What would she say if she knew her censorious face only aroused him? She’d be appalled, surely. But then Jasper recalled the seductive woman from the night before, the one who’d whispered a bold challenge with unflinching eyes, and he wondered. Which was his true wife? The prim lady of the day or the adventuress of the night?
But she waited for his reply. He grinned. “I can think of nothing more enjoyable than a morning of shopping.”
“I can’t think of any other man who would say the same.”
“Then you’re K">“y o lucky to be married to me, are you not?”
She didn’t answer that but merely poured herself another cup of chocolate.
He broke open a bun and buttered a piece. “It was a delight to see you at the ball last night.”
She stiffened almost imperceptibly. Was he not supposed to mention her nocturnal actions?
“I had not met your friend Matthew Horn until yesterday,” she said. “Are you close?”
Ah, then this was how it would be played. She would try to ignore her own nightly mechanisms. Interesting.
“I knew Horn when I was in the army,” he said. “He was a good friend back then. We’ve grown apart since.”
“You never speak of your time in the army.”
He shrugged. “It was six years ago.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How long were you commissioned?”
“Seven years.”
“And you held the rank of captain?”
“Indeed.”
“You saw action.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t know if he should bother to answer. Action. Such a small word for the blood and sweat and screaming. The thundering of the cannons, the smoke and ashes, the corpses littering the field afterward. Action. Oh, yes, he’d seen action.
He sipped his tea to wash the taste of acid from his mouth. “I was at Quebec when we took the city. A tale I hope to someday tell our grandchildren.”
She looked away. “But that’s not where Lord St. Aubyn died.”
“No.” He smiled grimly. “Think you this is a pleasant conversation for the breakfast table?”
She didn’t back down from him. “Should not a wife know about her husband?”
“My time in the army is not everything I am.”
“No, but I think it is a fair part of you.”
And what could he say to that? She was right. Somehow she knew, though he didn’t think he’d given any sign. She knew he was changed, forever scarred and diminished, by what had happened in the north woods of America. Did he wear it like a badge of the devil? Could she see what he was? Did she know somehow of his deepest shame?
No, she must not. If she knew, her face would hold contempt. He looked down as he broke apart the rest of his bun.
“Perhaps you no longer want to accompany me this morning?” his wife asked softly.
He looked up at that. Sly creature. “I don’t scare that easily.”
Her eyes widened a bit. Perhaps his smile had shown too much teeth. Perhaps she’d seen Kps ighthe thing that lurked beneath. But she was brave, his wife.
“Then tell me,” she said, “about the army.”