Page 39 of The Luckiest Lady in London

“And now that, too, is behind you. What plans do you have for yourself?”

She straightened the sleeve of her new traveling dress, a stylish, yet understated piece in charcoal grey—a garment that did not draw attention to itself, yet upon close examination, proved to be of flawless construction and exemplary fit. He did not believe that it had come by this state of inconspicuous perfection by accident: She would have given quite a bit of thought to how she wished to appear as Lady Wrenworth and must have decided that she preferred to let him have the limelight, but also to present herself in such a way that no one should be able to find fault in his choice of wife.

“Between fittings for my gown and trousseau, shopping with my family, and answering all the questions from Lady Balfour and your secretary concerning the wedding,” she said, straightening her other sleeve, “I haven’t had a minute to think about the future.”

“Liar. You’d stop breathing before you stop preparing for what’s coming next. What is it you are scheming about now?”

Her eyes were wide and limpid as she answered, “I have a thirty-room house, five thousand pounds a year, and a good telescope, not to mention Messier’s Catalogue. There is nothing left worthy of maneuvers.”

He rested his head on his palm. “But you are ambitious. I’ll bet you have tried to read astronomical journals, when you could get your hands on them. And I’ll bet you found it difficult, because you have had a woeful education, particularly in the area of mathematics.”

“I am not innumerate.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can calculate a household budget and a man’s wealth very well. But can you solve an equation?”

She looked as if he’d accused her of rampant honesty. “Of course I can solve an equation. I can solve paired equations.”

“What about quadratic equations?”

She flattened her lips. “No.”

“Do you know anything about trigonometry?”

“No.”

“Non-Euclidean geometry?”

“No.”

He set one hand beneath his chin and considered her.

“You make me nervous,” she said quietly.

“Because now I know you would like to be fluent in calculus?”

She sighed. “Because you read me like an open book, when I know I am not. I am no more transparent than a slab of slate—or at least I shouldn’t be.”

With anyone else, he would simply smile and let that be the end of it. But it was his wedding day, he had vowed to cherish her, and he was feeling very charitable.

“Then let me tell you this. Everything I need to know about you, I already learned the first night we met. And yet after I’ve read you like an open book all this while, you still remain something of a conundrum.”

This mollified her enough for the set of her shoulders to relax. “So…I don’t trust you and you don’t understand me.”

He laughed despite himself. “No wonder we get along so well.”

A beat of silence passed. She turned her face slightly to the side and glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “So what should we do now that we’ve established that our marriage is based on ignorance and general misgiving?”

He leaned forward. “Do you play cards, my dear Lady Wrenworth?”

* * *

She not only played cards, but proved to be one of the best Felix had ever played against.

“Where did you learn to play like this?” he exclaimed after she had taken yet another round from him.

“At home. We’ve no books and no instruments—guess what we did to pass time.”

“Do you count cards?”