The lively smile she tried to suppress told him she had warmed to the idea of being a mother, even though her voice strove for nonchalance. “And the four eldest will, quite naturally, cling to the memories of their own mother,” she said.
“Most likely. But I daresay you will lift a huge burden from Emily’s shoulders.”
His bride eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. “Emily is very dear to you, is she not?”
“Very.”
“You said she is a blonde?”
He nodded.
“I expect she’s quite lovely.”
“You’ll have to judge for yourself. I find her so.”
“As does Peter, obviously. Tell me, how long have they fancied themselves in love?”
“I can’t remember a time when she didn’t insist that she’d grow up and marry him.”
“Oh, dear, a mind-set like that is not easy to break.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She resumed peering out the window, and neither of them spoke for the next half hour. Then she turned back to him and said, “I should like to learn more of you.”
That she was thinking of him was his first chink into her stiff formality. He gave her a warm look as he moved from the seat facing her to sit beside her. Her lashes lowered modestly as he drew her hand into his.
“What would you like to know?” he murmured. Was this to be the breakthrough he sought?
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