Page 41
“I thought it prudent to follow instructions,” he said, tilting his head.
She accepted it, her expression softening. Dominic remained seated, his hands loose upon his knees, his gaze fixed on her face while she unfolded the page.
My dear Amelia,
You say we must answer Thursday’s invitation today. Before you condemn us both to an evening of other people’s conversation, may I propose something better?
An opera next week. A walk tomorrow, if the weather allows. Your company this evening, whether we dine out or stay at home.
You may choose the hour and the gown. I shall try to be agreeable, though I reserve the right to admire you when you are being sensible.
I have been your husband for six weeks, and I still look forward to hearing you come into a room.
Entirely yours,
Dominic
P.S. I should like another opportunity to win back a cravat. My valet has begun regarding your collection as a permanent threat to his supplies.
Amelia read the final line with a smile. Then her gaze returned to the paragraph above his signature, and she stayed quiet long enough for Dominic to rise. “Have I disappointed you?”
She looked up at once. “You know very well that you have not.”
“I prefer to hear it.”
Her hand settled upon his chest, warm through his coat. “I love your letters.”
“And their author?” he asked.
She shrugged lightly. “He is tolerable.”
Dominic slipped an arm about her waist. “A remarkably generous assessment.”
“He improves with encouragement,” she said cheekily.
“Then I shall hope you continue providing it,” he told her.
She kissed him, set the letter carefully on the table, then brought both hands to his shoulders. Dominic held her close, taking his time. They had married in a small church with her friends among the guests, and he had spent the intervening weeks discovering that calling her his wife did nothing to diminish the wonder of being chosen by her.
When she drew back, he brushed a loose curl behind her ear. “What are you thinking?”
“That Charlotte will be unbearable when I show her this.”
“You intend to show her?” he asked.
“I am considering it,” she said. “She fancies herself a bit of a matchmaker. I fear Elizabeth is in her sights.”
He laughed. “Should I send Elizabeth our condolences?”
“Charlotte has become intolerable.” Amelia leaned against him, her cheek resting briefly upon his shoulder. “She has already taken considerable credit for our marriage and Daphne’s.”
“Has she?”
“She appears to believe she arranged every part of it.”
“I recall contributing something,” he said.
“So do I.” Her voice carried a warmth that made him want to keep her there for the remainder of the afternoon.
