She smiled—slightly wider now, though it faded just as easily. “We are calling upon Eleanor. She insisted, and I find I am less inclined to refuse her when she insists.”
“That is wise.”
“So I have been told.”
The conversation drifted then, as it often did now, without effort. It did not require tending. Silence, when it came, settled just as easily as speech.
Maxwell watched her as she spoke, noting changes that had come without announcement. The way her hand rested more naturally against the carriage wall when she turned toward him. The way she no longer hesitated to meet his gaze, even when the subject shifted into more uncertain ground.
There was no tension in it.
No sense of something waiting to be resolved.
It simply was.
“You are thinking,” she said suddenly.
“I often do.”
“Not in this way.”
Maxwell’s gaze shifted slightly. “And how is that?”
“As though you are deciding something.”
He considered denying it.
Instead, he said, “Perhaps I am.”
Arabella tilted her head, studying him more closely now. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is not meant to be.”
“Then I shall reserve judgment until I know what it is.”
The carriage slowed slightly as they turned, light shifting across the interior in uneven patterns. Maxwell watched it briefly before returning his attention to her.
“There has been discussion,” he said, “regarding the manner in which our marriage began.”
Her expression did not change, though something in her eyes sharpened. “There has.”
“And how it is perceived.”
“That as well.”
Maxwell inclined his head. “It has occurred to me that we have allowed others to define it by those beginnings.”
Arabella’s gaze held his. “We did not encourage them.”
“No,” he agreed. “But neither did we correct them.”
She considered that, her fingers tracing lightly along the seam of her glove before stilling. “And you believe that should change.”
“I do.”
A brief pause settled between them.
“And how would you propose we do that?”
