Page 26 of Suddenly a Bride
He knew from experience how little that paid. Where was the dowry her Langston mother must have brought to the marriage?
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Three sisters,” she said.
To his fascination she laughed, and he tried not to stare like an unseasoned squire at her lovely face.
“So you can imagine my father’s relief that one of us married. It gives hope to the others.”
He wanted to say that if her sisters looked anything like her, they wouldn’t have a problem. But such words would only encourage her.
“Caroline is three years younger than I am, and she is a very composed lady compared to me.”
“How old are you?” he suddenly asked.
“I have twenty-three years,” she said, her voice more subdued. “Does it bother you much that I am so old?”
“Old? I am one and thirty—does it bother you?”
She grinned, and he regretted adding to the conversation, because just looking at her made him think of what he wanted to do with her.
“Of course it does not bother me. A girl expects her husband to be older. Caroline is twenty, and I do worry about her sometimes.”
“Why?”
“She has never been the healthiest girl, and it makes her seem so fragile. But we are the dearest of friends, and I miss her terribly. Athelina, who has seventeen years, is quite intelligent and borrows books from her friends whenever she can. I do worry that she’s more interested in reading than in men. Lydia has fourteen years and is almost a son to Papa with her boyish ways. I fear she does not wish to grow up. But she has time yet.”
He listened to the love in her voice, her worries, and he wondered how much of it was true. “And what did you do before you married me?”
She smiled and eyed him. “You do not think I was waiting for a husband, do you?”
“And why not?”
“I was too busy,” she said with a shrug. “There was much baking to be done. It is how we help Papa. Our tarts and cakes and breads are very popular in the city.”
“Not many women would do such a thing.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” she asked in a puzzled voice.
God above, how could she even be related to Elizabeth? Or was her goodness part of the earl’s plot, with some hidden purpose he had yet to discover?
Edmund looked down at the food he hadn’t begun to eat because he’d been so fascinated watching Gwyneth’s face. He took his fork and eating knife out of a pouch at his waist and cut himself a piece of mutton.
She leaned toward him, her eyes wide.
“What is wrong?” he asked, frowning. He wanted to back away, as her very nearness tested his restraint. Smelling her scent would be his undoing.
“That is just like the large serving forks we use in the kitchen, only smaller,” she said. “I have never seen such a thing before.”
“I purchased it in France. ’Tis very useful.”
“Might I try it?”
“I have only one.”
“If you don’t mind, I shall try yours.”
His mind stumbled to a halt as she took the fork from his hand, pierced her meat and raised it to her lips. Watching her mouth touch what had been in his mouth sent a shudder through him, but he didn’t look away—couldn’t look away. Her gaze rose to lock with his as she slowly slid the fork from her mouth. When she smiled, there was a touch of gravy at the corner of her lip. He imagined licking it away, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth for the real taste of her.
