“And to drink?”
“How much do you suppose they charge for their wine?”
He smiled at her warmly. “You mustn’t worry about that as long as we’re married. Whatever you like is on me.”
“I couldn’t possibly accept your—”
“Please, Leonora. It would be my pleasure.”
Her blush deepened and she averted her gaze. “But it would be wrong when I don’t even like you.”
The words were so softly spoken he almost missed them. “Are you sure about that?” Because while he was certain it might have been true that morning, he believed her opinion of him had changed during the course of their journey.
She turned her gaze toward him, her eyes conveying both doubt and hope. “I saw you speaking with Mr. Becker before we left London, and I just...I cannot believe that a friend of his, or even an acquaintance, would be the sort of person with whom I would wish to associate.”
Philip frowned. “Forgive me, but are you referring to the stout man with the silver tipped cane with whom I exchanged a few words right before you arrived?” She nodded and Philip blew out a breath. “I never met him before, but apparently he recognized me and was eager to chat.”
“Why...why would he recognize you if you did not know him?”
A waitress arrived before Philip could answer and he quickly placed their orders. When they were once again alone, he said, “I own The Gentleman’s Emporium.”
Leonora gaped at him as if he’d just sprouted carrots from his ears. “The fancy shop on Bond Street?”
“There’s another on Piccadilly, and we’ll soon be opening a new branch on The Strand, but yes, that is the one.”
She slumped back against her chair, her eyes slightly dazed. It almost looked as though she’d taken a hit to her head. “Then you must be...” Her words faded as if she was having some trouble thinking clearly. “Why on earth would you choose to travel by stagecoach when you must surely be able to afford your own carriage?”
The edge of his mouth twitched. “I can afford a lot of things. That does not mean it is wise of me to invest in all of them.” He shrugged. “I see no point in spending money on a carriage and horses, on stables and grooms and coachmen, when I can just as easily travel the same way as everyone else.”
“I see.”
“Do you really?
“Honestly?” She looked slightly lost, which lent an adorable appearance to her expression. “I’m not entirely sure.”
He nodded. “You are honest, direct, and polite, Leonora, which are all admirable qualities.”
The food arrived along with their drinks, and Philip raised his wine glass for a toast. “To our ongoing adventure.”
She bit her lip. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Dalton.”
“Philip,” he amended, not because it was strange for a wife to address her husband as she had just done but because he longed to hear her say it.
“Very well, Philip.” The sweetness of her voice was almost poetic. “I must ask your forgiveness, for I fear I misjudged you entirely. It was badly done and—”
“Completely forgotten as long as you answer my toast by drinking some wine.”
She smiled and took a quick sip. “Oh. That is rather good.” She allowed herself to take another swallow while he watched, his stomach tightening at the sight of her lips pressing softly against the rim of the glass. Lord give him strength. “In all honesty, however, I allowed myself to draw some unfair conclusions about you, for which I am truly sorry.”
Sensing she would not let this matter rest until he said what she needed to hear, he reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. An immediate charge went through him, leaving sparks of desire in its wake. She wasn't wearing gloves and neither was he, and by god, he should have known better than to touch her like this.
Forcing himself to meet her gaze, he immediately noticed her dilated pupils, like two north stars guiding him to her. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry even though he’d just had the wine. “You mustn’t worry about that anymore,” he somehow managed to say. “I accept your apology. Now eat your soup before it goes cold.”
She did as he suggested, and he gave his attention to his own soup. They ate in silence, which was yet another thing he appreciated about her. She did not seem to require constant conversation and yet the lack of it wasn’t uncomfortable. Quite the contrary.
“Would you like some cake for dessert?” he asked when they were both done eating. “Perhaps some tea to go with it?”
“I do not wish to impose.”
