Of all the things Constance might have been coming over to tell him, d'Artagnan thinks this might be the most unexpected, and for a moment, it's clear in the way he looks at her. It isn't as if he hasn't thought about it, the possibility of marrying her. Here as well as back in Paris, no matter how far out of reach it might have been there, with the way he feels about Constance, there'd have been no way for it not to cross his mind. It's just never been a sticking point, though, and as different as Darrow might be, it's never occurred to him that things could be different here, that just like that, she might no longer be a married woman.

Regardless of how thrown he is, it takes everything in him not to seize on that fact. He's never minded it, being with her in spite of that, but if there is an alternative, it's hard not to find it preferable even without her saying much. He has to try to hold that at bay for at least a moment longer, though. It wouldn't be fair to do otherwise. Lifting one hand from her waist for a moment to smooth some hair back from her face, he ducks his chin to hold her gaze. "Do you want to get one of those?"