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“Do you suppose me to have an interest in teapots then, Mrs. Kitteridge?” he asked, his lips quirking in a teasing smile. “I thought my interest lay in watches.”
She laughed, a delightful sound. “Oh, you are horrible to throw that back in my face. Though I don’t recall you calling me out on my small fib.”
“Well, now, why on earth would I have? It extricated me from Mr. Pickering, after all.”
She grinned up at him, and he was struck again by the extraordinary prettiness of her features. Tonight she wore her hair in intricate braids, interwoven with seed pearls to match the single pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat. Her dress was a deep amethyst, a simple but elegant creation that hugged her full bosom and fell in gentle folds to the ground.
He realized in that moment that he had never seen her in anything but varying shades of purple and gray. Both were the colors of half-mourning; she must have loved her husband deeply to be grieving his loss still, so long after his passing.
It was a sobering thought, and one that must have showed on his face if the sudden worry in her eyes was any indication.
“Are you well, Your Grace? Goodness, perhaps you’re right and this was too much for you in such a short time.” She frowned, seeming to look over the crowd with new eyes, then eyeing the door as if weighing the possibility of an early escape.
He gave her a wry smile. “You seemed much more confident a half hour ago.”
To her credit, she blushed. “Yes, well. Mayhap I was a tad optimistic.”
“A tad?”
She grinned. “Very well, a bit more than a tad. But we don’t have a terribly forgiving amount of time. We have just over three weeks, after all.”
“I’m certain we can extend the deadline if it means finding a bride,” he said.
But he didn’t expect the look of strain to appear on her face. “No,” she declared with a finality that brooked no argument, “it will have to be in the time we agreed upon and no more.”
Before he could quiz her on such a surprisingly stringent rule, however, her expression shifted. “However, though we’re working under a fixed deadline, you truly must let me know if my suggestions make you at all uncomfortable. I’m afraid I can get quite enthusiastic, and I wouldn’t want you to feel I’m running rampant over you.”
The mention of her enthusiasm had his brain veering off into wholly improper avenues. Namely, where else she might show that enthusiasm, especially if that place had anything to do with a bed…
Forcefully burying such thoughts—there was no way he was going to think of this woman in such a way—he considered returning to the matter at hand and questioning her on her timeline. But one look at her face and he thought better of it. She obviously had her reasons. And after all, the quicker he found a wife the better he would be.
“I admit I was nervous,” he said instead. “But I am surprisingly comfortable. Or, at least, as comfortable as one can be amid staring strangers. Though after your expert managing, I’m not sure how I’ll navigate London without you.”
He had meant it as a joke. Yet a strange melancholy entered her eyes, one that he felt mirrored deep in his soul. Before he could make heads or tails of her reaction—and what exactly it meant—a pleasant voice sounded close by.
“Mrs. Kitteridge, how nice to see you here. Oh! And you as well, Your Grace.”
“Miss Peacham, good evening. This is a pleasure,” Mrs. Kitteridge said with a smile. When the woman, the young proprietress of the Beakhead Tea Room, would have passed them by with a nod, however, Mrs. Kitteridge spoke. “His Grace was just telling me how much he enjoyed the ices we sampled at your establishment yesterday.”
The woman stopped her hasty exit and blushed, nodding her thanks to Daniel. “I’m so glad you enjoyed them. And which was your favorite?”
Daniel, caught off guard—for they most certainly hadn’t been discussing ices before the young woman’s arrival—felt his face heat. “Er—I think—that is—”
“It was the barberry, wasn’t it, Your Grace?” Mrs. Kitteridge interjected smoothly. “I do think I recall you declaring that the superior flavor.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed. With much more force than the subject warranted, if the startled look on Miss Peacham’s face was any indication. He cleared his throat. “That is, yes, I did enjoy the barberry very much. Thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It’s my favorite as well. Though I should probably not admit as much, for it would be like choosing a favorite child.” When Daniel, at a loss for what to say to that, merely gave her a sickly smile, she looked to Mrs. Kitteridge. “But where is your grandmother? Is she not here this evening?”
“She was of a mind to stay in this evening with Her Grace,” Mrs. Kitteridge replied. “Apparently they wished to have an evening without, as my grandmother so subtly said, ‘you interfering young people rationing my good liquor.’ But I managed to talk her into accompanying us. She is in her customary place at the front of the room.”
Miss Peacham laughed. “That does sound like your grandmother. But I’m so glad you were able to persuade her. I was looking forward to her scathing comments, and now I may indulge myself in them when I see her.”
“Ah, yes,” Mrs. Kitteridge said with a wry twist to her lips. “Gran does add spice to an evening. But shall we find a seat together? I do believe the concert is about to begin.”
They were soon seated, Daniel somehow maneuvered between the two. Which did nothing at all for his comfort. He wasn’t a small man, after all, and in an effort to keep his bulk from spilling over into the ladies’ spaces, he tucked his arms as tight as he could against his sides and held himself as still as possible. He had dealt with long marches and biting cold and all manner of inhumane conditions during his time in the army; surely he could manage an evening seated between two women listening to an amateur musicale.
As the rest of the attendees moved to their seats, however, creating a cacophony of conversation and laughter and shifting of chairs, Daniel was painfully aware of the silence between himself and the two women. Mayhap, he thought a bit wildly, he had been a bit optimistic that this type of situation would be at all comfortable for him.
