“What did you do to your hair? I don’t like it asmuch.”His brow knitted. “How do you like it?”“I prefer the curls.”He looked as if she’d told him she preferred him with three eyes. “You used to make fun of them. You told me that if Bo Peep had a child with one of her sheep it would have hair like mine.”She burst out laughing—and gasped at the pain that shot through her scalp. “You are not making it up, are you? Did I really say that?”“Sometimes you called me Goldilocks.”She had to remind herself not to laugh again. “And you married me? I sound like a very odious sort of girl.”“I was a very odious sort of boy, so you might say we were evenly matched.”She didn’t know enough to comment upon that, but when he was near, she was… happier.”

“Her hand reached up and took a strand of his hair between her fingers. “Simple as that.”She gently pulled on that curl and let it go. “It’s so springy.”They’d barely grazed at the truth, but I she was satisfied—and distracted. By his hair, of all things.“I feel like a sheep that has been overlooked during spring shearing,” he murmured.“Yes, adorably fluffy.”Another time he might have protested the use of that adjective. But now he was all too relieved. “Would you like me to pull my chair closer, so you may fondle my hair with greater ease?” he asked.She beamed at him. “Why, yes, I’d like exactly that.”

“Hastings sat down and braced his arm along the back of the chaise, quite effectively letting it be known he did not want anyone else to join them. “You look frustrated, Miss Fitzhugh.” He lowered his voice. “Has your bed been empty of late?” He knew very well she’d been watched more closely than prices on the stock exchange. She couldn’t smuggle a hamster into her bed, let alone a man. “You look anemic, Hastings,” she said. “Have you been leaving the belles of England breathlessly unsatisfied again?” He grinned. “Ah, so you know what it is like to be breathlessly unsatisfied. I expected as little from Andrew Martin.” Her tone was pointed. “As little as you expect from yourself, no doubt.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Miss Fitzhugh, you disparage me so, when I’ve only ever sung your praises.” “Well, we all do what we must,” she said with sweet venom. He didn’t reply—not in words, at least.”

“I despaired for a while during the rail journey-how did one deal with such ingrainedcowardice? Then I realized that there is no such thing as courage in the absence of cowardice.Courage is also a choice: It’s what happens when one refuses to give in to fear.”She rested her head against the bedpost and gazed at him. “Your trust gives me courage.”He understood her perfectly. “And your courage gives me faith.”She smiled a little. “Do you trust me?”“Yes,” he answered without any hesitation.“Then trust me when I say that we will be all right.”He trusted her. And he knew then that they would be all right, the two of them. Together.”

“That's right. Carrington didn't want to marry the likes of me. He had to be dragged kicking and screamingto the negotiation table.”“Did you enjoy the dragging?” He glanced down at her.“Yes, I rather did,” she confessed. “It was amusing threatening to strip his house bare to the last plank on the floor and the last spoon in the kitchen.”“My parents are convinced of your grief.” She heard the smile in his voice. “They said tears streameddown your face at his funeral.”“For nearly three years of hard work down the drain, I cried like a bereaved mother.”

“Even they would think you a monster were you toorchestrate a divorce right after my confinement.”“How long do you recommend I wait, then?”“A long time. I know what happens when a divorce is granted:The woman never gets anything. And I will not be parted from my child.”“So you will contest the divorce?”“To my last penny. And then I’ll borrow from Fitz and Millie.”“So we’ll be married ’til the end of time?”“The sooner you accept it, the sooner we are all better off.”His ancestors would have appreciated her hauteur: a fit wife for a de Montfort. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have enough rest.”He gazed at her retreating back. Foolish woman, did she not realize that he’d already accepted it from the moment he’d said “I do”?”

“When will you ask for your post back?” he whispered in her ear. “I miss the smell ofindustrial-strength solvents.”She laughed softly. “Soon. And when will you have papers read at the mathematical societyagain? I rather like having my husband called a genius for reasons that are not clear to me.”My husband. The words rolled off her tongue, easy and beautiful. He kissed her fervently.“Soon. My brilliance quite overflowed on the way home. I have four notebooks to show forit.”“Good. We don’t want people to think I love you for your looks alone.”“In that case we should also put you in some rather revealing gowns once in a while, so thatpeople don’t think I married you for your accomplishments alone.”