She pushed her peas around. "Sophia and I are to visit a gallery this weekend. I have a portrait of you and thought to ask your permission to have it displayed."
Brand looked at her like she had grown a second head. Rosalind admitted to the inadequacy of her excuse.
He gave a faint shrug. "It is your possession." Then, "We have news. Before your fortuitous arrival, I had intended to send a note to Whitmore House."
She clutched her fork. "Are you leaving again?"
"Yes, I am," he said simply. "Madelyn is travelling with me as well. I asked, and she agreed."
"What?"
The word escaped her before she could temper it. Her gaze flew at once to Madelyn, then back to him. She wished he would set her away, instead, he would sail around the world with her?
"Do not distress yourself," he went on, "We shall return before our child is born," with another bold smile, he took Madelyn's hand in his. "I intend for my child to be born here, in Mainecroft Hall—the seat of my authority."
