"I married your cousin," Ellie continued. "It doesn't matter if you like it, it doesn't matter if he likes it, it doesn't even matter if I like it. I married him, and that is that."

Claire looked as if she were going to protest this tirade, so Ellie cut her off with, "Last time I consulted the laws of Britain and the Church of England, marriage was permanent. So you had better get used to my presence here at Wycombe Abbey, because I'm not going anywhere."

Charles had started to applaud, but Ellie was still so furious with him over the salt comment that she could only glower at him in return. And then, because she was certain she'd do someone bodily harm if she remained in the dining room one moment longer, she stomped off.

But her husband had been hot on her heels. "Eleanor, wait!" he called out.

Against her better judgment, she turned around, but not until she had reached the hall outside the dining room, where the rest of the family would not be able to see her humiliation. He'd called her Eleanor— never a good sign. "What?" she bit off.

"What you said in the dining room," he began.

"I know I ought to be sorry I yelled at a young girl, but I am not." Ellie said defiantly. "Claire has been doing everything in her power to make me feel unwelcome here, and I wouldn't be surprised if—" She cut herself off, realizing that she'd been about to say she wouldn't have been surprised if Claire had been the one to dump so much salt in the stew.

"You wouldn't have been surprised if what?"

"Nothing." He wouldn't make her say it. Ellie refused to make childish and petty accusations.

He waited for a moment for her to continue, and when it became apparent that she would not, he said, "What you said in the dining room... about marriage being permanent. I wanted you to know that I agree with you."

Ellie only stared at him, not sure what he meant.

"I am sorry if I have bruised your feelings," he said quietly.

Her mouth fell open. He was apologizing!

"But I do want you to know that despite these very minor, er, setbacks—"

Ellie's mouth settled into a grim and angry line.

He must not have noticed because he kept talking. "—I think you are becoming a superb countess. Your behavior with the tenants the other day was magnificent."

"Are you telling me I am more suited to life outside Wycombe Abbey than inside?" she asked.

"No, of course not." He exhaled and raked his hand through his thick, brown hair. "I am simply trying to say... Hell," he muttered. "What am I trying to say?"

Ellie resisted the urge to make some sort of sarcastic remark and just waited, arms crossed. Finally he thrust a piece of paper in her direction and said, "Here."

"What is this?" she asked, taking it into her hand.

"A list."

"Of course," she murmured. "A list. Just what I wanted. I have been so lucky with lists thus far."

"It is a different sort of list," he said, clearly trying to be patient with her.

Ellie unfolded the sheet and looked down.

ACTIVITIES TO PURSUE WITH WIFE

1. A ride and picnic in the countryside.

2. Revisit the tenants as a unified couple.

3. A trip into London. Ellie needs new dresses.

4. Teach her to write her own lists. They can be devilishly entertaining.

She looked up. "Devilishly entertaining, eh?"

"Mmm, yes. I thought you might like to try something like 'Seven Ways to Silence Mrs. Foxglove.' "

"The suggestion has merit," she murmured, before looking back down at the list.

5. Take her to the seashore.

6. Kiss her until she's senseless.

7. Kiss her until I'm senseless.

Charles could tell the moment when she reached the final two items, for her cheeks turned delightfully pink. "What does this mean?" she finally asked.

"It means, my dear wife, that I have also realized that marriage is permanent."

"I don't understand."

"It is high time we had a normal marriage."

She colored even further at the word "normal."

"However," he continued, "in what must have been a fit of madness, I agreed to your stipulation that you be allowed to get to know me better before we are intimate."

By now she was beyond beet red.

"Therefore, I have decided to give you every opportunity to get to know me better, every last damned chance to grow comfortable in my presence."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Pick something on the list. We'll do it tomorrow."

Ellie's lips parted in delighted surprise. Her husband was actually courting her. She was going to be a wooed woman. She'd never dreamed he'd do something so perfectly romantic. Not that he would ever admit to a romantic bone in his body. Seductive, perhaps. Even rakish, devilish, or amorous. But not romantic.

But she knew better. And that was all that mattered. She smiled and looked back down at the list.

"I suggest number six or seven," he said.

She looked back up. He was grinning in that urbane, devil-may-care fashion of his that must have broken hearts from here to London and back. "I'm not sure I understand the difference," she said, "between kissing me until I'm senseless and kissing me until you're senseless."

His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "I could show you."

"I have no doubt you could," she returned, trying very hard to sound pert even though her heart was racing and her legs felt as steady as marmalade. "But I choose items one and two. It will be very easy for us to picnic and visit the tenants on the same day."