Page 110 of His Lessons on Love
She didn’t answer at first. She led him toward the horses and the coaches. “Do you remember what we were doing at the last Cotillion?”
“Arguing?”
She laughed. “Yes, we were.” She stopped at a coach set apart from the coaches in the line.Hiscoach. It was dark here in the shadow of the hemlocks.
For a second, Mars could barely breathe as he remembered how miserable he’d been that night. “I escaped the dance to sit inside here and drink.” He didn’t even have a flask on his person this evening.
“And I escaped out here because I had learned my life was not going to go the way I had planned. You gave me good advice that night. Without you, I would be Mrs. Thurlowe.”
“I like the advice I gave, although I can’t imagine anything I said was very wise.”
She smiled. “It wasn’t, except youwerehonest.” She moved to the coach door and opened it. “And I thought, perhaps we should reenactthat night but with a different result?” There was a lift in her voice, a hint of desire. She stepped up to sit on the edge of the seat. The extra height put her on his level. She pulled on the knot of his neckcloth, pulling it loose so he could not mistake her meaning. “Well, my lord?”
“You are the most perfect wife in the world,” he said.
“Then join me and show me all the ways in which I am perfect,” she whispered, and he was happy to oblige.
