“Of course he will make her an offer,” she said, smiling at him. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Then I would have to guess that she will say no,” he said. “Doesn’t she say that to everyone?”
She sighed. “Perhaps she is looking too hard for love,” she said. “Perhaps she would grow into love if she would only give herself a chance to get to know some eligible gentleman.”
“Like we did?” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, “like we did. We had no thought of loving each other when we became betrothed, did we?”
“Oh,” he said, “I had every thought of loving you, Alex. The betrothal might have been largely forced upon me, but I had every intention when I contracted it of coming to love you. And it did not take long.”
She reached back and touched his hand with her free one. “Dominic likes Miss Simpson,” she said. “She is very sweet. I like her. But is she a little young for him, Edmund?”
“There are eight years between you and me,” he said. “Are you too young for me?”
“No,” she said. “I did not mean just in years. Oh, never mind. They have only recently met. Edmund, do you know what that horrid Maisie Hardcastle told me?”
“Can’t imagine,” he said, lowering his head and nuzzling her earlobe. “Some shocking scandal, doubtless.”
“I gave her no encouragement whatsoever,” she said, “and tried my best not even to listen. But she would insist that it was her duty to tell me so that I might protect Madeline’s reputation.”
The earl snorted. “Did she, indeed?” he said. “Are you ready for bed, Alex? If we don’t go there soon, Caroline is going to be up, hungry as a bear, ready to start the day.”
She got to her feet and turned into his arms. “She said that Mrs. Simpson is the daughter of the Countess of Harrowby,” she said. “Do you know her?”
“I know of her,” he said, undoing the top button of her nightgown and moving his hands across her shoulders beneath it. “I know poor old Harrowby, of course. An alcoholic wreck, I’m afraid.”
“Maisie made a point of saying that she did not say that Mrs. Simpson was the daughter of the Earl of Harrowby,” she said.
“Quite likely, I’m afraid,” the earl said, undoing the second and third buttons of her nightgown so that he could open it back over her shoulders. “The lady has something of a spicy reputation.”
“Poor Mrs. Simpson,” she said. “Maisie will slaughter her character if she can, you know.”
“I believe she tried with you once, my love,” he said. “But I thwarted her by marrying you.”
“Thank you,” she said crossly. “We all know that without your generosity my reputation would have been in shreds forevermore. And do take that grin off your face.”
“I love you when you are prickly,” he said. “And you know very well that you married me eventually quite of your own free will. Though Christopher might have found himself in a nasty situation if you had not.”
“Edmund,” she said, catching at his wrists, “don’t do that until we are lying down, please. You know it always makes me weak at the knees.”
“Easily remedied, my love,” he said, stooping down and swinging her up into his arms.
ELLEN WAS LYING beside her husband, his arm beneath her head, as usual.
“You would not like to come?” she asked. “Tomorrow is a free day for you, Charlie, and the forest is said to be a beautiful place.”
“I would as soon stay at home, lass,” he said, “unless you really want me to come. Is it asking too much to expect you to go about everywhere with Jennifer? I am very selfish, aren’t I? I’ll come, then. I’ll come with you, Ellen.”
“No.” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “You would hate every minute of it, and I would not enjoy myself at all. But it would have been pleasant, would it not, to have been at home together tomorrow? We could have taken a stroll in the park in the afternoon. But never mind. We will have the evening. The Slatterys have invited Jennifer to the theater, remember?”
“Mm,” he said. “That will be nice, sweetheart. Would you prefer that I took you out somewhere?”
“No,” she said. “I want one of our quiet evenings at home together, Charlie. Just you and me. Just like old times.”
They lapsed into silence, and she was back in the ballroom, the music swirling in her head, the room spinning wildly about her. Noise and laughter, color and movement. The smell of a man’s cologne. She turned restlessly onto her side.
“I’m cold,” she said when her husband opened his eyes and turned his head.
“On a warm night like this, lass?” he said. “Hey, you are shivering.” He rubbed his large hands over her back and pulled the blankets close about her. “Cuddle close, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.”
“I love you, Charlie,” she said, burrowing her head beneath his chin and closing her eyes tightly. She spread her hands on his broad and warm chest. “I love you so very much. You do believe that, don’t you?”
“Of course I believe it, lass,” he said, smoothing one hand over her hair. “And you know you are my treasure and always will be. Are you feeling warmer? Lift your face to me and let me kiss you.”
She tipped back her head with an almost desperate eagerness and slid one arm up about his neck.
Chapter 4
THE SUN SHONE FROM A CLOUDLESS BLUE sky as two open barouches made their way along the Rue de la Pepiniere, out through the Namur Gate at the south end of Brussels, and on their way to the Forest of Soignes. It was a perfect day for a picnic.
Lady Madeline Raine rode in the first carriage with her friends Miss Frances Summers and Lady Anne Drummond. Ellen and Jennifer Simpson rode in the other, the picnic hamper on the seat opposite them. Colonel Huxtable, Lieutenant Penworth, Lord Eden, Captain Norton, and Sir Harding Whitworth rode beside the carriages.
Madeline twirled a yellow parasol about her head and felt determinedly happy. It was possible to feel so if one concentrated only on the warm sunshine and the beauty of the forest that was approaching, and if one looked only at the splendor of the uniforms of four of their escorts and forgot about the significance of those uniforms.
“I have never been out to the forest before,” Lady Anne said, “though I have heard that it is lovely. I did not expect the trees to be quite so large.”
The three ladies gazed about them at the beechwood trees, their trunks tall and massive, smooth and silvery.
“I always feel as if I should whisper when I am here,” Madeline said. “It is almost like being in a cathedral.”
“I believe this is where we should turn off the main road,” Colonel Huxtable said, turning back to see Lord Eden’s affirming nod, “before we reach the village of Waterloo.”
“Is this the way the French will try to come?” Lady Anne asked of no one in particular as horses and carriages turned from the wide Charleroi Chaussee and into the forest with its widely spaced trees.
“Oh, no,” Miss Summers said quite firmly. “Ferdie says that they will come from the west to try to cut off our supply lines with Ostend. That will be the best tactical move, he says.”
“I think that for the rest of today we should declare military talk strictly forbidden,” Madeline said gaily.
“I could not agree more,” Colonel Huxtable said, “for everyone knows that the French are not going to come from any direction at all. Trust his grace and the allied armies to ensure that, ladies.”
“I would regret not having had one chance to take a good poke at old Boney’s men, though,” Lieutenant Penworth added.
“Yes, a captured Eagle would be a splendid souvenir to keep in one’s ancestral castle for the rest of one’s life, would it not?” Sir Harding said in his somewhat bored voice. “Your youthful eagerness is quite exhausting, Penworth, and is boring the ladies.” He bowed from the saddle to Madeline with exaggerated courtesy.
Madeline twirled her parasol and bit back the retort that it was all very well to affect world-weariness when
