“Why do you have these?” she asked.
“I like the movement.” Their predictability. What moved in one direction would eventually move in the other. No questions. No surprises.
“So did Newton,” she said, simply, quietly, speaking more to herself than to him. “In fourteen days, I shall marry a man with whom I have little in common. I shall do it because it is what I am expected to do as a lady of society. I shall do it because it is what all of London is waiting for me to do. I shall do it because I don’t think there will ever be an opportunity for me to marry someone with whom I have more in common. And most importantly, I shall do it because I have agreed to, and I do not care for dishonesty.”
He watched her, wishing he could see her eyes without the shield of thick glass from her spectacles. She swallowed, a ripple of movement along the delicate column of her throat. “Why do you think you will not find someone with whom you have more in common?”
She looked up at him and said simply, “I’m odd.”
His brows rose, but he did not speak. He was not certain what one said in response to such an announcement.
She smiled at his hesitation. “You needn’t be gentlemanly about it. I’m not a fool. I’ve been odd my whole life. I should count my blessings that anyone is willing to marry me—and thank heavens that an earl wants to marry me. That he’s actually courted me.
“And, honestly, I’m quite happy with the way the future is shaping up. I shall move to Sussex and never be required to frequent Bond Street or ballrooms again. Lord Castleton has offered to give me space for my hothouse and my experiments, and he’s even asked me to help him manage the estate. I think he’s happy to have the assistance.”
Considering Castleton was a perfectly nice, perfectly unintelligent man, Cross imagined the earl was celebrating the fact that his brilliant fiancée was willing to run the family estate and save him the complications. “That sounds wonderful. Is he going to give you a pack of hounds as well?”
If she noticed the sarcasm in his words, she did not show it, and he found himself regretting the tone. “I expect so. I’m rather looking forward to it. I like dogs quite a bit.” She stopped, tilting her chin to the side, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “But I am concerned about the rest.”
He shouldn’t ask. Marriage vows were not a thing to which he’d ever given much thought. He certainly wasn’t going to start now. “The rest?”
She nodded. “I feel rather unprepared, honestly. I haven’t any idea about the activities that take place after the marriage . . . in the evening . . . in the bed of the marriage,” she added, as though he might not understand.
As though he did not have a very clear vision of this woman in her marriage bed.
“And to be honest, I find the marriage vows rather specious.”
His brows rose. “The vows?”
She nodded. “Well, the bit before the vows, to be specific.”
“I sense that specificity is of great importance to you.”
She smiled, and the office grew warmer. “You see? I knew you would make an excellent research associate.” He did not reply, and she filled the silence, reciting deliberately, “Marriage is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly.”
He blinked.
“That is from the ceremony,” she explained.
It was, without a doubt, the only time someone had quoted the Book of Common Prayer in his office. Possibly, in the entire building. Ever. “That sounds reasonable.”
She nodded. “I agree. But it goes on. Neither is it to be enterprised, nor taken in hand to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding.”
He couldn’t help himself. “That’s in the ceremony?”
“Strange, isn’t it? I mean, if I were to refer to carnal lust in conversation over, say, tea, I should be tossed out of the ton, but before God and London in St. George’s, that’s fine.” She shook her head. “No matter. You can see why I might be concerned.”
“You are overthinking it, Lady Philippa. Lord Castleton may not be the sharpest of wits, but I have no doubt he’ll find his way in the marriage bed.”
Her brows snapped together. “I do have a doubt.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t think you understand,” she said. “It is critical that I know what to expect. That I am prepared for it. Well. Don’t you see? This is all wrapped up in the single most important task I shall have as wife.”
“Which is?”
“Procreation.”
The word—scientific and unemotional—should not have called to him. It should not have conjured long limbs, and soft flesh, and wide, bespectacled eyes. But it did.
He shifted uncomfortably as she went on. “I quite like children, so I’m sure that bit will be fine. But you see, I require the understanding in question. And, since you are purported to be such an expert on the topic, I could not imagine anyone better to assist me in my research.”
“The topic of children?”
She sighed her frustration. “The topic of breeding.”
He should like to teach her everything he knew about breeding.
“Mr. Cross?”
He cleared his throat. “You don’t know me.”
She blinked. Apparently the thought had not occurred to her. “Well. I know of you. That is enough. You shall make an excellent research associate.”
“Research in what?”