“Not to mention the fact that your aunt can likely hear everything we say and do.” He tugged absently at the ribbon trim on the sleeve of her nightgown. “I want to do this right, Laura. You deserve that much from me.”

He was so solemn. So seemingly sincere. How could she not believe him? “I suppose I shall have to defer to your greater experience.”

“A wise idea.” His hand slid to hers. Their fingers briefly twined together. “I’m going to sleep in Teddy’s old room tonight. And then—”

“Yes?” She looked at him in expectation.

“And then, if you can make yourself ready in so short a time, tomorrow we’ll depart for Dover.”

Chapter 20

Paris, France

September, 1860

Alex shepherded Laura into his suite of rooms at the Hôtel des Rois. The heavy damask curtains were open, revealing an enviable prospect of the Champs-Élysées. The fashionable Paris avenue was ablaze with gaslight. It was the same view that had attracted him so many years ago.

It attracted Laura as well.

She walked to the window as she stripped off her gloves and bonnet. He heard her catch her breath. “Good heavens.”

“Do you like it?”

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

He regarded her from across the room. She’d spent most of the rail journey from Surrey poring over the documents Weatherwax had sent to them. At Dover, however, Alex had taken charge of the papers and directed her attention to more pressing concerns. The steamer ship, and the sea, and the exciting adventure before them.

Her wide-eyed wonder as they’d crossed the channel and traveled by rail from Calais had made the sights and sounds of France new to him again. He felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. The beauty of the countryside, the dazzling lights of Paris. And most beautiful of all, his new bride. A lady he admired. That he adored beyond reason.

A lady he hadn’t even properly kissed yet.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“A few years, off and on.” He dropped his hat and gloves on a marble-topped table near the door. “Though I wouldn’t call it living.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“It isn’t a home,” he said. “It’s simply a place I come to rest when I grow weary of traveling.”

“You must feel some affinity for it. Why else would you keep coming back?”

“Convenience.”

Her lips tilted in a smile. He recognized the expression on her face. She didn’t believe him. Not entirely.

Alex couldn’t blame her.

He wandered past the tufted velvet sofa to the glass oil lamp at its side. As he lit the wick, he heard Laura moving about the room behind him. The skirts of her green silk traveling dress rustled over her starched petticoats, the fragrance of her perfume a faint but stirring floral note in the stale air.