‘Would I not be sitting in a different room then?’
He shot her a look, which she decided to interpret as friendly exasperation and not irritation. ‘For the sake of today, let us pretend this is where you will be.’ He pulled out a chair for her. ‘Ladies are seated first. You talk to the person on your right for the beginning half of the meal and then the person on your left after Emily indicates it is time to do so.’
‘Goodness,’ she said as she sat down, taking in the glinting silverware. ‘This is a lot of cutlery.’
‘Take it from the outside inwards. The first dish will always be soup; this evening it will be fish. Today, I shall be both server and your dinner guest. Here.’
He placed a bowl in front of her and she caught another brief hint of his cologne. She breathed in deeply, trying to identify the scent. His arm froze and heat rushed over her skin; she had acted without thinking. Glad she had her back to him, she peered down at her crockery in front of her, bending her head to try and hide her blush. Expecting the soup bowl to be empty, she found there was more of the delicious fruit cake from earlier, cut into the crude shape of a fish. Laughter bubbled up from inside her, and she turned her face to look up at him, despite the redness that surely must be showing on her skin.
He shrugged. ‘You seemed to like it.’
‘I did.’ Her voice didn’t sound quite like her own. There was a breathy quality to it she had never heard before. Clearing her throat, she turned back to the fish-shaped cake.
‘That is the soup spoon,’ he said, a broad finger pointing to one with a rounded end. ‘You should take the liquid from the outside of the bowl. Be careful not to make a noise, because heaven forfend anyone near you realises you are eating. They can see it but not hear it.’ He took the chair to her right. There was no place set for him, but he pretended to be holding a soup spoon. ‘Do start.’ He gestured to her bowl.
She began to eat, working from the outside of the cake inwards. ‘When you are not instructing people on the best way to eat, what do you do?’ she asked, after she had taken a few mouthfuls. The cake was as splendid as she remembered, perhaps even more delicious because of the shape it had been cut into. The gesture was frivolous and fun but also caring. She wondered if he had instructed the kitchen to do it to put her at ease or whether he had stood alone in the dining room, carving the fish. The thought of him doing it himself made her chest ache alarmingly.
‘I do what all young gentlemen do with their time. I fence, I sometimes box, I go to my club.’ There was something dismissive about his answer, almost like he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. It was what she had expected him to do, but now she knew he had readPride and Prejudice, she somehow didn’t believe it was the whole story. He briefly raised a shoulder, dismissing the topic. ‘When you finish, place the cutlery in the bowl. It will be taken when everyone has done the same and the next course will begin shortly afterwards.’
He took her empty bowl away and replaced it with a clean plate. ‘Tobias will carve the meat, glaring at it the whole time as if it personally offended him. I think it is because he hates peoplewatching him, or perhaps he even hates people. It is difficult to tell. Anyway, once he has finished you will receive some.’ Edward placed a thick slice of heavily buttered bread on her plate. ‘This is representative, you understand.’ She nodded, her mouth watering, desperate to tear her teeth into it. She had not had bread that smelled as good as this in months, years possibly. Perhaps not since her mother had died; her mother had been an expert baker. ‘The accompanying dishes will be served to you.’ He reached up, lifting the lids off the tureens in front of them. He ran through a list of vegetables, placing small fruit tarts in pastry around the edge of the plate for every item. Each time his large hands set a delicate cake on her plate, the strange pang beneath her ribs intensified. ‘It is this knife and fork.’ He gestured to the utensils.
There was a lump in her throat. She swallowed, trying to get some words past it. She’d thought him abrupt and standoffish, thought that, for whatever reason, he did not like her. While watching the carriages from her bedroom windows, she’d resolved not to let his sour act drive her from this house. Never had she misjudged a person so badly. She’d known he’d been watching her earlier, in the Blue Lounge, but she had thought he was wondering how they had managed to find themselves saddled with her. Instead, he must have seen the longing on her face, must have understood just how keen she was to eat the tarts as well as the cakes, how she had held back from sheer force of will because she did not want to look greedy in front of her new acquaintances. He had understood her in those short moments, better than anyone ever had, better even than Simon who had known her her entire life.
He cleared his throat. ‘If you do not like peas, do not feel you have to eat them.’ He gestured to a lemon tartlet, which glistened with goodness.
‘I am very partial to all vegetables,’ she said, picking up the knife and fork he had indicated and slicing into the flaky pastry.
She slowly made her way through the plate he had assembled for her, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as he outlined more of the pointless rules the upper class lived by.
‘Do you have any other questions?’ he asked, as she finished the last of her food.
Shaking her head, her stomach pleasantly full for the first time in a very long time, she had no questions about anything at all.
‘Once the meal is at an end, Emily will lead the ladies to the sitting room for tea,’ he continued. ‘The gentlemen will drink port and join you when finished. If you have had enough, you can leave at any point after the meal, but it would be seen as rude if you were to leave before it ends.’
She shifted in her seat so she was facing him. ‘Thank you, My Lord. You have been very patient and I…’
‘Edward,’ he said softly. ‘If we are going to be living under the same roof, you should call me Edward.’
‘Edward then.’ His name felt strange on her tongue, although she was not sure why. ‘You have been kind and…’ She stopped a wave of heat sweeping over her as a horrible thought dawned on her.
‘What is it?’
‘I have nothing to wear.’
His gaze flicked to her dress and back up to her face. ‘I…’
‘For this evening. This is my best gown.’ They both looked at it. It was perfectly serviceable. It was one of the only dresses she owned that did not have any of her less-than-perfect sewing holding patches together, but it was not suitable for dining with a duke. She would look like a governess and there would be nohiding who she really was. All this learning about cutlery was pointless.
‘Let us find Emily,’ he said, standing and pushing his chair back.
‘It is too late. Even if I borrow something, it will not fit right.’ Emily was tall and slender whereas she was short. She was naturally curvy, although the months of restricted diet had meant her breasts were not what they once had been. Despite that, there was still more of her than Emily.
‘Emily is excellent with a needle and thread, do not worry.’
He strode out of the dining room with Kate following quickly behind him and Jane scurrying after them.
‘I do not want to disturb her if she is resting.’
