“Our interests are different.” She frowned. “If I could, I’d make love to you every day, but I don’t think of you as a potential husband. Is...that strange?”“I understand completely,” he said. “That’s my point. You do love me, and I love you, but not in the sense that you were afraid of, and that you warned Chester of.”She blinked. “You’re right!” She looked amazed. “I love you ... but that’s not a threat to anything!”They talked a little longer and then fell silent. She wanted to make love one. The ladies of Lady Chatterton’s household and of Mistress Pickles’ household mingled and took of the dainty dishes laid out upon the long table. It was a groaning board and Jenkins oversaw the replenishment of those dishes by the house’s serving girls as necessary. Wine was carried to us on silver trays and carried by servants from both households. It was a glittering affair, candelabra sparkling in the candlelight, soft music and a hubbub of conversation. Mistress Pickles was elegant and. More

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