“I must have forgotten.”
“You did no such thing,” Carrie challenged him. She hoped to get a rise out of him, and they could laugh about it. It would restore good feelings between them. “You avoided it on purpose.”
“How poor is your opinion of me,” he said ruefully.
She laughed. “You, sir, are a scoundrel.”
He smiled. “The fair sex can be so harsh on us, poor gentlemen.”
“Poor, indeed,” she huffed.
Nicholas had the gall to wink at Anna, who traitorously giggled.
The excellent pork and potatoes which followed warmed her and made her think more clearly. Had she disappointed him? She would hate that more than anything. Trouble was, she feared she would do so again because he made her so frustrated. When her stomach coiled in a knot, she wanted to throw herself against him and pummel his chest. She wanted him to know she loved him. The shock of admitting her true feelings rendered her silent.
They returned to the coach, the fresh horses held in check by the coachman. Although the coach springs were excellent, Carrie was stiff and sore. It would be some hours before they reached the outskirts of London.
While Nicholas had words with the ostler and paid their bill, she and Anna attempted to make themselves comfortable with carriage rugs. “You must be so excited to be going to London at last,” Anna said, tucking away a bandbox.
“I can hardly wait,” Carrie said as Nicholas took his seat. “I just know I’m going to have a wonderful time.” She patted the maid’s arm. “And perhaps there’s a handsome footman there to flirt with you.”
Anna put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Oh, no. They do not permit such behavior from servants.”
“What nonsense, Anna. Several servants married at Leeming. Father used to say it was something in the water.”
When Nicholas chuckled, Carrie looked into his laughing eyes and felt a good deal better.
“I read Keats’sEndymionlast night,” Nicholas said, surprising her.
She sat forward. “You did? What did you think of it?”
“Didn’t the goddess Selene’s kiss put Endymion to sleep forever? I don’t find that particularly appealing.”
She frowned at him. “Well, if you will not discuss the poem sensibly.”
“I found Keats’s poem incoherent in its style and somewhat whimsical. The idea of searching and finding an ideal love based on a Greek myth bears no relation to life.”
“Your reaction doesn’t surprise me. But the theme of the poem is ideal beauty,” Carrie protested. “Keats says ‘a thing of beauty is a joy forever.’ Beauty is a constant source of happiness and pleasure. It is timeless.”
“Beauty can be what we see beyond this window, nature in its spring finery. It can be the love of a newborn child. Even a foal. In this poem, Keats searches for joy in the wrong place to ease discontentment. Life is real, Carrie. You know that as well as I.”
“And love between a man and a woman? You don’t mention that.”
“It goes without saying.”
“My father would disagree with your assessment.”
“I’m not sure he would. Max was a historian. He wasn’t inclined to wax lyrically about poetry.”
“Papa promised to take me to Greece to visit those places which inspired the poets.”
“Did he?” Nicholas’s gaze sought hers, reflecting her sorrow. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to do so,” he said after a moment.
Carrie was sure he was sorry, but how could someone as regimented as Nicholas ever understand her need for adventure? She fell silent and gazed out the window.
“We’ll be in London well before dark,” he said.
She nodded without turning to look at him.
