“No.” He smiled grimly. “Think you this is a pleasant conversation for the breakfast table?”
She didn’t back down from him. “Should not a wife know about her husband?”
“My time in the army is not everything I am.”
“No, but I think it is a fair part of you.”
And what could he say to that? She was right. Somehow she knew, though he didn’t think he’d given any sign. She knew he was changed, forever scarred and diminished, by what had happened in the north woods of America. Did he wear it like a badge of the devil? Could she see what he was? Did she know somehow of his deepest shame?
No, she must not. If she knew, her face would hold contempt. He looked down as he broke apart the rest of his bun.
“Perhaps you no longer want to accompany me this morning?” his wife asked softly.
He looked up at that. Sly creature. “I don’t scare that easily.”
Her eyes widened a bit. Perhaps his smile had shown too much teeth. Perhaps she’d seen Kps ighthe thing that lurked beneath. But she was brave, his wife.
“Then tell me,” she said, “about the army.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he lied. “I was a captain in the 28th.”
“That was Lord St. Aubyn’s rank as well,” Melisande said. “You bought your commissions together?”
“Yes.” So young, so thickheaded. He’d been mostly interested in the dashing uniform.
“I never knew Emeline’s brother,” Melisande said. “Not well, at least. I only saw him once or twice. What was he like?”
He swallowed the last of his bun, trying to buy time. He thought of Reynaud’s crooked grin, his dark laughing eyes. “Reynaud always knew he would someday inherit the earldom, and he spent his life rehearsing for that day.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “As a boy, he was too serious. That burden of responsibility marks a man, even when he’s but a child. Richard was the same way.”
“Your elder brother,” she murmured.
“Yes. He and Reynaud were more alike.” His mouth twisted at the old realization. “Reynaud should’ve chosen him as a friend, not me.”
“But perhaps Reynaud saw in you something that he himself lacked.”
He cocked his head and smiled. The idea that he should possess a feature that Richard, his perfect elder brother, lacked seemed comical. “What?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Your joy of life?”
He stared at her. Did she really see joy of life in the shell that was all that remained of him? “Perhaps.”
“I think so. You were a friend full of delight and mischief,” she said, and then, almost to herself, “How could he resist you?”
“You don’t know that.” His teeth scraped together. “You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?” She rose from the table. “I think you’d be surprised how much I know you. Ten minutes, then?”
“What?” He was caught flat-footed and blinking up at his wife like a fool.
She smiled. Maybe she had a love of fools. “I’ll be ready to go shopping in ten minutes.”
And she slipped from the breakfast room, leaving him confused and intrigued.
MELISANDE WAS STANDING by the carriage consulting with Suchlike when Vale emerged from the town house a short time later. He ran down the front steps and sauntered over.
“Are you ready?” Melisande asked.
He spread his arms. “I am at your disposal, my lady wife.” He nodded to Suchlike. “You may go.”
The little maid flushed and looked worriedly at Melisande. Suchl Klisheiike usually came on these outings to consult with wardrobe selections and to carry packages. Vale was watching her, too, waiting to see if she’d object.
Melisande smiled tightly and nodded at the maid. “Perhaps you can do that mending.”
Suchlike bobbed a curtsy and went into the town house.
When Melisande turned back to Vale, he was eyeing Mouse, who was standing against her skirts.
She spoke before he could dismiss her dog as well. “Sir Mouse always accompanies me.”
“Ah.”
She nodded, glad that at least was established, and mounted the steps to the carriage. She settled on the plush seat that faced the front, and Mouse hopped up beside her. Vale sat facing her, his long legs stretched diagonally across the floor. It had seemed like a large—even huge—vehicle until he entered, and then the space was filled with male elbows and knees.
He knocked on the roof and looked across at her, catching her frowning at his legs. “Anything wrong?”
“Not at all.”
She glanced out the window. It seemed strange to be confined with him in such a small space. Too intimate somehow. And that was an odd thought. She’d had sexual congress with this man, had danced with him only the night before, and had had the audacity to strip off his shirt and shave him. Yet those things had been done in the night, lit only by candlelight. Somehow she found it easier to be relaxed at night. The shadows made her brave. Perhaps she really was the mistress of the night, as he called her. And if so, did that make him master of the day?
She watched him, struck by the thought. He sought her out mainly during the daylight hours. Stalked her in the sunlight. He might like to go to balls and gaming hells at night, but it was during the day that he sought to discover her secrets. Was it because he sensed that she felt more weak exposed to sunlight? Or because he was stronger in the day?
Or maybe both?
“Do you take it everywhere?”
She glanced at him, her thoughts scattered. “What?”
“Your dog.” He pointed his chin at Mouse, curled on the seat beside her. “Does it go everywhere with you?”
“Sir Mouse is a him, not an it,” she said firmly. “And, yes, I do like taking him places that he might enjoy.”
Vale’s eyebrows shot up. “The dog enjoys shopping?”
“He likes carriage rides.” She stroked Mouse’s soft nose. “Haven’t you ever had any pets?”
“No. Well, there was a cat when I was a boy, but it never came when I called it and had a habit of scratching when displeased. It was often displeased, I’m afraid.”
“What was its name?”
“Cat.”
She l Ksizeigooked at him. His face was solemn, but there was a diabolical gleam in his blue eyes.
“And you?” he asked. “Did you have pets as a child, my fair wife?”