Ellie smiled. "What is the next item on the list?"
He looked down. "Let me see. Ah, here we are. 'Number Five: Bring the dressmaker by with fabric samples and patterns.'" He glanced back up at her. "I can hardly believe we haven't done this already. You're not well enough for a proper fitting, but at least we ought to be able to select a few styles and colors. I'm growing most weary of seeing you in nothing but brown."
"My father was given several bolts of brown cloth as a tithe two years ago. I haven't acquired a colored dress since."
"A most grievous state of affairs."
"Are you such an arbiter of fashion, then?"
"Certainly more so than the good reverend, your father."
"On that point, my lord, we are in agreement."
He leaned in until his nose rested on hers. "Am I really your lord, Eleanor?"
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "Social protocol does seem to dictate that I refer to you as such."
He sighed and clutched his chest in mock despair. "If you dance as nimbly as you converse, I predict that you shall be the toast of the town."
"Certainly not if I don't purchase a new gown or two. It wouldn't do to attend every function in brown."
"Ah yes, the ever-so-subtle reminder to me to return to the subject at hand." He held up the paper in his hands, flicked his wrists to give it a little snap, and read, " 'Number Six: Discuss with her the terms of her new bank account.' "
Ellie's entire face lit up. "You're interested?"
"Of course."
"Yes, but compared to your finances, my three hundred pounds is a paltry sum. It can't be very important to you."
He cocked his head and looked at her as if she was missing some very obvious point. "But it is to you."
Right then and there Ellie decided that she loved him. As much as one could decide these things, of course. The realization was shocking, and somewhere in her befuddled mind it occurred to her that this feeling had been building up in her ever since he'd proposed. There was something so very ... special about him.
It was there in the way he could laugh at himself.
It was there in the way he could make her laugh at herself.
It was there in the way he made certain to give Judith a goodnight kiss every night.
But most of all, it was there in the way he respected her talents and anticipated her needs—and in the way his eyes had filled with pain when she'd been hurt, as if he'd felt each and every one of her burns on his own skin.
He was a better man than she'd realized when she'd said, "I will."
He poked her shoulder. "Ellie? Ellie?"
"What? Oh, I'm sorry." Her face colored, even though she knew he couldn't possibly read her thoughts. "Just woolgathering."
"Darling, you were practically hugging a sheep."
She swallowed and tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. "I was merely thinking about my investment strategy. What do you think of coffee?"
"I like mine with milk."
"As an investment," she practically snapped.
"My goodness, we've suddenly grown testy."
He'd be testy, too, she thought, if he'd just realized that he was on a one-way path to a broken heart. She was in love with a man who saw nothing wrong with infidelity. He had made his views on marriage painfully clear.
Oh, Ellie knew he'd remain faithful for the time being. He was far too intrigued by her and by the newness of their marriage to seek out other women. But eventually he'd grow bored, and when he did, she'd be left at home with a broken heart.
Damn the man. If he had to have a fatal flaw, why couldn't he have chewed his fingernails, or gambled, or even been short, fat, and hideously ugly? Why did he have to be perfect in every way except for his appalling lack of respect for the sanctity of marriage?
Ellie thought she might cry.
And the worst part of it was that she knew she'd never be able to pay him back in kind. Ellie couldn't be unfaithful if she tried. Perhaps it was due to her strict upbringing by a man of God, but there was no way she could ever break a vow as solemn as that of marriage. It just wasn't in her.
"You look terribly somber all of a sudden," Charles said, touching her face. "My God! You've tears in your eyes. Ellie, what is wrong? Is it your hands?"
Ellie nodded. It seemed the easiest tiling to do under the circumstances.
"Let me pour you more laudanum. And I'll brook no arguments that you just had some. Another quarter dose isn't going to render you unconscious."
She drank the liquid, thinking she wouldn't mind being rendered unconscious just then. "Thank you," she said, once he'd wiped her mouth for her. He was looking at her with such concern, and it made her heart positively ache, and ...
And that was when it came to her. They said reformed rakes made the best husbands, didn't they? Why the devil couldn't she reform him? She'd never backed down from a challenge before. Feeling suddenly inspired and perhaps a little bit dizzy from having doubled her current dose of laudanum, she turned to him and asked, "And when do I learn the mysterious number seven?"
He looked at her with concern in his eyes. "I'm not sure you're up to it."
"Nonsense." She waggled her head from side to side and gave him a jaunty smile. "I'm up for anything."
Now he was puzzled. He blinked a few times, picked up the bottle of laudanum, and regarded it curiously. "I thought this was supposed to make one sleepy."
"I don't know about sleepy," she countered, "but I certainly feel better."
He looked at her, looked back at the bottle, and sniffed it cautiously. "Perhaps I ought to have a nip."