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It was not a question, but her husband instantly responded. “Of course I do, Evelyn. I defy anyone not to know you and love you.”

“Well, there you are, then,” she said firmly, as though she had irrevocably proven her point. “If you can love a—an artwork in progress, then so can I.”

For a moment, Richard just looked at her. The blazing look in his eyes was one of possession and devotion, and Evelyn could not help but love that she was the one who’d sparked it. Who had made him look like that.

He pulled her into his arms for an embrace—an almost chaste one, at first, but one that swiftly grew in heat as Richard placed his lips on hers.

Evelyn responded passionately, not caring that they were in public, not caring that they were standing on the Dover docks, which was not, strictly speaking, an appropriate place for a daughter of an earl and a viscountess to be standing.

None of that mattered. The instant Richard began kissing her, the two of them were the only people in the world. The way his mouth possessed hers, the tingling ache building between her legs, the way his hands grasped her waist, his tongue teasing pleasure from every inch of her mouth…

When they finally parted, Evelyn was not surprised to see that they were both a little breathless.

“I could do that all day,” panted Richard in a low voice.

“Don’t tempt me,” she replied in a whisper.

Oh, it had been so long since they had lost themselves in each other. What, an hour? How long had it been since they’d exited the carriage?

“I wish I could lie down here and—”

“Party of Sempill?”

Giggling, Evelyn stepped out of her husband’s arms and looked up into the honest and flushing face of a man dressed like a seafarer.

“Yes,” said Richard with a nod of his head. “And you are the captain?”

“I am that,” said the man. “Ship’s just this way. Luggage?”

“Our trunks are in the carriage at the end of the docks,” said Evelyn. “I’m afraid I’ve brought quite a lot—not knowing where I was going, packing was an absolute nightmare.”

She cast a glare at her husband, but Richard only grinned. “All the more fun, I suppose! We’ll be with you shortly, Captain.”

The man nodded, still staring a little curiously at them before turning back to his ship.

“We really shouldn’t be kissing in public,” Evelyn murmured.

“Oh, poppycock,” Richard said bracingly. “Come on. Let’s collect our trunks from Dankworth. Laurent doesn’t get seasick, does she?”

“I have no idea. Though she’s crossed the Channel before.” That was something she had not thought about. “In truth, I do not know if I get seasick. What fun we’ll have, finding out. I had hoped to use the voyage to finish off a few sketches.”

Richard laughed as they walked slowly along the docks, hand in hand. “I thought you said that you had finished all your projects?”

“All my paintings, yes,” Evelyn said happily, attention wandering over a set of three barrels, placed in a beautiful trio that would have made an excellent charcoal drawing. “Completing the one of Leopold with his bow and arrow was a particular triumph, though I say so myself.”

“It looked marvelous,” her husband very obligingly agreed. “But… Well. I thought you did not like people looking at your paintings. After creating such a masterpiece—”

Evelyn scoffed. “ Richard !”

“Such a masterpiece,” he repeated with a relentless grin, “you have to expect that your cousin will wish to display it. By the time we return to London, you may find that you and your talents are even more famous.”

It was a heady thought, and not one she wished to give much time to. “I suppose so.”

Richard clasped a hand around her shoulders as they neared the carriage. “I’m proud of you. The world doesn’t deserve you and your art, but I am inclined to think it needs it. Sharing your talent with the world truly is very brave.”

A rush of relief poured through Evelyn at his words. That was it—she was brave. She did not have to like it, but there it was.

“I’ve spent so much of my life hiding my art away,” she said quietly. “I… I suppose it is time for me to truly test myself.”

“And it was with that in mind,” Richard said, halting suddenly, “that I organized our honeymoon.”

Evelyn stopped beside him, her heart skipping a beat. With what in mind? Her art—her bravery? Testing herself?

What on earth had Richard done?

“You did?” she said nervously.

Richard grinned. “I did. We are going on a tour of Italy—Rome, Venice, Sienna, Morena—all the best places.”

Evelyn’s mouth fell open. “We’re not.”

“And at every stop, we shall be halting for a few days,” Richard continued, pure delight radiating from his face. “A day to relax, a day for you to meet one of the great local artists and receive instruction, and a day to enjoy amorous congress. Sometimes all in the same day.”

Face burning with the hope that no one had heard that, Evelyn lowered her voice, hardly daring to believe it—believe him . “We are?”

“Your art means everything to you, and you mean everything to me.” Richard took her hands in his, his face serious once more.

“And I am going to spend the rest of my life making sure that you are happy, Evelyn. You have an eye for art, I do not deny it, but I have an eye for the chance. This Chance.”

Evelyn gave a laugh, hardly daring to believe it. Italy! Rome, Venice—all the places she had longed to go!

“I’m a Sempill now, actually,” she teased, stepping closer and pressing a kiss upon his cheek. “You might not have heard.”

“Oh, I heard,” Richard said in a low voice, pulling her into his arms as Dankworth and Laurent started to take the trunks out of the carriage, ready for the adventure across the water. “And I can’t believe how fortunate I am, Evelyn. I just can’t believe it.”

And as he lowered his lips to Evelyn’s waiting ones, and she lost herself in his fiery kisses… neither could she.