He sat. She knelt next to him, looking up. “Is your head better?”
“Much,” he said, unable to look away from her eyes. Their brown depths glinted bright in the flames’ light.
“Why are you here?” She sat in another chair and lifted her feet onto an ottoman nestled between the two chairs. The sight of her stocking-clad feet reminded him of his own. He lifted his feet onto the ottoman too, so they rested side by side, companionable, intimate.
Why was he here? His mind blanked, then he said, “I like coffee and tea just the same. Tea in the warm months, coffee in the cold. Coffee in the mornings, tea all other hours.”
She grinned. “Do you? Just like me. How interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting. And I must exercise. I walk almost everywhere I go in London. Ride hard when in the country. It helps calm me, controls my emotions.”
“Just so. I think most clearly when exhausting my body.”
He nodded. “I give to several charities and started one of my own.”
“Oh, George! How marvelous. What for?”
“Wounded soldiers and their families.” He swallowed hard. “There is much pain for them. In more ways than one. I do what I can to lessen it, so they do not turn to more nefarious means of pain relief.”
“I had not thought of such a problem before, but it’s very worthy.” Her brows pulled together, and she rubbed the toes of one foot against the ankle of the other, relieving some itch, no doubt.
He had an itch he could not relieve. “I can perform mathematics, equations and the like, but it is not my favorite endeavor. I prefer to leave it to those better at it than me. And…”
“And?”
What was she thinking? She’d said hardly a word.
He swallowed to wet his mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. “And I would like several children. Not a horde, you understand, but… many.”
Why had he said all that? What did he hope to accomplish? No matter his answers or his reaction to them, nothing could happen between them.
George dragged his feet back to the floor and stood. “I must return. I’m glad to see you are well.”
“Oh, do sit. I find all your answers perfectly sensible. You are very thorough, George, to offer them.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “We are very much alike. Will you keep my company for a while? I was glad to keep to myself this evening, but I would enjoy some companionable silence. And you offer that perfectly.”
Who was he to deny her? He sat, and she glowed up at him, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“Cold?” he asked, shooting to his feet.
She yawned. “Always in the winter months.”
He stood and nudged his good shoulder against the back of her chair, pushing her closer to the blaze.
She twisted and grinned up at him. “Thank you.”
He sat again, determined to stay seated this time.
Jane did not stay in her seat, however. She jumped up and dashed across the room, returning as quickly. She plopped a book in his lap. “You’ll need this.”
He picked it up and read the spine. “Sir Philip Sidney?”
“Is it? Lillian left it here one day. I didn’t even bother to look.”
He opened the book and dove into the words. Some rose around him, familiar waters he could tread with ease. Others led to alien shores, tossing him about with their difficulty.
“You’re frowning,” Jane said.
“I’m not as familiar with Sidney as I am with, say, John Donne.”
