Oh, her smile.
“Where do you want to have your tea, Lady Danforth?” He was sure she was going to say she wanted in her bedchamber, on a tray.
“Where are you going now, George?”
“To my study.”
“Can I have it in your study?”
Hallelujah.
“Yes, but—” He held up a forefinger. “Only if you promise to scatter crumbs everywhere.”
She giggled. “I promise.”
A giggle. A giggle to go with her smile. And she wanted to be where he was. Suddenly, she seemed herself. His Phoebe.
She had tea and three biscuits in front of the fire and he joined her to eat one. She leaned back in her chair.
“Let’s play.”
“You don’t have to do this for me—”
“I know. I’ve thought about it. I’ve had a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I do like chess.”
“Good.”
“George,” she said warningly.
“I mean I’m just happy there’s something you like. That’s all.”
He set up the pieces.
“There’s something else I like besides chess.”
He continued to set up the chess pieces, but suddenly a peculiar ache blossomed in his throat.Please say me.
He coughed. “What’s that?”
“Why haven’t you come to me?”
He looked at her. She was looking down at the carpet. He wasn’t expecting this. He thought he knew what she meant, but it seemed very dangerous at this moment to make assumptions.
“Come to you?”
“In my bed, at night. Not in the morning, when I’m vomiting.”
“You haven’t felt well.”
“Yes. But—" She raised her head and stuck out her chin. “I think it would make me feel better.”
“I’ll come to you if you would like it.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want it as a kindness from you to me.”
“Phee. You know I’m not kind. I’m a selfish arse, you know that. I want you.” He took a deep breath. “I want you right now.”
She turned pink. “Shall we go upstairs?”
