This happens just after she discovers the first wife’s painting in his desk and he comes in to tell her that they are leaving for London. Perhaps the dark-eyed lady needed him, or maybe he could not bear to be away from her so long. If this person was her, he could have said so but he leaves it at this. But he has shared with the h about his first wife. Who’s the H referring to here? His dead wife would be a logical conclusion. But that was a long time ago, when I was too young to appreciate what such an understanding was.” Two things that I need clarification for.
And he could feel his old, grief-saddened self melting away, too. The shy, slightly worried London lady was gone. She smiled as she touched the petals, suddenly looking so very young and free. A practical moc ensues and a sweet, heart-melting and at the same time bland journey to love and hea follows. There’s a wary attraction but love doesn’t feature on their mindscapes. Some mishaps and incidents push them towards each other. The H’s a nice decent guy, if a secretly tormented widower who keeps his pain well hidden even from his family. She was quiet, watchful, where he liked blithe gregariousness, daring and humour.īut he cannot help being drawn to her again and again. She was not the sort of lady he usually liked. The society sees her as a haughty and cold ‘ice princess’ as does the H and his family.
I am not much for wallflower/bluestocking hs, for the authors tend to overs-stress on these qualities making for a flat, dreary reading.īut this h’s shyness is believable and relatable and she’s a true sweetheart. How adorably earnest she looked, his serious new duchess.Ī truly shy h unlike the purported ones who start roaring like lionesses pretty soon in the story. Another oxymoron of the day - treacly fluff!
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