In that same moment, Caroline felt sure that he was about to kiss her. “I… cannot tell you that,” she had murmured, willing him to graze his lips against hers. After all, there was no better way to tell if a couple were mere companions or could be so much more.
“Shall I tell you mine?” he had whispered, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, his fingertips making her shiver in the best kind of way as they had lightly brushed her cheek in the act.
“If you do, it will not come true,” she had said, barely able to string the words together in a coherent sentence through the heat that burned in his eyes.
The flames in his gaze had sizzled to nothing, and he had withdrawn, flashing her a cooler sort of smile. “Then, it is bestthat I keep it to myself.” He had stood and bowed his head. “I have something I must do in my study. I will see you at dinner.”
With that, he had gone, leaving her wondering if she had just dreamed that stirring moment. Even now, remembering it, it did not seem real, but more like something that Anna would have read aloud from one of her favorite novels. Something Matilda and Phoebe would have rolled their eyes at, while Olivia and Leah would have exchanged a contented look, as adoring of romance as their Matchmaker friend.
“Caroline?” Max’s voice pulled her out of the daydream of him.
She blinked up at her husband. “Did you say something?”
“Are you quite well?” His eyes were soft with concern. “You seemed to journey somewhere for a while there.”
Lila nodded enthusiastically. “She does that often, Your Grace.”
“Is it some affliction?” Max stepped further into the room, coming to sit at Caroline’s side. Without warning, he lifted his hand and pressed it against his wife’s brow. “You do not feel feverish, but there is a redness in your cheeks. Shall I send for the physician? You might have caught a sickness from our afternoon walks, seeing as it has been bitterly cold this past week. Icertainlymust order warmer cloaks for you.”
Caroline could not answer for a moment, the touch of his hand against her forehead and the worry in his expression stealing away her ability to speak.
“Something with fur trim?” he prompted. “Fur lining will be a necessity. It is always miserably cold in London. Unless you would prefer for us not to go to the Capital just yet? It would be no trouble for us to linger a week or so longer, so you can be tended to with… soups and such.”
Being tended to byhimsounded rather pleasant. Alotmore pleasant than having to endure winter in London, although she liked thinking about Christmastide at his townhouse, or Daniel’s, or at the London home of one of her friends. It would be different from the usual celebrations at Westyork, but she had begun to embrace the changes.
“We should not delay,” she said firmly, as cozy firelight and festive hymns swirled around in her mind, encouraging her. The prospect of the first snowfall of the year, too, watched from the comfort of a smaller residence where the cold would not be able to conquer the hallways and rooms with quite so much vigor.
If the first snow falls before December the Twelfth, then Max will kiss me before the new year begins.
“We should leave as planned,” she added, putting on a shy smile, unused to Max being so close. “I am perfectly well. My mind wanders sometimes, that is all. It is not an affliction—at least, I do not think it is.”
If the first snow fallsafterDecember the Twelfth, I will accept that we shall never be anything more than distant,she added, feeling fidgety at the prospect of starting over again.
Max seemed relieved by her words, though whether that pertained to his plans going ahead or her not being unwell, she did not know.
“Very well,” he said softly, leaning in as if he meant to kiss her brow. He drew back at the last second, wearing an expression of surprise that faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I shall leave you to your tireless task of choosing what to take.”
He was up and out of the room in seconds as if he could not get away fast enough. And Caroline was left, once again, not knowing what manner of husband she had—one who wanted more, or one who could not wait to send her to her own residence, far from his side.
By late afternoon the following day, the carriage and its respectable quantity of earthly belongings trundled through the crowded streets of London.
Caroline pressed her forehead to the pane of the carriage window, admiring every bit of architecture her eyes could take in at once. From the cramped terraces to the squat coach houses to the lopsided public houses to the extraordinary sandstone of the museum to the astonishingly grand churches, she absorbed it allwith wonder, marveling at how even the poorest of residences could have so much character.
Her mouth fell open and stayed there as the carriage went past the majesty of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She always forgot how enormous the building was, and how utterly regal, with its imposing pillared dome, layered spires, towering white walls, and the golden statues that glinted in the low autumn sun.
“Three-hundred-and-sixty-five feet,” she murmured in awe.
“Pardon?” Max said from the opposite squabs.
She tapped the glass. “St. Paul’s. That is how tall it is. Incredible, is it not?” She sighed. “I cannot imagine being given a challenge such as that. It must have been terrifying, to design something so vast, not knowing if people would like it.”
“I would say the architect did a fine job,” Max said, coming to Caroline’s side of the squabs.
Over the top of her head, leaning in until his back was practically flush with hers, he followed her line of sight to the magnificent cathedral. But Caroline could not concentrate on what she had been going to say about the style of the building or the casual genius of the man who had designed it, her heart quickening its beat at the closeness of Max.
“Sir Christopher Wren, if I am not mistaken,” he prompted, his head now dipping over her shoulder, leaving them cheek to cheek.
I did not account for this. I made no bet with fate about this. What doesthismean?
