Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(41)
“Edward.” Father narrows his eyes. “You have been drowning yourself in work as of late. Use this opportunity to take some time off.”
“My most sincere apologies, but I fear that I cannot comply. Besides, you are well aware that the flower show is usually crowded; it would hardly be a relaxing place to visit. I would far prefer a stroll in the gardens.”
At that moment, a servant enters and hands me a letter from Henry. I rip it open, hoping it contains good news. Unfortunately, it does not contain what I was hoping for.
“Who is it from?” Father asks.
“Henry.” I fold the letter and tuck it in my pocket.
“Wasn’t it only a while ago that you met him in Moryn?”
“I wish to be better informed of his life there,” I say, hoping that Father will not realize anything suspicious in it. “I am sorry to say his report is not favorable. Due to the emperor’s attempt to cut costs, the funding at his university has been reduced by fifty percent.”
“Hmm.” Father frowns. “A foolhardy move, I would say. Medical research may be costly, but many lives could be saved by one innovation.”
I remember how proud Henry was when one of his professors discovered the cure for cholera. “Augustin has spent an exceedingly high sum on his wedding. He built a new palace for his wife as a wedding present.”
“Ah.” Mother turns to Father, a questioning look in her gaze. “Did not the Moryn finance minister send a loan request a while ago?”
“Well do I remember that.” Father drains his mug of coffee. “It was a difficult request. Our own budgets have been stretched, especially after more Acts have been passed, and I do not believe the Moryn emperor is able to repay the loan soon. I doubt his new wife is capable of astute financial management either.”
We discuss the Moryn financial crisis for a while, until I finish the last croissant on my plate. Eager to see Kat, I set my napkin on the table and stand up.
“Katriona.”
Her eyes are glazed; she had not taken the slightest interest in our conversation about Moryn. On my second attempt to engage her attention, she blinks. “Oh! Please forgive me—I...I was thinking. Of some other things.”
I glance at Father and raise an eyebrow. I am not the only inattentive one at breakfast. “Please convey my deepest apologies to the organizer of the flower show. If he so desires and you are inclined, feel free to take my place as the ribbon-cutter.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “But I cannot go alone.”
“Then I suggest you find something else to occupy your time. Pardon me, but I must be off.” I nod at Father and Mother and take my leave, doing my best to conceal my eagerness. It has been several days since I had seen Kat; already, I need her presence to replenish my soul.
* * *
I find her walking briskly in the direction of the omnibus stop, her luxuriant hair concealed in a bonnet. With the ring sparkling on her finger, no one will take her for an unattached woman. Good. While Kat is incredulous that I would take such precautions, I know circumstances are different with commoners. Young aristocrats have the rank and wealth to pick and choose, but most other men would not be immune to a pretty, spirited maid like Kat.
Bertram stops the horses even before I needed to alert him. I open the carriage door and call her name. At the sound of my voice, she turns and her face glows. Really, whoever thought she was plain needs to have his eyesight checked.
“Get in.”
She hesitates. “But I’m not supposed to…” I step out, lift her up by the armpits, and deposit her in the carriage. Then I slam the door and latch it.
“Worry not,” I say. “We are going downtown. You’ll waste more time taking the omnibus. And even if you are recognized, there is no cause to worry, as you will be taken for the princess.”
She gives me a half-exasperated look. “You. Are. A. Barbarian.”
It is the first time that someone called me barbaric. Kat never fails to amuse me. I place my hands on both sides of her head, trapping her in the corner of the seat. The curtains are fully drawn; the carriage walls are thick. A perfect camouflage for what I have in mind. “You call hauling you into the carriage barbaric? That was only the tip of the iceberg.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Edward, you’re not going to…”
I kiss her, pressing my body into hers, running my hands over places that would have made her gasp, had not my mouth covered hers completely. She responds willingly; she winds her arms around me and tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. How I wish I could remove the layers of clothing she’s wearing; it has been months since we shared a bed, and my craving for her has escalated.
But the risk is too great. Pulling away with great reluctance, I help her into a sitting position and retrieve her scarf, concealing any trace of desire that marked her skin. There’s a sparkle remaining in her eyes, her lips moist and pink, and a contented smile that tells me she enjoyed our passionate encounter. She looks so adorable and tempting that I cannot help stealing another kiss before forcing myself settle in my seat. I thank the stars she did not have her memories erased this time.
* * *
We arrive at The Bookworm, hand in hand. Wellesley is arranging a few books in front of the store. He looks up; surprise flits in his eyes, but then he smiles.