Alex had occupied the time by assisting with moving Teddy’s things to a bedroom downstairs—a long overdue project that absorbed the remainder of the day.

Laura was grateful for her new husband’s consideration toward her family, but she owned to a certain sense of frustration.

What had happened with Mr. Weatherwax?

And what was Alex going to do now that there was no wealth or property to keep him here?

“It’s going to be all right,” he’d promised her.

Lord above, but she’d believed him.

It was a strange sensation to let someone else shoulder a burden. She felt both lighter in spirit, and a little queasy. How could she relinquish control over something so important? Not just her future, but Teddy’s?

She brushed out her hair and slipped into a nightgown. It was the farthest thing from bridal finery. There was no French silk or broderie lace. Only unrelieved white cotton, covering her from her neck to her toes. Its one concession to femininity was a thin—slightly frayed—white ribbon woven at the wrists, neckline, and hem.

Alex had lived abroad for decades. He must have encountered all manner of sophisticated women in seductive negligees. She felt countrified and childish by comparison. Even worse, she felt poor. Far poorer than she had this morning.

She’d told him he would have half of the perfume business, and now there was nothing left of it. No wealth. No property, save a dilapidated distillery in France.

He had no reason to stay now.

She climbed into her bed and pulled the quilted counterpane up to her chin.

Not five minutes later a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she called out.

Alex entered, shutting the door behind him. He stood there, his back against the closed door, gazing at her in the candlelight. After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “In bed already?”

Laura wished she could see his face. Not that it ever revealed much. “It’s been a long day.”

He advanced into the room. He was in his shirtsleeves, his cravat loose at his neck. “It has. And an eventful one.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how you managed to resolve things with Mr. Weatherwax.”

“There’s been no opportunity.” Alex removed his cufflinks and set them down on her dressing table with a soft clink. “We can talk now, if you like.”

Laura struggled to a sitting position amongst the pillows and blankets. The counterpane fell to her waist. She resisted the urge to pull it up again. Alex had seen her in far less than a cotton nightgown. Besides, he was her husband now. There was no reason to indulge in false modesty. “I would. If you’re equal to it.”