Rawdon considered that for a moment, and then seemed to agree with her assessment of it as an adventure. “Yes, it is that after all,” he agreed, surprised to find that he wasn’t too bothered by the idea. Surely he should be openly weeping over the loss of his new wife, or at least asking about her. But he wasn’t.
“Texas. And what is it a part of now, if not Mexico?” he asked, not wishing to leap to conclusions. “Deepest, darkest Hampshire,” he said, just quoting his dear wife’s assessment of his hometown. He wasn’t used to people asking, they tended to just know, considering that the borough of Queen’s Crawley was named for his own family. “It’s on the south coast,” he added, not mentioning the family connection. It was liberating. “At least, my family are still residing there, I am mostly in London,” he explained. Work kept him stationed centrally for the most part.