Georgiana knew she should not, but she could not seem to help it. From her upper window, where she loved to sit and draw pen and ink studies of the ocean, she had often seen the figures of men in the distance as they shed their clothes and went into the sea.

She had never paid it much attention because they were so far away as to render any scandalous thoughts useless – but she had found herself lately gazing out of the window earlier in the morning and searching for one particular scarlet-hued robe.

Due to his financial constraints, Charles had at first taken a room over the fishmonger's, roundly considered the worst room for let in all of Sanditon. Putting aside the pervasive smell and the deafening shouts that commenced before dawn every day, the empty rooms on either side of Charles' room had been taken up by various residents of the non-human kind — wood mice, red squirrels, feral felines, and all manner of large insects, hoping for a free meal downstairs. He felt he was in a battle each day for his territory.

Georgiana knew this, and when Alexander had proposed the commission of a family portrait, she had taken him aside quietly and asked that his negotiations include a provision of half the pay up front. This had the desired effect, as Charles had immediately moved to a lovely, if tiny and frugal, room at Mansfield's Boarding House that boasted of no smells other than fresh-baked bread, and no animal occupants save Mrs. Mansfield's elderly house cat.

One added, and unexpected, benefit of his move was that he now partook of his morning swim directly below Georgiana's window.

Rosie noticed that Miss Lambe was lately at her drawing much earlier than was usual.

"The light is so much better in the morning, Rosie. Do you not see it?"

"Yes, I certainly do, Miss," Rosie replied, turning to hide her smile as the robed figure again made his way to the sea. She set down the teapot and said, "I imagine the light would be even better down on the sand."

Georgiana turned and saw Rosie's smile and could not prevent a laugh at herself. "Oh, am I so obvious?" she said, putting her head in her hands.

"Only to those of us who know you best, Miss," Rosie said with a nod.

With a deep sigh, Georgiana said, "What should I do, Rosie? The man makes me lose all sense of perspective. I meant to make him pay longer for his transgressions, but he has been a paragon of virtue since arriving in Sanditon, and I find I simply do not have the heart for it."

Rosie smiled. "You could start by inviting him to tea, I suppose." She tilted her head toward the sea. "You might just catch him if you go down now."

Georgiana had the good manners to be shocked. "What? Now? While he's bathing?"

Rosie scoffed. "No, Miss! I only meant that if you waited on the boardwalk, perhaps looking out at the sea, you might chance to meet him as he comes back up."

Looking back out at the ocean, Georgiana raised an eyebrow. She had to admit she was tiring of keeping him at arm's length – and his sweet behavior at last night's Heyrick Park dinner had touched her deeply. Had she and Charles had no history whatsoever, and she were just meeting him, she would think him the kindest, loveliest and most handsome man she had ever encountered. His conversation with Leonora had charmed everyone at the table, and the fact that he had joked about his poverty had shown her that money seemed not to matter to him quite so much as it used to.

Nodding to Rosie, Georgiana followed her out to the front hall and took a quick look at herself in the mirror. She adjusted her hair slightly, and then lifted her chin, knowing that she need not put on airs with Charles. She was now convinced that he had truly painted her soul – that her outside trappings were not as important to him as what lay in her heart – and in part, that was what was compelling her to seek him out now. She put on her cape and bonnet to protect against the light sea wind, and made her way downstairs.

There was a bench that she loved, just beyond her apartments, that had not only a wonderful prospect of the sea, but was also partially hidden by the building and thus not a target of the many tourists this time of year.

She settled herself on it and did her best to project nonchalance, and then she smiled at the affectation, knowing that Charles would see right through it. With a sigh, she realized that was part of her strong attraction to him. He knew her. So she turned on the bench so that she was looking right at him, watching him as he traversed the long stretch of sand toward her. His red silk robe was open and blowing in the wind, revealing his bare chest and stomach, which still bore the droplets of salt water from his swim.

Charles looked up and recognized her, and a smile began. She could imagine his thoughts and could see the combination of gratitude and elation in his eyes as he came closer. Georgiana smiled back, thinking she could give him that – he had not taken a wrong step since he had come back into her life, and he deserved to feel some pride at the changes he had wrought.

Approaching her and raising an eyebrow, Charles said, "One might think you were here waiting for me, Miss Lambe." He said it simply as a fact, without smugness.

Georgiana lifted her chin and smiled back. "One would be correct, Mr. Lockhart. I came down to ask you to tea this afternoon."

She watched as his chest rose and fell in delight, with a deep breath and then an exhale. He pulled at the tie attached to his robe and wrapped it around his waist, covering himself. It was a curious thing for him to do, and Georgiana was strangely touched. He had been so brash when he had first come to Sanditon, so intent on branding himself as a wanton and a libertine, and just that small nod to propriety made him seem somehow more mature, more settled.

Charles bowed at the waist and smiled tenderly at her. "I should be honored to join you, Miss Lambe."

Georgiana stood and went to him. She moved as close as she dared and said softly, "I believe it is time that we dispense again with the formalities, Charles. Do you think you could find your way to calling me Georgiana?"

Charles actually closed his eyes. He had such an overwhelming desire to kiss her, he had to shut her out of his consciousness for a moment, though he could still feel her near. When he opened his eyes again, he felt more in control. "I would like that very much, Georgiana."

The way he said her name. As if he added a few more syllables for good measure. Long, languorous syllables. For an extended minute, Georgiana simply peered into his eyes. She was not certain precisely what she was looking for, but her gaze was intense and searching – and Charles stayed still while she explored his eyes, his mouth, the tilt of his head.

"How can I trust you again?" she said softly.

He sighed and thought for a moment. "Ah, yes. Trust once lost is so difficult to restore. I suppose you will not…" he shrugged sadly, "...and then … perhaps you will? I cannot do more than I am doing. I cannot be more than I am. I know only that I love you, and I have never loved anyone before – and as a result, nothing is the same."

It was such a perfect answer, and so exactly what she wanted to hear, that Georgiana reached her hands up and cupped his face, still damp from the sea. She ran her fingers through the wet tendrils of his hair, and then she leaned up and kissed him, lightly.

Charles was so surprised by this that he could not move, nor did he want to frighten her with the desire it instantly brought up in him – so he employed a strength of will he had no idea he possessed. His lips were soft on hers and yielding, and he closed his eyes, but he did not pull her to him as he wanted, he only laid his hands gently on her arms and allowed her to move to him.

Georgiana pulled away, confusion in her eyes. "You do not want me?" she said with hurt in her voice.

A laugh rose in him unbidden at the absurdity of her question – and now he allowed himself to draw her to him tightly. "So much that I am at quite a loss," he said, his voice low in her ear. "I am endeavoring to not be my usual brutish self, and I will admit to having no experience at it."

He pulled away and gazed at her and then leaned down slowly – and this time, he kissed her with all of the pent-up months of remembering, of walking the streets of Paris and thinking of her, of painting clients and wanting them all to be her, of the nights he lay in bed wishing he could have one more taste of her lips – and Georgiana's knees went weak with the power of it.

"Oh!" she said against his lips, feeling slightly dizzy, laying her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding through the silk of his robe, and felt the water from the sea transfer its moisture to her cheek and hair. She laughed softly and caught her breath as they held each other, bodies pressed together, listening to the waves and the gulls calling overhead. "Well, that is better," she whispered.

Finally, she felt collected enough to move away, and she stood a short distance from him.

Georgiana's voice sounded a bit breathless. "Tea is at four o'clock," she said. Then, raising an eyebrow, she gazed down at the fringe of his sarong under his robe. "You might want to wear more clothes than you are currently wearing," she said with a smile, her eyes dancing.

Charles tilted his head and made a low bow. "If I had any idea what delights this morning would hold, I can assure you I would have worn my finest out into the sea. You caught me quite unaware."

Georgiana turned and looked over her shoulder, laughing. "Four o'clock. Do not be late."

Charlotte stood in front of the long mirror and blinked at her reflection.

"I've never owned a dress this beautiful. I feel like a princess," she said, spinning around.

Augusta was transfixed with the way the dress shimmered when Charlotte twirled. Leonora watched in wonder and nodded. "You do look like a princess. Right out of one of my books." She nodded and said matter-of-factly. "Which makes Father your prince. And what does that make Augusta and me?"

Smiling, Charlotte said, "If your father is a prince, then you are also princesses. If he is in line to become King, then you would be Princesses Royal."

Leonora's eyes went wide. "Is Father in line to be King?"

Augusta laughed. "No, silly girl. Unless he is to be King of Sanditon." When she saw Leonora's excitement increase, she said softly, "There is no King of Sanditon, Leo. I am only teasing you."

Leonora shrugged and nodded again. "I shouldn't mind being a princess, as long as I could wear my britches when I please."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "I believe that is frowned upon for princesses, Leo. So perhaps it is best that you are Miss Leonora Colbourne, which is a very fine thing to be indeed."

Leonora touched the fabric of Charlotte's dress and said softly, "How long will you and Father be in Paris?"

Charlotte bent down to her level to look her in the eyes. "Only for a week. You remember how that shows on the calendar?"

"Seven days," Leonora said sadly.

"And we wrote it on your slate, so that you can go into the schoolroom every day and make a large X before you go to bed," Charlotte said. Leonora nodded and put her arms around Charlotte, leaning her head on her shoulder. Charlotte hugged her tightly. "The time will pass before you know it. Time is like that. It is very surprising how quickly it goes."

"It only seems it has gone fast when you are past it," Leonora said. "When you are in it, it goes very slowly."

Charlotte was again amazed at how sharply Leonora perceived the world, and how deftly she expressed herself. "You are a very wise girl, Leo."

Leonora pulled away and said, "I think we should get a calendar for Augusta so that she can mark down the days until Drew comes back from Ireland." She looked up at her cousin. "She will not stop talking about it."

Augusta frowned at Leonora. "You just wait until you feel about a boy the way I feel about Drew. You will have trouble keeping silent too."

Leonora's eyebrows shot up. "I would sooner not!" she said, horrified. And with that, she went back to setting up her latest battle on the carpet. Alexander had added toy horses and small buildings to her army and she now had cavalry and fortresses in the strategy.

Charlotte sat next to Augusta on the bed and took her hand. "I know it is hard. But you still get letters every day, do you not?"

Augusta nodded. "Sometimes two. He will write pages and then before he goes to sleep, he forgets something that he wanted to tell me and must write again." She leaned her head on Charlotte's shoulder. "Still, three months is such a very long time…"

Putting her arm around her, Charlotte said, "I know. Your uncle and I were separated for four months. One hundred and twenty-eight days." She smoothed Augusta's hair back from her temple gently. "And that, without benefit of a letter or even a word."

Augusta sighed. "How ever did you manage it?"

Charlotte smiled. "When you love someone, it is not even something you can manage. It just is. There is no avoiding it. And believe me, I tried."

Augusta looked at her. "You love each other very much. Anyone can see it." Looking down at her skirt, Augusta played with the folds there. "I cannot be sure if I love Drew, but I do know that I have never felt this way before."

Nodding, Charlotte said, "That is a very good start. Love should be surprising and unique."

Augusta gazed up at Charlotte's eyes. "It can also be very painful. I saw it in my uncle for those one hundred and twenty-eight days. He attempted to hide it, and he was so different in other ways that were beneficial – but I would catch him looking out of windows, as if he were searching for something… or someone." She smiled at Charlotte. "I believe it was you."

Charlotte put her arms around her. "Oh, Augusta, I cannot tell you how happy I am that we are friends. You are an extraordinary young woman. I saw it from the first day."

Augusta laughed. "Really? Was that when I was snapping at you, or calling you a spinster?"

Charlotte laughed too. "You were coping in the best way you knew how. Your full heart was always what I saw."

Augusta smiled and then tilted her head, thinking. "So… if Drew and I were to marry, what relationship would you and I share?"

Raising her eyebrows, Charlotte said, "I should think sisters. Our ages are far too similar for me to be considered your mother, and 'aunt' feels too distant to describe what I feel for you."

Nodding, Augusta looked down again. "I agree," she said softly, a light blush coming into her cheeks. "In truth, you are already my beloved sister."

Hugging her again, Charlotte said, "I feel the same." She was very touched, and found tears beginning, but she did not want to increase Augusta's self-consciousness. So she looked down and patted the skirt of the ball gown she was wearing.

"Your uncle asked me to go to the modiste and have my measurements taken for some things for Paris, but he did not tell me he was having so many made. A ball gown, five walking dresses, three pelisse-robes, I do not know how many bonnets, hats and pairs of gloves, and some things, like chemisettes, that I have never even heard of! And so many ribbons and bows!"

Augusta nodded. "He said that he told Madame Labarge to create a wardrobe that would be appropriate for the most modern city in the world. It may seem far too much for Sanditon, but in Paris you will surely fit right in."

Shaking her head, Charlotte said, "I shall probably wear this formal one only once. I cannot imagine turning up in the Assembly Rooms in Sanditon wearing all this lace, and these flounces. I know it will be entirely a la mode in Paris, but here, I should feel like a peacock!"

Charlotte walked to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the day dresses that was in a lovely teal cotton. "Now this one, I shall wear over and over, wherever I am. This feels like me."

A soft knock caused Charlotte to say, "Come in," and Alexander peeked around the door.

"Are men allowed?" he said playfully. "I know this was formerly my bedchamber, but I fear it is lost to me now."

Charlotte walked to the door and opened it wide. "This room has the finest mirror in the house – not to mention a good space on the carpet for Leonora's parade grounds," she said, gazing at the complicated military maneuvers set out on the floor.

Alexander was not looking at his daughter, he was gazing in wonder at his wife. He was literally speechless.

Charlotte tilted her head and turned. "Do you like it? Am I ready for Paris?"

Alexander sighed. "Most decidedly. Though I am not certain Paris is ready for you, my love. You shall be the most beautiful woman there." He walked toward her and kissed her on the cheek. "I've half a mind to fill your dance card right now in anticipation of the queue that will form."

"I cannot imagine where I will be wearing this exquisite gown. Will you not tell me?" Charlotte asked.

"Le Bal de l'Ópera," Alexander said, twirling her under his hand. "It is held every year at the Paris Opera House and it boasts the most beautiful and celebrated society of not only Paris, but London, Vienna and Milan."

Charlotte's eyes grew wider with every word he spoke. Finally, she just laughed. "Have you forgotten entirely that I am a farm girl from Willingden? I shall be thrown out on my ear, Alexander!"

Drawing her to him with a smile, he said, "I assure you that you will not. And I also promise you that we will not stay a moment longer than you wish. But to be in Paris and not attend the most lavish, highly pretentious, and utterly ridiculous display of grandiosity to be had in all the world would be a missed opportunity of vast proportions. It will simply make us both appreciate all the more our life here with our girls and our trees and our horses and our books."

Charlotte simply smiled at him and shook her head lightly. "Well, if you put it that way…I suppose if I am presuming to become a writer, I could consider it research."

"That's the spirit!" Alexander said. "I promise you diversion of the highest order. And they have one of the finest orchestras to be found for dancing. Complete with Venetian mandolins."

Augusta and Leonora were now sitting together on the four-poster bed, just watching Alexander and Charlotte. "I should like to go to Paris one day," Leonora said firmly. "Napoleon was from Paris, and although he seemed to be a bad man, Mother believes he was a good soldier."

Alexander nodded and took Charlotte's hand. "That's true, Leo. Napoleon's military knowledge, his understanding of tactics, his undeniable charisma, and his quick thinking were crucial to France's successes. He will always be known as one of the finest commanders in Europe."

Leonora frowned. "So how could he be both a good and a bad man? Why was he put in exile, if he was such a good soldier?"

Charlotte sat next to her on the bed. "Do you remember when Turk jumped up and took Mrs. Wheatley's mutton chop right off of her plate?"

Both Leonora and Augusta tried not to laugh, but it was impossible.

"Well," Charlotte said, "We still love Turk and know he is a good dog, but what he did in the dining room that day was wrong, was it not? And he needed to be punished so that he would not do it again. So we put him in a room away from us, where he did not want to be, in order for him to learn."

Both girls nodded, still smiling.

"So dogs, and people, can do things that are bad and wrong, but we still love them and know that they can also be good." Charlotte looked into Leo's eyes. "No one you ever meet will be all bad or all good, Leo. And we do our best to love them all the same."

When Charlotte looked up at Alexander, sitting now on the other side of the girls, he was gazing at her with limitless love in his eyes. His heart was so full that for a moment he was unable to express it.

His wife. His girls. This life that he had thought was beyond his reach.

Finally, he could speak the words. "I love you all very much. And one day, we will all go to Paris together. I promise it."

At four o'clock on the dot, there was a knock at Georgiana's door. Rosie opened it and ushered Charles Lockhart into the foyer with a smile. When she took his coat, she could see that it was threadbare in a spot on one elbow, but she folded it quickly to hide it. Rosie was no stranger to people who were down on their luck, and from her one time meeting Mr. Lockhart she found him to be pleasant and unusually respectful of her station.

Rosie often thought that servants were the ones who could see the true colors of people. She had frequently felt invisible, and on more than one occasion, she had been made to feel like a lower form of the species because of the work she did. Miss Lambe had always treated her as a companion and had asked her opinions about things, and she assumed that was because Miss Lambe understood what it felt like to be looked down upon. Rosie felt the same from Mr. Lockhart, which was one reason she felt they would be a good match.

The first time Mr. Lockhart had arrived at Miss Lambe's, he had been accompanied by Mr. Samuel Colbourne and Mr. Arthur Parker. When she had taken his coat on that occasion, there had been the strong odor of fish emanating from it, and she knew immediately that he was staying in the rooms over the fishmonger's. Today there was no such odor, and Rosie smiled, knowing that Mr. Lockhart's fortunes were already climbing.

"Just wait here, sir, and I will announce you. Miss Lambe is taking tea in the sunroom."

A moment later, she was back. "If you will follow me, please, sir."

The last time Charles had been here, they had met in the small drawing room. Seeing Georgiana standing in the late afternoon light of the sunroom made him want to set up an easel and paint her until there was no more sun to paint by. He wanted to say so, but he held his tongue, not wanting to remind her of the past.

Then he saw it. The very portrait he had painted of her, on the wall facing the ocean. As if she were gazing out to sea.

He smiled softly. "You kept it," he said. "I thought it might have gone into the dustbin."

Georgiana walked to the painting and smiled as she looked at it. "The fact that I thought you a scoundrel did not change how much I loved it," she said softly.

"Past tense," he said, raising his eyebrows.

She looked at him quizzically.

"You thought me a scoundrel…"

Georgiana smiled at him. "Come sit with me, " she said, taking his hand.

She led him over to the settee and then sat next to him. While she poured out a cup of tea for both of them, there was no sound in the room save the ocean waves crashing in the distance through the open window.

Charles watched as she added cream and some honey to his cup, exactly as he liked it, and he couldn't prevent a quick intake of breath. She looked at him, and he said, incredulously, "After all I did to you, still you did not stop loving me?"

She laughed softly. "You can tell that by the fact that I remember how you like your tea?"

He nodded. "It is one way to know."

Georgiana sighed. "Well, it happens that it is true – I have never stopped loving you." She handed him his cup. "I could not shake the feeling that although you may have started out with cruel intentions, I had changed you somehow. It felt like vanity, but I could not believe that the connection was mine alone."

He put down his cup and said fervently, "It wasn't. And no one was more surprised than I." He shook his head lightly. "I went back to Paris expecting to pick up my life where I had left it, but I could not. That man no longer existed."

Georgiana sat back against the cushions. "So, how does this play out, Charles? You and me? What is our path from here?"

He took her hands in his. "You must know that I wish to be with you forever. That I wish to marry you."

She simply gazed at him.

Shaking his head, he said, "And, no, I do not want your money, Georgiana. Right now, I wish you did not even have it, so that you would truly believe me."

Georgiana looked down at their joined hands and said softly, "But you know it is impossible for you to marry me and not marry my money. The moment we say the words, it all becomes yours."

"It is a great unfairness," Charles said ruefully. "I have signed it away once, I shall do so again. Bring Samuel here and I will do it now."

Smiling, Georgiana squeezed his hands. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you know the law will not allow it. You would become my lord and master, and all my possessions transfer to you."

Charles kept his sharp focus on her as he thought, his eyes darting back and forth. Then he took a deep breath and said, "And what if we do allow it to go to the courts and your fortune goes to Alexander and Samuel? They can set up payments for you monthly, however you choose. That way, we could marry and my fate lies in the hands of your brothers, rather than you? I would remain penniless and would have only the depth and breadth of my love for you in the bargain."

Georgiana looked at him and smiled. "The old Charles would never have thought to suggest that."

"As I said, the old Charles no longer exists."

Georgiana stood and went to the window to look at the sea. It was her best place to think. Charles stood and came up behind her, and he could not stop himself from putting his arms around her waist and leaning his chin gently on her head. "There is no hurry. As long as I know there is a possibility, I will wait here forever. If there are no more commissions to be had, I will paint houses."

Georgiana leaned back into him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. "That would be a travesty and a colossal waste of talent."

Charles looked down at the drawing table that sat in front of the window and he reached out and picked up one of her pen and ink drawings. "Are these yours? They're very good!"

"Just some scribblings…" she said self-consciously.

"No, love, you have a gift," he said, completely unaware of the affectionate term he used. It was one he had used so many times in his head for so many months that it simply slipped out.

Georgiana turned and felt tears springing to her eyes. "I have missed you so," she said, her mouth close to his ear.

Charles clutched her tightly to him and spoke passionately. "I as well. It has been a torture, but one I welcomed, because even in missing you I could feel you near me." He bent his lips to hers and both of them remembered those days in his small house, in the garden, as he painted her and they talked – as they fell in love.

"I love you, Georgiana. So deeply. I will do anything to make this right."

She pulled away and a tear fell. He brushed it away with his thumb, again in awe of the infinite softness of her skin and the exquisite depth of her eyes.

Georgiana took a long moment to search his face and finally said, "Then I will trust you. And if I am wrong again, I will simply never love again, because nothing could compare to this in any case. I will take myself to a nunnery…"

Charles laughed softly. "Which would also be a colossal waste…" he said, before his lips found hers again.

"So at the top of Rue de Rivoli is the Musée du Louvre, which until recently was, of course, called the Musée Napoléon, because the man could not stop naming things after himself…" Alexander had found some of Leonora's toy buildings painfully with his bare feet as they had gone to bed, and one now sat on Charlotte's breastbone at the top end of one of Madame Labarge's bright yellow ribbons, which traveled the distance from there to just below her stomach.

As they had laid next to each other, Charlotte had asked him to tell her more about what they would do in Paris. Early the next morning, they would start their honeymoon, and she found she was so exhilarated that she doubted she could sleep.

Alexander was telling her about one of the most famous streets in Paris, and employing the time-honored practice of visual aids. Charlotte was again surprised at herself and how natural it felt to be lying uncovered in their great bed as Alexander described the finer points of the Rue de Rivoli.

"And unsurprisingly, the Musée Napoléon was filled with cultural artifacts that did not, in fact, belong to France, but had been seized by his armies. Those have all been returned, so although the museum we see will be smaller in size, we will at least not be gazing at artwork that has been stolen."

Softly, and nuzzling her arm, he moved further down, and said, "A bit more of a walk down the Rue de Rivoli is the Tuileries Palace…" Alexander leaned closer and kissed her just above her third rib, and she fought hard not to laugh, which would upset the small building he had placed there. He spoke seductively, in low tones. "In 1799, when Napoleon came to power as First Consul at the end of the tumultuous French Revolution, he moved into the Tuileries Palace and made it the new center of power…"

As he kissed her again, further down the ribbon, Charlotte closed her eyes tightly and grimaced. "Are you aware that this exquisite torture might be ruining this walk for me? Because as we traverse this lovely road in Paris, I shall only be thinking of this…" She leaned her head back and squirmed as he moved closer to her waist.

"Lie still, or you will miss the Tuileries Gardens, my love," Alexander said, laughing softly. "And do you know why they are called the Tuileries?"

Sighing, Charlotte said, a little breathlessly, "Have you forgotten that you are speaking to a governess? It is because the site was once the place where workshops, called tuileries, produced tiles for all the rooftops of Paris."

Alexander looked up in surprise and smiled at her. "Ah, you do know!" He raised an eyebrow. "And have you known all of the things I have been telling you?"

Charlotte laughed. "Of course I have," she said, pulling him up by his hair.

He kissed her on the lips and shook his head. "And why did you let me continue?"

Rolling on her side and snuggling under his chin, she said softly, "Because I was thoroughly enjoying your teaching methods…" She reached down and pulled the yellow ribbon from between them. "The Rue de Rivoli indeed," she said, drawing him closer.

He took the ribbon from her. "I chose yellow because Susan told me that they have started using gaslights on the streets now, and it is very romantic. She said that looking down the long boulevard is like looking at a bright yellow ribbon, all the way to the Place de la Concorde."

"And as I did not hear that conversation, that is news to me," she said, smoothing the curl back from his forehead.

"Finally! I am able to surprise the governess," Alexander said.

"You surprise me every day, my love," she said softly. "And tomorrow we take the carriage to Dover, and the packet vessel to Calais, where we will hire another carriage to take us to Paris, to our cozy flat in the Montparnasse where we will rub shoulders with artists and writers and bohemians of all stripes." She sighed against the warm skin of his chest. "It is beyond my imagination, though I have seen so much of it in drawings in books." She hugged him tightly. "I could not be more eager," she said, laughing.

Alexander said softly, "Oh?" He moved his lips to her neck, just under her ear, and breathed there, which caused her to sigh again. "You could not be more eager?" he said, moving his lips to her cheek and allowing his fingertips to trace the route where the yellow ribbon had recently resided.

"Erm…well…" Charlotte said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on the down pillow. "I may have misspoke…" She laughed softly. "Parle moi français, mon amour…"

"Avec plaisir, ma femme…"