Morgan paused, surprised by the personal observation. Jenkins had been in his employ for longer than he could count, and the man rarely, if ever, offered unsolicited opinions.
“Content?” Morgan echoed.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, Your Grace.” Jenkins straightened a stack of correspondence on the entrance table.
“You may overstep, Jenkins.”
“Well…. in all my years of service, I’ve never seen you quite so… at ease. Marriage clearly suits you.”
“People keep saying that.” Morgan felt a smile tug at his lips. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed, sir. Her Grace is a remarkable woman, and Mrs. Dawson feel she has taken well to her new role and duties.” Jenkins met his eyes briefly. “We’re all very pleased to see you… well, so happy.”
The simple sincerity of it caught Morgan off guard. “Thank you, Jenkins. That means a great deal.”
“Will you require anything else this evening, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you. That will be all. Get some rest.”
“Very good, sir. Goodnight.”
As Jenkins walked down the servants’ stairs, Morgan stood alone in the entrance hall for a moment.
Home.
Then, Morgan climbed the stairs two at a time, his heart lighter than it had been in years. He found Eliza in their bed, propped up against the pillows with a book in her lap. She’d let her hair down and it cascaded over her shoulders in waves of dark gold. She wore only a thin nightgown that left little to the imagination. She looked up as he entered, her face breaking into a smile that made his chest ache.
“You’re back,” she said, setting the book aside and propping herself up onto her elbows. “I was beginning to think Ambrose had talked you into staying out all night.”
“Never.” Morgan shrugged out of his coat, began working at his cravat. “Though we did have quite the conversation.”
“Oh?” Eliza’s eyes followed his movements as he undressed. “About what?”
“You. Me. How ridiculously in love with you I am.”
“You flatter me.”
“I am most serious,” he said as he made the sign of the cross.
She laughed, the sound warm and delighted. “That must have been quite the revelation for poor Ambrose.”
“He handled it admirably.” Morgan climbed onto the bed, crawling toward her with predatory intent. “Though he did call us both saps.”
“We are saps,” Eliza agreed, reaching for him. “Completely, hopelessly besotted with each other.”
“Is that so terrible?”
“Terrible? No.” She pulled him down for a kiss, slow and sweet. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect, Eliza. Far from it.”
“Perfect for me, then.” She ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes soft with affection. “My imperfect, wonderful,slightly overbearing husband who pleasures me during opera performances.”
“Oh goodness,” Morgan laughed against her lips. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Never. I plan to bring it up at the most inopportune moments for the rest of our lives. Perhaps you could do it again… give me more ammunition to tease you.”
“Oh, how I love to tease you.
