plans for our honeymoon?”
“Reexamine our plans? In what sense?”
“I know we had decided to take a tour of your estates. But I was wondering if we might take a holiday somewhere instead?”
“A holiday?”
“Yes. Somewhere cozy and intimate.” She moved a bit closer and looked up at him. “It will be just the two of us, you know.”
“Ah, I am beginning to understand the interest in Baedeker.” He smiled a little. “Do you have a particular place in mind?”
Images ran through her head at once, images of red tile rooftops and cobblestone streets, of a quaint pensione with a view of the Arno. She could see herself and Aidan sipping espresso in the Piazza del Campo, or walking through the churches and museums, or picnicking in the Tuscan countryside where he would read and she would paint. So captivating were these images, she could almost hear the sonorous notes of a Puccini aria playing in her head as if on a gramophone.
“Yes,” she breathed with a hint of reverence. “I want to go to Florence.”
“Florence?” He gave a slight laugh, clearly surprised. “When you said a holiday, I was thinking the Isle of Wight, or possibly Calais. We only have two weeks set aside, remember, and Florence is so far away. It just isn’t possible.”
Those words were like the sound of the gramophone needle slicing across the disk of her imagination, and the lilting music of Puccini ended in a screeching dose of reality.
She fought it. “I know it’s a long way. But we could extend our honeymoon a bit longer, couldn’t we? It would be wonderful to see the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio and Michelangelo’s David , wouldn’t it?”
“Delightful, I agree. But as for extending our honeymoon, we simply can’t, my dear. What of Parliament? Our wedding is October 2. The House of Lords sits on October 16, and it’s a special session that day, very important. I must be there for the vote.”
With those words, Beatrix felt images of Florence fading away into oblivion. “I’d forgotten about Parliament,” she admitted, trying to hide her disappointment.
“For us to tour Florence for our honeymoon, I would have to abandon my Parliamentary obligations.”
“I know.”
“We discussed a honeymoon abroad, if you remember, and we decided time prohibited it. We arranged to tour my estates instead so that you would have the opportunity to see them all, something we have not yet done.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, for she did not want him to see the disappointment in her face if he happened to glance at her. “I remember.”
“And the tenants would be so let down if they did not have the opportunity to meet you straightaway. Why, I believe the children at Trathen Leagh are even planning some sort of welcoming song to greet their new duchess. We have a duty to our people, my dear. We cannot let them down.”
“I know.”
“If it means anything to you, I wish I could take you to Florence.” He put his gloved hand over hers, and it was such an uncharacteristically open display of affection, it caught her by surprise. Aidan was not that sort. He had kissed her only once, quite properly, upon her acceptance of his proposal, and he was certainly not one for holding hands. “Your happiness is important to me, my dear, and you have been unhappy in the past, I know.”
He wasn’t looking at her, but as she studied his grave, boyishly handsome profile, she felt a powerful rush of fondness and affection.
Aidan might not be the most demonstrative of men, or the most expressive, and he was, as her cousins were wont to say, a bit of a dry stick. But he had a loyal, faithful heart. She would always be able to depend upon him. He wouldn’t break promises. She could trust him to take care of her and their children no matter what might happen. He would never demand that she do crazy things like follow him into the desert on a bloody treasure hunt. He wouldn’t expect her to make impossible, irresponsible
“Reexamine our plans? In what sense?”
“I know we had decided to take a tour of your estates. But I was wondering if we might take a holiday somewhere instead?”
“A holiday?”
“Yes. Somewhere cozy and intimate.” She moved a bit closer and looked up at him. “It will be just the two of us, you know.”
“Ah, I am beginning to understand the interest in Baedeker.” He smiled a little. “Do you have a particular place in mind?”
Images ran through her head at once, images of red tile rooftops and cobblestone streets, of a quaint pensione with a view of the Arno. She could see herself and Aidan sipping espresso in the Piazza del Campo, or walking through the churches and museums, or picnicking in the Tuscan countryside where he would read and she would paint. So captivating were these images, she could almost hear the sonorous notes of a Puccini aria playing in her head as if on a gramophone.
“Yes,” she breathed with a hint of reverence. “I want to go to Florence.”
“Florence?” He gave a slight laugh, clearly surprised. “When you said a holiday, I was thinking the Isle of Wight, or possibly Calais. We only have two weeks set aside, remember, and Florence is so far away. It just isn’t possible.”
Those words were like the sound of the gramophone needle slicing across the disk of her imagination, and the lilting music of Puccini ended in a screeching dose of reality.
She fought it. “I know it’s a long way. But we could extend our honeymoon a bit longer, couldn’t we? It would be wonderful to see the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio and Michelangelo’s David , wouldn’t it?”
“Delightful, I agree. But as for extending our honeymoon, we simply can’t, my dear. What of Parliament? Our wedding is October 2. The House of Lords sits on October 16, and it’s a special session that day, very important. I must be there for the vote.”
With those words, Beatrix felt images of Florence fading away into oblivion. “I’d forgotten about Parliament,” she admitted, trying to hide her disappointment.
“For us to tour Florence for our honeymoon, I would have to abandon my Parliamentary obligations.”
“I know.”
“We discussed a honeymoon abroad, if you remember, and we decided time prohibited it. We arranged to tour my estates instead so that you would have the opportunity to see them all, something we have not yet done.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, for she did not want him to see the disappointment in her face if he happened to glance at her. “I remember.”
“And the tenants would be so let down if they did not have the opportunity to meet you straightaway. Why, I believe the children at Trathen Leagh are even planning some sort of welcoming song to greet their new duchess. We have a duty to our people, my dear. We cannot let them down.”
“I know.”
“If it means anything to you, I wish I could take you to Florence.” He put his gloved hand over hers, and it was such an uncharacteristically open display of affection, it caught her by surprise. Aidan was not that sort. He had kissed her only once, quite properly, upon her acceptance of his proposal, and he was certainly not one for holding hands. “Your happiness is important to me, my dear, and you have been unhappy in the past, I know.”
He wasn’t looking at her, but as she studied his grave, boyishly handsome profile, she felt a powerful rush of fondness and affection.
Aidan might not be the most demonstrative of men, or the most expressive, and he was, as her cousins were wont to say, a bit of a dry stick. But he had a loyal, faithful heart. She would always be able to depend upon him. He wouldn’t break promises. She could trust him to take care of her and their children no matter what might happen. He would never demand that she do crazy things like follow him into the desert on a bloody treasure hunt. He wouldn’t expect her to make impossible, irresponsible
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