Page 63 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Pardon?”

“A name for the donkey.”

She scrunched her nose.

“Ah, you don’t like Chauncey. How about Herbert?”

“Never.”

“Angus? Tippy?”

“You are definitely not naming our future children.”

When he drew back in surprise, she laughed and shrugged with her hands in the air. “You promised we would have children when I agreed to become your wife and join you as a traveling performer.”

“That was before you informed me that you don’t dance.”

“A promise is a promise, husband. Have you forgotten your vows so soon?”

His wide grin matched her own. “Never, my darling.”

“Splendid, because Timothy will want siblings.”

“Timothy? Are you referring to the donkey?”

She tilted her head. “I quite like the name. Sir Timothy Hackberry.”

“It’s a solid name, but I’m shocked to learn I’m already a father—and to a donkey.”

They laughed together. Exhaustion was making her silly, and she appreciated Jonathan for playing along without making her feel like a fool. The gentlemen in London hadn’t known what to make of her odd sense of humor or interest in antiquities.

The serving girl returned with two plates filled with mutton, stewed lentils, and those flat pieces of bread seasoned with rosemary and thyme that Evangeline had come to love. The girl smiled at her once more before hurrying to clear another table.

“Do we have much farther to travel before setting up our campsite?” Evangeline asked.

“Another hour if you can tolerate it. On the map, there’s a stream and olive grove where we can sleep.”

“I can tolerate it.” She would sleep like the dead, but she couldn’t quit if she wanted to keep up with the men in her field of study.

She tucked into her meal, clearing her plate in half the time it usually took. Jonathan paused with his spoon midair. “Do you want some of mine?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“We walked several hours. Are you sure?”

She snorted softly. “We is the keyword. I’m not stealing your supper.”

“Then I will order more.” He signaled for the girl.

“Jonathan…”

After their exchange, the serving girl sped back to the cauldron.

“I don’t need more food,” Evangeline whispered.

“Well, I do, and I need you to help me eat it all. No waste.”

Playfully, she groaned under her breath. “If you insist.”