“No,” he replied honestly. “I am not acquainted with how newly married people act. Only with how unhappily married people act.”
“Oh dear.”
“Exactly.”
“So we are both neophytes.”
A laugh rolled from him. “I never thought to be called such a thing. But yes. This is not my particular line. And I’m not very interested in conversations with young ladies and particularly innocent young ladies such as yourself. I don’t often have that opportunity. I’m not even sure what I should speak about with you at present. I don’t wish to shock you beyond all possible belief.”
She arched a brow. “You make a great assumption that I am easily shocked.”
“Aren’t you?” he queried.
“No, I didn’t think so. I’m quite familiar with all the Roman historians, the Roman plays, and all that. They’re very rude, you know, and I quite like all the restoration comedies and plays. Everyone is terribly rude in those. They’re quite naughty.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Relations between ladies and men and all that.”
He laughed again, a delicious sound.
She frowned. “Forgive me, are you again mocking me?”
“I’ve never mocked you,” he stated unequivocally. “Not yet. And I don’t think I ever shall. You are a revelation to me, Victory.”
“Well, at least revelations are not boring,” she said.
“Nothing has been boring since you came into my life,” he replied.
It was difficult to discern if that was a compliment or a lamentation. Victoria gripped her glass, concentrating on the cut pattern as she asked, “May I ask, is this at all normal?”
“No,” he replied honestly, with another laugh.
Her father was sprawled by the bishop on the pink settee in front of the fire, the liquor having taken full effect.
This morning, he had acted most strangely, as if he regretted his decision to part with her.
It was as if he had abruptly understood he was losing a vastly superior assistant and that he was going to have to make do with the silly boys that had come along from Oxford. All well-bred, well-educated, and terribly incapable when compared to her.
It was heartening and yet horrifying at the same time. How she wished she could go back to the well-regulated things of the days that she had known.
Now, her days were full of opportunity, but she really had no idea what opportunities awaited her. Not yet. So many, she suspected, she couldn’t quite fathom them all, given the funds and freedoms her husband was handing her.
“Marriage,” she said, “is a very odd business.”
“I agree with you,” he said. “Most of it is not particularly happy, but I think ours should be.”
She agreed, given the contract he’d had made up, but still, she found herself asking, “Why is that?”
“Because we shall spend so little time together,” he stated.
She gaped at him for a long moment, then she began to laugh. She could not stop herself. “You truly have singular notions. That is a horribly cynical thing to say, but I’m not entirely certain I can disagree with that sentiment.”
“I’m glad you are not foolish,” he replied with relief. “Or that you secretly harbor notions of romance. Neither of us are making protestations of love or hopes for grand passion. Therefore, I feel optimistic for our future.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am not so foolish as to believe that a great love awaits young ladies when they wed.”
He grew quiet, then asked, “Is that why you were so determined to keep away from it?”
“No,” she exclaimed easily. Deciding more champagne was a good idea, given their conversation, she collected another glass from the passing servant in exchange for her empty one. As she took several small sips, she explained, “I was determined to keep away from it, because generally husbands do not wish ladies to do any sort of particularly interesting work. Husbands generally seem to think that ladies are for breeding, but you do not agree.”
He snatched a glass. As he drank, he coughed at her plain mention of breeding. “That’s certainly not our case.”