He was undeniably enchanted with his wife. She was like a promise of springtime bursting through the arid winter soil of his life. No, not a promise, perhaps. There was to be no future for them. But that was not a thought he cared to dwell upon tonight. Tonight he would simply enjoy watching her and look forward to waltzing with her later—and to having her all to himself when the ball was over. He was very much afraid that he was going to miss her dreadfully once she returned to Ringwood—but yet again he pushed aside any thought that might diminish his enjoyment of the evening.
