Page 17 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“Then, let’s have an open conversation about them.” She huffed again. Communication. Why must it be so difficult?
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” He rested his hands and the reins in his lap.
“No, you’re skirting about the issue.”
“Perhaps.” His shrug was a half admission.
“What doyouwant?” She studied his face, hoping he would reveal himself. More than anything, she wanted to know what he desired.
His eyes flitted to hers and then away. She thought he would refuse to answer, but after a few minutes with only the clop of horse hooves to be heard, he at last cleared his throat. “I want a wife, someday. I want to start a family when I have no other pressing things to distract me from my wife and our children. I wish to cherish her. I would like to devote my whole heart and energies to the life we would create together. I want shared breakfast in the morning, respites for lunch, and a long relaxing evening, every day. I want laughter and arguments and kisses and work. I want us to work together doing something meaningful.”
Rhi was filled with a sudden regret that she was not the woman who would have such a family with him. “That sounds... nice.”
“And I wish to choose who she will be,” he added.
“Then, we are in agreement yet again.” She grinned, unable to resist another tease. “Wemight even be a good choice for each other.” She had to say it, had to see his expression.
He strained against his cravat. “But we have no way of knowing.”
“We could be a spectacular match.” She tried not to be personally affected by the shock that immediately registered on his face. She eyed him, making a game of his discomfort. “Perhaps if left to our own devices, we would fall in love and choose one another.”
His face burned with a color she found most fascinating. He shifted in his saddle twice before responding. “We do already know two things.I’mnot ready for such a decision, andyouare indeed in immediate need of security, a home, marriage.” His eyes filled with caring. “Forgive the presumption.”
But would he leave her before she could feel secure? Dump her off with his friends in London and refuse to do his duty by her if she failed to find an alternative match?
Prince Marc must’ve seen her concerned expression and sought to reassure her. “If no one suits, then we will travel to Oldenburg.”
“Do I have your word?”
He stiffened. “Did I not just give it?”
“I suppose, but I still don’t really know you at all.”
“You have my word.”
And with that, when the road split, they headed away from Norfolk and on to London.
Chapter Six
Some of the tightness thathad not left Marc’s chest since he read the addendum seemed to loosen now that he and Miss Davies had an understanding of sorts. If only she would be the uncomplicated sort, the type of woman who knew what she wanted and chose a husband wisely and quickly.
She sat straighter. “How is it that you have friends in London? Do you come to England often?”
“We do. I was just here eight months past with my brother Prince Hayes. He’s married now. The Duchess of Sumter is his wife’s closest friend.”
“Doyouhave any connections in London of a... particular nature?” Her expression was guarded.
“Not at all.” Had he ever thought of marrying while in London? Certainly not. But he supposed it was a fair question. “And you? Any romantic ties?”
She laughed. “Not remotely.”
They rode on, saying nothing more for a time, and then she started humming, her deep, rich tones washing over him in great waves of pleasure. Her singing voice would be beautiful, with the beginning sounds thus. And then, just as he hoped, she broke forth in song, the clear sound filling the air around them. He was attuned to every note, hoping she wouldn’t stop anytime soon.
And she didn’t. Their next miles were made light and smooth by the sounds of her songs, all Welsh folk tunes, he guessed. Some were melancholy, some animated, but all were beautiful from the creamy throat of his traveling partner. And, for just a few moments, Marc began to see her in a different light. He’d told himself he was satisfied pawning her off onto just about any well-bred man, but he hadn’t slept well on that idea. He knew he’d be answering to his father and his mother. And, most importantly, to his own conscience.
She switched to a familiar song.
“I know this one!” It was an old folk tune from his childhood, one of his favorites as a boy, and he couldn’t help but join in. “And while I’m dancing, you’re dancing. And while I’m feasting, you’re feasting.” He raised his hands in the air to dance on his horse.
