“Weall did it,” Anna said proudly, puffing out her small chest. “But Mr. Stannis was the head chef!”
The door opened, and Lizzie burst inside, clutching a basket to her chest. “You are awake!”
“I overindulged,” Georgianna said, smiling. “You went into town?”
“Yes,” Lizzie said sheepishly, coming over to hand the basket to Daniel. “I was trying to make it back home before you ventured down.”
“Mesdames, emmenez votre sœur à la salle à manger,” he said with a dramatic French accent, startling himself that he could speak French. Daniel frowned, wondering if they even understood that he had asked them to escort Georgianna to the dining room. His heart beating a harsh rhythm, he continued, “Go, I shall present our meal shortly.”
Sarah and Anna chortled.
“Oui, monsieur, to the dining room we go,” Lizzie replied with a similarly exaggerated French accent, giggling as she tugged his wife away.
Georgianna glanced over her shoulder, and their gazes collided. There was a tenderness there he had never seen before, and it rendered his mouth dry. Beyond that tenderness, he saw regret…and sorrow, and Daniel frowned, a tight feeling twisting inside his chest. A soft smile touched her mouth, and she looked away, leaving the kitchen.
His wife had looked at him as if she believed he would soon be lost to her. His gut tightened and something inexplicable inside him recoiled. What was she thinking?
Lizzie returned to help him take the serving platter upstairs to the dining room where his wife waited. He lifted a brow when he noted Anna and Sarah were missing.
“The girls and I decided to take our meal in the parlor,” Lizzie said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “We thought it best you and Georgie enjoyed this time together.”
A delicate blush stole across the high ridges of his wife’s cheekbones, her eyes gleaming with that sensual allure. Lizzie continued on with a platter, and he set his fare before his wife. Daniel reached for the bottle of wine he’d asked Lizzie to procure for him, opened it, and poured two generous portions in the crystal cut glasses on the table.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “The last time a birthday meal was cooked for me, it was Mama and Papa who prepared it.”
He nodded once and, with surprising eagerness, reached for her plate and ladled the stuffed veal onto it. He shared the same onto his plate before reaching for his glass.
“A toast to you, wife. I am…awed by you.”
“Sir?”
How alarmed she sounded, her delicate fingers tightening over the stem of her wineglass.
“I see hardship around you, yet you live and love life vibrantly. You are kind and selfless. You work tirelessly for your family without worrying about your own welfare. At first, it incensed me, but then I see how happy Anna, Lizzie, and Sarah are. You devote yourself and thrive despite the odds because you love your siblings deeply. I admire you. You are without any adornment from me, yet you exist with good humor and cheer. You walked almost two hours yesterday to someone’s home, prepared a lavish feast, and then walked back home, and still you pattered about cooking for them and telling Anna stories before her bedtime. I vow, one day, I’ll buy you a lavish carriage, and you’ll have a cook, a maidservant, a footman, and a butler.”
His wife stared at him as if he were a creature she had never before seen, the pulse at the hollow of her throat fluttering madly.
Her lips parted, and Georgianna blinked away at what might have been a sheen of fresh tears. “Daniel I do not know what…”
“Happy birthday, wife. You need not say anything—simply believe in me and my promise.”
She nodded wordlessly and took a swallow of her wine. Lowering it to the table, she reached for her knife, tucked into the tender veal, and took a hearty bite, her lashes fluttering closed.
“The girls recommended pigs’ feet as the best meal you would wish for,” he murmured.
She swallowed, and a light laugh left her. “In truth, I enjoy food so much, I do not have a favorite. There are so many delights I have never experienced for me to decide on a dish as the one I prefer above all.”
She took another mouthful, chewing slowly.
“Is it good?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hmm.”
The sound was arbitrary, but Daniel took it as confirmation that his dish was indeed tasty. “Good. Then I shall make you dinner at least twice each week.”
She stilled and met his stare. “I am terrified at the notion.”
His wife sounded appropriately horrified. Considering the rich humor gleaming in her gaze, Daniel glanced down at the stuffed veal he had diligently prepared according to her recipe notebook. Lifting his fork, he took a mouthful and choked, regret and horror scything through him. “Bloody hell! This is awful.”
