you, Aurora.”
“I didn’t mean you should marry her, silly. I just thought you might know of some kind family that would take her in for a few months or something.”
“I suppose she may stay on long enough to travel to Derby with us, if that’s what you wish. There is always an empty cottage or an old pensioner who needs assistance with chores.”
“I knew you could make things right!” Aurora leaned over the table and kissed his cheek.
“Hmm, I wonder how you’d show your gratitude if I found a home for your pet pickpocket, Ned.”
Aurora laughed, blushing at her own daring. “Needles is no thief. And he found his own home. He’s going to be my page.”
“Fustian. Pages went out of fashion with the Middle Ages.”
“Chivalry lives on,” she told him, patting his arm before reaching for her fork, “so why not page boys?”
She thought of him as a knight in shining armor? Kenyon’s heart swelled. So did other organs, to think the night might yet end amorously. He moved his chair closer still.
“So how was your afternoon?” Aurora asked hurriedly, before he could press her further.
Kenyon sighed, but addressed himself to the veal roulades instead of the delectable morsel at his side. “Not quite so eventful as yours, I daresay. The doddering old fools at the War Office have no news of my brother’s release, and your family’s solicitor confirms that you have no fortune. Had no fortune, that is, for mine is enough for both of us. At least I thought it would be, before you set out to give it all away.” He quickly held up one hand. “I am teasing, my dear.” He was also intending to get her out of Town before London’s underworld discovered what an easy mark his mutton-headed wife was.
“You’re truly not upset about my lack of dowry, Kenyon?”
He raised her hand—the one not holding the fork—and kissed her fingers. “A good heart is worth more than all the gold on earth. On the other hand, I still cannot help wondering about Podell’s motives. Don’t fly up in the boughs, my dear, but the man was a confirmed cad and a wanted criminal. He’d not have chanced a public wedding, with the banns being called three times and published for all to see, unless he expected a windfall in return, no matter how fond he might have been.”
“I have been thinking of what you said earlier, too, and I have to conclude that Harland never truly loved me, despite his oaths of eternal devotion. A man truly in love wouldn’t lie or cheat or chance destroying his beloved’s reputation the way he did. But I had no fortune for him to be hunting, so I have concluded that he…he simply desired me.”
Now Kenyon made the biggest mistake of his life, after marrying Genevieve and trying to ride that man-hating stallion when he was seventeen. He regarded his pretty young wife through his quizzing glass, noting the demure, high-necked gown that hid a sweet but far from voluptuous figure, the clear complexion innocent of cosmetics, the honest blue eyes, and he laughed.
Which was indeed a very big mistake, unless he had been wishing to create a new style of neckcloth: the trône d’asparagus .
Chapter Seven
“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”
“Then how are we going to get to know each other, my pet?”
“I don’t care if I ever get to know you, you insensitive clod. In fact, the more I do know of you, the less I like, so you would do better on your own side of the door.”
“But I cannot apologize through the wood, Aurora. Besides, you missed dessert. I brought a bowl of strawberries and cream.”
“Fresh strawberries?”
“Large, ripe, juicy ones. And fresh, sweet cream—perhaps from the cows right nearby in Green Park.”
Aurora opened the door, accepted the tray, and would have shut the door in his face if her hands were free. As if he could read her mind, Kenyon stepped inside the room before she had the chance to close the barrier between them again. He noted the angry spots of
“I didn’t mean you should marry her, silly. I just thought you might know of some kind family that would take her in for a few months or something.”
“I suppose she may stay on long enough to travel to Derby with us, if that’s what you wish. There is always an empty cottage or an old pensioner who needs assistance with chores.”
“I knew you could make things right!” Aurora leaned over the table and kissed his cheek.
“Hmm, I wonder how you’d show your gratitude if I found a home for your pet pickpocket, Ned.”
Aurora laughed, blushing at her own daring. “Needles is no thief. And he found his own home. He’s going to be my page.”
“Fustian. Pages went out of fashion with the Middle Ages.”
“Chivalry lives on,” she told him, patting his arm before reaching for her fork, “so why not page boys?”
She thought of him as a knight in shining armor? Kenyon’s heart swelled. So did other organs, to think the night might yet end amorously. He moved his chair closer still.
“So how was your afternoon?” Aurora asked hurriedly, before he could press her further.
Kenyon sighed, but addressed himself to the veal roulades instead of the delectable morsel at his side. “Not quite so eventful as yours, I daresay. The doddering old fools at the War Office have no news of my brother’s release, and your family’s solicitor confirms that you have no fortune. Had no fortune, that is, for mine is enough for both of us. At least I thought it would be, before you set out to give it all away.” He quickly held up one hand. “I am teasing, my dear.” He was also intending to get her out of Town before London’s underworld discovered what an easy mark his mutton-headed wife was.
“You’re truly not upset about my lack of dowry, Kenyon?”
He raised her hand—the one not holding the fork—and kissed her fingers. “A good heart is worth more than all the gold on earth. On the other hand, I still cannot help wondering about Podell’s motives. Don’t fly up in the boughs, my dear, but the man was a confirmed cad and a wanted criminal. He’d not have chanced a public wedding, with the banns being called three times and published for all to see, unless he expected a windfall in return, no matter how fond he might have been.”
“I have been thinking of what you said earlier, too, and I have to conclude that Harland never truly loved me, despite his oaths of eternal devotion. A man truly in love wouldn’t lie or cheat or chance destroying his beloved’s reputation the way he did. But I had no fortune for him to be hunting, so I have concluded that he…he simply desired me.”
Now Kenyon made the biggest mistake of his life, after marrying Genevieve and trying to ride that man-hating stallion when he was seventeen. He regarded his pretty young wife through his quizzing glass, noting the demure, high-necked gown that hid a sweet but far from voluptuous figure, the clear complexion innocent of cosmetics, the honest blue eyes, and he laughed.
Which was indeed a very big mistake, unless he had been wishing to create a new style of neckcloth: the trône d’asparagus .
Chapter Seven
“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”
“Then how are we going to get to know each other, my pet?”
“I don’t care if I ever get to know you, you insensitive clod. In fact, the more I do know of you, the less I like, so you would do better on your own side of the door.”
“But I cannot apologize through the wood, Aurora. Besides, you missed dessert. I brought a bowl of strawberries and cream.”
“Fresh strawberries?”
“Large, ripe, juicy ones. And fresh, sweet cream—perhaps from the cows right nearby in Green Park.”
Aurora opened the door, accepted the tray, and would have shut the door in his face if her hands were free. As if he could read her mind, Kenyon stepped inside the room before she had the chance to close the barrier between them again. He noted the angry spots of
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