“Would you care for that drink now? I know you don’t want whiskey, but perhaps brandy. It seems you have much to tell me, and I, for one, could use a drink.”
Normally, Rose would say no to such a stuffy drink, preferring fruity wine or champagne or even absinthe. At that moment, however, a mature person’s brandy sounded perfect, and she told him so.
“Though I’m sure I’ve awakened the servants, I think I can trust them to leave us alone. Shall we venture into the kitchen for a snack?”
He asked her this as he dispensed them each a generous pour and handed her a snifter.
They tapped glasses, and Rose took a sip, letting the amber liquid trail warmth down her throat. She coughed.
“If you like. I would like to see what kind of ‘snack’ you know how to make.”
He smiled — genuinely this time — and she wanted to cry again. How lovely was William’s smile. How many more times would she see it?
They wandered down the hallway to the kitchen, where he set down his glass upon the center chopping block. Rose watched William rummage through the cupboards, go in and out of the large pantry, and open each of the compartments of his newfangled refrigerator as if he’d never looked inside before.
Eventually, he had an assortment of pickled foods, cheeses, bread, and even jam and cookies, all on a large plate. They sat there at the kitchen worktable and ate while sipping their drinks.
It was a strange and enchanting meal, and Rose savored every moment of it. This was how it would be with her and William, relaxed, a little whimsical, easy. If they were still to marry.
She could not let this go, not let him go. William was all she could ever need.
“How long were you together?” he asked suddenly.
“Five months,” Rose said quietly. “But married for barely a month.”
“We’ve been together longer than that,” he pointed out.
She nodded.
“An yet you didn’t engage in the act of man and wife?”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I couldn’t be a real wife to him,” she admitted, squeezing her hands together in front of her. “My family knew nothing of him, and I feared the very thing that happened — that he would disappear — except I would be left ...”
Rose couldn’t say it, even to William.
“You’d be leftenceinte?”
“Precisely.”
He sliced some cheese, offered her a piece, then popped a slice into his mouth, following it with a cookie.
“Amazing that no one ever heard of this marriage.”
“Because we kept it secret. Actually,Idid. I didn’t want my family to know that I’d married in haste in case they disapproved.”
William pondered that a moment yet seemed to understand.
“You are right. They most likely would have.” He paused. “And still will.”
“No, I was wrong to do what I did. I should have gone to them first,beforeI married.” She twisted her fingers together. “I made Finn feel—”
“Dammit!” William swore softly. “Honestly, Rose, I don’t care what Bennet feels — then or now. He was a blackguard to marry you without your family’s permission, especially as young as you were.”
She pressed her lips tightly together. He had a right to be angry, and she would not waste her breath defending Finn. Instead, she spread butter and some thick strawberry jam on a slice of bread and munched on the sweet treat. It was exactly what she needed.
They continued to eat in strained silence that eventually became comfortable again. Hours later, they’d ended up back in the parlor. Having swept up the vase into a pile by the fireplace, the sat side by side on the sofa, nearly emptying the decanter of brandy.
“I’d best be getting you home,” he said.
