He hadn’t even wanted to go tonight: it had been three full days that he’d hardly ventured out the door of his own home. Nominally, the weather had kept him inside; it had been blowing freezing sleet since Tuesday. But he had to admit: had he still lived at the Institute, he would have dragged himself out of doors, grumpy as a wet cat, to join his friends in the damp rooms above the Devil.

But staying at home with Daisy—he’d told her marriage would be a lark, and meant it, but he was enjoying it more than he’d imagined he would. He found he looked forward to seeing her at breakfast so as to tell her what he’d thought about during the night, and at night to hear what she’d thought about since breakfast. They saw their friends during the day, but he loved their evenings alone together, when they matched their wits over games, made and lost bets, and talked about anything and everything.

He recalled, when he was a boy and the whole family had gathered in the drawing room, seeing an expression on his father’s face that James always thought of as the Quiet Look. Will’s blue gaze would travel over his wife—tracing every line of her as if he were memorizing her all over again—and then his children, and a look of happiness that was sharp and gentle at the same time would come over his face.

James knew now, though, what his father had been thinking when he got the Quiet Look. It was the same thought he had in the study at night, watching the light of the fire pass through Cordelia’s unbound red hair, listening to her laugh, seeing the graceful movements of her hands in the warm lamplight. How do I live in this moment forever, and not let it go?

Would it be like that with Grace, when they were married? James wondered. He had never felt comfortable around Grace as he did around Cordelia. Perhaps that was the difference between love and friendship. Friendship was more easy, more relaxed.

Though, whispered a treacherous voice in the back of his mind, it was not relaxation he was feeling when he let his gaze roam over Daisy as she sat before the fire. He noticed everything about her as if he had been given a divine mathematical assignment intended to total up her charms: the shape of her mouth, the smooth skin of her throat and forearms, the curve of her neck, the soft swell of her breasts under her nightgown. She had been stunning tonight; he had caught quite a few men staring at her, at her curves poured into that green dress, at the graceful tilt of her head when she danced, at his gold pendant glimmering against her skin.…