“That’s part of the freedom, isn’t it?” He didn’t reply, so she added, “I’ve never imagined anything as freeing as love must be.” She smiled, and he saw the sadness in the fading light. “I hope to experience it, of course. All the bits and pieces.” “With your baker.” He disliked the taste of the words. She did not hesitate. “In our bookshop, gifted to us by a losing marquess, who was positively obsequious with his compliments.” The words made him chuckle. “Do not count your books before they are shelved, my lady.” Silence fell for a long moment before he added, “It is not the stuff of poems
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