Page 75 of Impassioned
“Then we must be grateful for this moment in time when we have met and joined together as we were meant to.”
Her head lifted, her gaze meeting his. “That’s a lovely sentiment.” She lifted her glass. “To this moment in time.”
He raised his madeira, then took another drink while she did the same. “I forget what you were doing tonight. My apologies.”
She set her glass down on the hearth while she removed her gloves. “Another ball. And I am happy to report that your sister seemed to have a successful dance with Lord Glastonbury. She’s been encouraging gentlemen to call—with great subtlety, of course—in the hope that if someone, or preferably afewsomeones, pays a call, your father will stop being such a nuisance. He nags her almost daily about securing a husband.”
Constantine heard what she said, but he’d been far too fixated on the simple yet seductive act of her removing her gloves. By the time she draped them over the arm of the chair and retrieved her madeira, he was shifting in his seat to try to keep his erection at bay.
“Do you know Glastonbury?” she asked.
“Not well.” Constantine was aware that the viscount was a pugilist and quite a good one. “He boxes at a club near Covent Garden, I believe.”
“Will your father find him to be a satisfactory suitor?”
Blowing out a breath, Constantine lifted a shoulder. “That is like trying to guess tomorrow’s wind direction. I’ll do some investigating.”
“I would appreciate that, thank you.”
Constantine sipped his madeira, his gaze trapped for a moment by the fire in the grate. How domestic and satisfying this was, sitting here discussing mundane issues that were actually not mundane. “How are the preparations for the ball?”
“They’re going surprisingly well, considering the amount of time we’ve had to get everything finished.”
“Good.” Constantine wanted nothing more than his wife’s first ball to be a rousing success. He didn’t want anyone to doubt her, not his father or her family, and least of all herself.
“How are things at Westminster?” she asked. “You’ve been working awfully hard.”
“I have.” He pressed his lips together in a not-quite frown as he recalled the events of the day.
“Did something happen today? You seem…disappointed. When I mentioned Westminster,” she clarified.
He sent her a look of mild surprise. “You can tell?”
“I think I’m coming to know you.”
Yes, she was, and he was inordinately pleased by that revelation. He worked at focusing on that instead of today’s potential setback. “The Apothecaries’ Company exempted the druggists from the bill. While this prompted the druggists to withdraw their opposition, I am not certain it bodes well.”
Her brow creased. “Because they should not be exempted?”
“Not in my opinion. We must find compromise, but exemption is not the answer. I suppose I shouldn’t be disappointed—not yet anyway. However, I’ve seen how this endeavor has gone over the last many years, and it’s hard not to feel defeated.”
“Then you shall have to try to be optimistic. Sometimes believing in something is all we have.”
“You are speaking from experience now?”
“If I hadn’t believed I could come to London and face you, I wouldn’t have done it. But then, my motivation was very strong.”
To have a child.He thought of her demand as well as the fact that they hadn’t discussed it of late. Perhaps last night they’d finally found success. He wouldn’t be disappointed if they hadn’t. That just meant he could keep trying, and he was wholeheartedly committed to that endeavor.
A small but nagging voice in the back of his mind asked if that was all she wanted. Would she simply return to her solitary life at Hampton Lodge once she was pregnant? She clearly enjoyed their newfound mutual pleasure, but that was still a means to an end.
“Constantine, you didn’t tell me!” Her exclamation jolted him from his ruminations. She sprung out of her chair and flew to his desk, setting her glass down near a stack of papers as she plucked up a letter with a red wax seal.
Constantine had risen and moved toward the desk. “Is that a…phoenix in the seal?”
“Yes.” Eyes gleaming with joy, she handed it to him. “Open it.”
He turned the missive over and read the front:The Most Honorable, the Earl of Aldington. It was unmistakably for him. After setting his wine on the desk, his breath stalled in his lungs as he opened the seal. The words jumbled before him, and he had to blink before he could read them.
