<strong>Hugh, Baron Covington</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/03/Geraint_Baron_Hugh_Covington_Av.jpg)</div>Hugh is quite sure that Lady Katherine  will either be quite scandalized by his words, or think him mad.  So he's delighted when she seems merely amused.<br/><br/><em>“My Lord! ... Whatever will the servants think? Truly I have not played such a game since I was a child. I highly doubt my dresses could suffer the dust and cobwebs, nor my body fit within the best of hiding places.”</em><br/><br/>Just that quickly, they seem like co-conspirators, and her words have him thinking about her body and fitting places, and it is all he can do to fend of the most wanton thoughts.  But then, again, she is to be his wife, so why should he not entertain such thoughts.  In truth, Lady Katherine is virtually glowing now form their illicit chatter, and he dares to wonder if he might indeed have found a kindred spirit in her, right down to the twitching lips and the ill-suppressed giggle.  He is totally charmed by her, as his words so candidly state.<br/><br/>More than  that, though, he finds himself opening up to her, telling her things that he has never shared with anyone, much less his parents.  He rather doubts that they know the estate is making a profit, and isn't about to enlighten them.  And his thoughts about the nature and obligation of nobility, he has never really shared with anyone before.  All in all, he is quite surprised by his own expansiveness.<br/><br/>All along, people have made assumptions about him, that he has never bothered to challenge, rather preferring to be the proverbial black sheep of the family.  Of course there are some things about his personal preferences that might make the most dour of countenances blanch.  But he imposes them upon nobody, not even the knowledge of them.  In time he will have to think about the effects of those on Lady Katherine, though most ladies would greatly prefer not to know.<br/><br/>Bit for the moment, he fins himself so infatuated with his betrothed, that he simply goes on for the light that sparkles in her eyes as she listens to him.  She is taking him quite seriously, which few people have ever done.  In fact, at points she seem quite inspired by his words.  he can feel them drawing closer in more than just proximity, now that they have the brief opportunity to speak candidly with each other.  Surely both of their mothers would be scandalized by the conversation, but that only makes it all the more satisfying.<br/><br/>Just as she seems attracted to his whimsies, so he finds himself attracted to hers.  Just the way she speaks of ballooning makes his spirit soar.  So, of course he is eager to share it with her, even if the proper lady in her is rather scandalized by is all.<br/><br/><em>“Do not jest, sir! A proper, married lady climbing into one of those contraptions? While surely I dream of touching the clouds, I would not dare to think it something that would come true. It is kind of you to offer such a hope.”</em><br/><br/>He smiles, feeling the press of her other hand to his fingers holding hers..<br/><br/>"I would not jest, my lady, over a desire held so closely to the heart.  And indeed there are advantages to the country, where a lady might dare wear a riding habit and be gently lifted into a basket by her husband's arms."<br/><br/>It is in such a mood that Hugh turns back to his betrothed in isolation, and looks at her  differently than before.  There he asks her the one question that has been most prominent upon his mind since he set eyes upon her this evening.  For a moment he fears that his impudence has struck her quite immobile, as she does not even breathe.  But then he sees the pulse at her throat, and the fleeting movement of her eyes to his lips.  Her answer is but a single syllable, whispered in a sigh, though it is not clear whether is an answer to his question or invitation to a liberty being taken.<br/><br/><em>"Yes..."</em><br/><br/>When she does qualify it, her words are so charming, that he can only smile.<br/><br/><em>"I have. I have ... I have often kissed your letters, imagining you doing the same. Often pressed my lips to paper before posting my letters to you "</em><br/><br/>His wife to be is a romantic, beyond any doubt.  And he is thrilled by the fact.  There is fear in her eyes, yet she does not bolt, nor chide him for his impertinence, and he has taken her words quite seriously.<br/><br/>"In that case, dear lady, I should think that you would wish to know how mine felt first hand, for comparison."<br/><br/>It is licentious, of course, and would surely scandalize at least half of the room, were it known.  But he cares not for the crowd who will not see ... only for the woman who will feel.  It is but half an inch that he moves, to gently press his lips against hers, not to peck and run, nor to linger and provoke, rather simply to demonstrate that the lady has touched his heart, and he would touch hers as well.  He finds it personally quite pleasant.<br/>