“Mmm. I did see the roses. Of course, now that I know you were merely using the kitchen entrance . . .”

“Not tonight.”

“No, not tonight,” George agreed. Oh, how she loved him. His green, ever-watchful eyes. His words, so carefully chosen. “But, even so, I’m afraid it has shattered some of my dreams.”

Harry’s lips twitched. His mouth sometimes gave him away.

“I found the eel tonight.” She nodded at her dressing table.

He didn’t follow her gaze. Instead, he continued to watch her. “I have one more.” He held out his fist and opened his fingers.

A leopard lay on his palm. “Why is it caged?”

George took it from him and looked closely. The workmanship was incredibly cunning. The cage was all of one piece but separate from the leopard within. He would’ve had to whittle the animal inside the cage. The leopard in turn wore a miniscule chain about its neck, each link carefully delineated. A tiny, tiny crown hung from the chain.

“It’s marvelous,” she said, “but why did you carve the leopard in a cage?”

He shrugged. “It’s enchanted, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but—”

“I thought you’d ask me why I’m here.” He paced to the dresser.

She’d have to tell him soon, just not yet. Not while he seemed on the verge of flight. George set the caged leopard on her knees. “No. I’m just glad you’re with me.” She poked a finger through the bars and gently moved the leopard’s necklace. “I’ll always be happy when you come to me.”

“Will you?” Harry was looking down at the carved animals.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he murmured noncommittally. “Sometimes I’ve asked that question of myself: Why I keep coming back when I’ve already said good-bye.”

“And do you have an answer for yourself?” George held her breath, hoping.

“No. Except that I can’t seem to stay away.”

“Maybe that’s your answer, then.”

“No. It’s too simple.” He turned to look at her. “A man should be able to lead his life, make his decisions, in a more reasoned way. I said I would leave you, and so I should have.”

“Really?” She set the leopard on the little table beside her bed and propped her chin on her knees. “But then what are emotions for? The good Lord gave them to men just as much as he gave intellectual thought. Surely He meant us to use our feelings as well?”

He frowned. “Emotions shouldn’t hold sway over reasoned thought.”

“Why not?” George asked softly. “If the Lord gave us both, then surely your emotion—your love of me—is just as important as what you think about our match. Perhaps it’s more important.”

“Is it for you?” Harry began to walk back to the bed.