“I will journey with you to London, if I must. As my wife, you could well risk your life in childbed. I can face the horrors of the capital to show my face at court.” That was hope speaking, uncharacteristic optimism.

“I detest London. I like you.”

I more than like you. “The sentiment is assuredly mutual in both regards, and yet, you hesitate to give me your answer.”

“I want to sketch you.” She swished through the door, across the terrace, and down the steps.

Robert followed, bemused. Constance hadn’t said no to his proposal, but she certainly hadn’t said yes. Perhaps this was a taste of married life, learning to read a sort of uxorial code.

“Will the bench do, my lady?”

“The bench will do nicely.” Constance fished a sketch pad from her reticule, stuck one pencil behind her ear, brandished another—brandished, that was the word for it—then took the far end of the bench. “Have a seat and think ducal thoughts.”

Robert had no sooner done as she’d bid him—thinking of his prospective duchess was very ducal—when Monty popped up onto the bench.

“Shameless beggar.”

Constance fell silent as Monty circled on Robert’s lap, purred, demanded to be scratched, and otherwise spoiled the moment.

She took up her pencil and made a few passes at the page. “I told Quinn that you would ask him about paying me your addresses. He was reasonable, considering he was surprised. Cat, settle or I will sketch you with horns.”

The cat walked across Robert’s lap and dug its claws into his thigh.

“Shall you have a long courtship with all the trimmings, Constance? I’m already steeling myself for the ordeal of divine services. I could flirt with you in the churchyard, share a hymnal, the usual silliness.” Though how much better if he could waltz with her at an engagement ball or even at a local assembly? How much more impressive if he could take her out driving in a fancy gig?

Maybe someday.

“I understand why a shorter engagement makes sense,” she said, “and I don’t need any silliness. What ails that cat?”

“He’s lonely, I suppose.” Or he sensed a seizure in the offing. Nothing to be done about it if that was the case. Robert picked up the cat and cradled him against his shoulder, which seemed to be what the dratted pest wanted.

“Quinn will arrange the settlements so that my portion is safe from any meddling.” Constance wrinkled her nose and squinted at her sketch.

“Prudent on your brother’s part. He should do likewise regarding Lady Althea’s funds as well. If Nathaniel should pre-decease me, God forbid, her finances and the ducal estate should be as separate as possible.” The bench was hard, the cat was hairy, and this was not how Robert had envisioned this discussion going.

“Quinn said you’d understand about that part.”

“Is there another part?”