“Yes, yes, your wife. Why don’t you just confess your love to the woman already? It’s not as though she will chase you away with a pitchfork.”
Don’t be so sure about that.“She’s not ready.”
Calstone crossed one leg over the other and tapped the table. “She’s not ready or you are not ready?”
“Both, I suppose.”
His friend leaned forward in his chair. “Let me ask you, whenwillyou be ready?”
Will considered the question. “When she no longer suspects my every step to be somehow a move against her.” Though, in truth, he may have made some progress on that front today, in spite of himself.
“Has the dowry been transferred?”
Will nodded. “Into an account under her name.”
“Have you informedherof that?”
“No.”
“Why ever not?”
Will arched a brow. “By law, even though her name is on the account, it’s still mine.”
“Dear Christ, man. Have you truly lost your intelligence since you met that girl? It’s still a gesture of intention.”
Will paused. Then shook his head. “It’s a miniscule one.”
“So what if it is? She needs to understand your intentions, doesn’t she? Why don’t you help her out a bit? I’m sure a part of her believes you married for her dowry—it’s a large one, afterall. So convince her you have no need of it and no intention of touching it.”
“She would just suspect it a scheme of some sort.”
“Perhaps at first. But she won’t think that forever. What else have you been doing?”
“Sending her flowers.”
“Ah,”’ his friend said impressed. “Good for you. What else?”
“Notes with the flowers.”
Calstone pressed a hand over his heart. “Even a note? You have come far, old chap. What do you say in the notes? Are they snippets of poetry? You wouldn’t write your own, so from which poet did you borrow?”
“No poetry.”
Calstone’s face fell. “No poetry? Please don’t tell me you just wrote ‘Sincerely Yours, Leeds.’”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
Calstone gave him a weary look.
“I wrote more than that, all right. She looks lovely, and that sort of thing.” The first note had been the hardest. He hadn’t known what to write. So he just decided to write what came to mind. Little messages from his heart.
“Well, I suppose that’s already more than one can usually ask from you. I’m sure you are melting your wife’s heart as we speak.”
“I can’t tell if you are being sarcastic or not.”
“Upon my honor,” Calstone’s hand returned to his chest, “I am not.”
Will scoffed. “Either way, it’s too soon to tell.” But she had been blushing a bit more often recently.
