Mr. Gelhorn’s eyes lit.
The newspapers and gossip sheets did adore their alliteration. She’d just given a gift to them.
“This might be a delicate subject, Lady Montcroix—shall I call you Lady Montcroix now, or do you consider it premature?”
“If you choose to do it, I shan’t object,” she allowed sweetly.
“—but I wondered if you’d like to comment on your recent incarceration in Newgate.”
His eyes gleamed. He clearly thought he’d effected an ambush out of earshot of her big husband.
She didn’t blink. “Oh, I saw that article. How silly, don’t you think, that anyone wouldwritesuch a thing?” She sounded puzzled. “You seem like such a nice person. I hope you didn’t write that article, sir.”
After a moment, Mr. Gelhorn’s cheeks stained pink. Which answered the question.
“I did see the illustration, too. I can’t imagine what the talented Mr. Rowlandson was thinking. But doesn’t he have a gift for satire and for capturing the tenor of our times? It’s always healthy to laugh at ourselves a little. I thought it was rather amusing, but I was also a little puzzled. Do I look like the sort of person who would ever spend a moment in prison? Or do combat with English soldiers, especially considering my husband is one of the most greatest soldiers of all?”
She gazed shamelessly and limpidly into his eyes.
“DearGod, no,” he replied faintly. Dazzled.
“Silly, then, wasn’t it?” She laughed merrily.
“Silly,” he repeated dazedly.
“And I imagine you’ve such a challenging job and it’s so difficult to get facts correct all of the time, but my goodness, one would think a man of my husband’s caliber should be allowed a moment’s peace after all he’s given to our country.Perhaps you’d consider writing an article lauding him? As a favor to me? It would mean so much and he deserves all of that and more.” She said it softly, almost wistfully.
Mr. Gelhorn was visibly shrinking with remorse.
The shadow that fell across the two of them signaled the arrival of her husband at her side.
“Colonel Brightwall, ah, Lord Montcroix. Congratulations, sir.” Mr. Gelhorn bowed. “I understand the Letters Patent have been prepared. I wonder if you might share with the readers ofThe Timesyour thoughts on that, and your return to England.”
If Magnus was surprised to hear this, not a twitch betrayed it.
He fixed the man with his patented stern gaze long enough for Mr. Gelhorn to shift his feet guiltily. The writer knew ambushing Brightwall’s wife hadn’t precisely been cricket, and Magnus wanted him to know that he knew. “I am more honored than I can adequately express to be styled the Earl of Montcroix, and tremendously happy indeed to be back in my beloved England, for many reasons.” He gazed down at Alexandra meaningfully. “I fear we must now take our leave of you. Shall we?”
From his vantage point of superior height, Magnus could see the pages of the little journal Gelhorn carried with him. The man had written:
“...Newgate stay was nonsense.”
“...wife blushed.”
Chapter Eleven
The crowd hadn’t yet dispersed, but Magnus looped his arm through Alexandra’s and steered her deftly through a pair of tall, scrupulously groomed hedges onto a path, whereupon they undertook a somewhat circuitous route toward where the carriage waited for them.
Alexandra assumed the point was to evade any straggling well-wishers. Presently the hubbub of voices gave way to the songs of birds and the wind rushing through the trees.
He hadn’t dropped his arm. Her hand didn’t seem to want to relinquish its light grip upon it, either.
“Were you surprised to hear about the Letters Patent?” she asked.
“Yes, damn the man for springing it upon me,” Magnus said good-naturedly enough.
Alexandra laughed.
“I’m so pleased for you, Magnus,” she said gently. Almost shyly.
