and lowered her gaze.
“The blush looks lovely on you,” he said.
She lifted her fan and swatted his shoulder. “You are insufferable.”
“Undeniably. But amusing, I hope.”
“Too much so. It is dangerous.”
He leaned forward on his elbows. “Then you are in considerable peril, Madam.”
“You bring me to enchanted theaters, feed me heavenly food, flatter me with ancient cities and wicked promises?—”
“And yet you remain seated, unharmed.”
