And what about the way he was dressed? Sort of old-fashioned, but impeccably turned out. Like he had just stepped off the set of a period movie. He was a woman’s fantasy come true. Even the servants she had seen wore elegant uniforms. She felt horribly underdressed in her ripped jeans and boots.
This guy could be a real prince for all she knew. She chuckled at that. She was letting her imagination run away.
“Is something humorous, Miss. Mirabal?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking. Are you, by any chance, a prince?”
“Well, not quite.” He answered seriously. “But I am a nobleman. I am the Duke of Avondale.”
“Oh, I was half-joking, but it figures.” She shook her head. “I feel as if I have fallen into a fairytale. You know, the ones with the damsel in distress being rescued by the heroic prince?”
He smiled, but a shadow seemed to pass over his face so fleeting she wasn’t sure she’d truly seen it.
“I assure you, I am nobody’s notion of a heroic prince.”
“You rescued me most heroically last night.” The words tumbled out of her mouth unthinkingly, but they were true.
“Think nothing of it, Miss. Mirabal.” He looked away, apparently embarrassed by her effusive praise, and she blushed to the tip of her head.
Oh my god, was she flirting? She didn’t know how to flirt. That was an art she had never quite mastered. And now her awkward attempts at flirtation had embarrassed the poor guy after he'd been so attentive.
They finally made it to the breakfast room and sat down at the sumptuously set table. The opulence of the room distracted her from looking directly at him. Was that an authentic antique gaslight chandelier over the table? The thing was a work of art. As were the elaborate cornices and wall treatment. She fidgeted with her napkin, while her dazzled eyes roamed around the room, taking in every detail. They finally settled on him and found him looking straight at her with a curious intensity she couldn’t interpret. It made her blush again.
Fortunately, a servant appeared, dispelling the awkwardness a bit. He carried a tray containing tea, coffee, cream, and sugar.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked.
“Er, coffee, please.” She knew the English were obsessed with their tea, but she needed her coffee in the mornings. It would not be breakfast if she couldn’t have a hot cafe con leche.
The servant immediately poured her a steaming cup of delicious-smelling coffee.
“Hmmm,” she said, feeling better simply by inhaling the aroma.
“You can leave all the plates and retire, Oates. We will serve ourselves.” He addressed the servant without prying his attention from her.
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Two more servants arrived carrying covered dishes, which they set at the table. Oates uncovered them, revealing eggs, ham, sausages, and a bowl of delicious smelling buns still hot from the oven. Then he bowed and retired. Jeez, how formal these Brits were. Looking down at her travel outfit, her feelings of discomfort grew. Probably even the servants were judging her and finding her lacking. She thought she had accepted an invitation for a casual breakfast, but now she felt like she should have consulted an etiquette manual for having tea with royalty!
She sighed. Oh well, so be it. It wasn’t her fault. It was not as if she had any other outfits to wear, or could have expected to be thrown into this situation.
She was going to act like she normally did. She might not belong to the British aristocracy, but her parents had taught her manners. If she made a faux pas, he probably wouldn’t be too shocked, given that she was American.
She grabbed the cream pot and added a generous amount to her coffee, and then she added a teaspoon of sugar. Stirred and sipped carefully... ahh exquisite.
He merely observed her with that enigmatic expression on his face. It looked something like...wonder? Okay, he was weirding her out. Making her feel even more self-conscious and ruining a delicious breakfast. He wasn’t kidding when he said his cook could prepare something much better than anything she could get on the road. Even if she could find a Starbucks in these parts.
He wasn’t talking much, so once more the silence stretched awkwardly between them. She reached for a roll and started buttering it while he helped himself to some eggs and sausages.
“So,” she said, unable to bear the silence any longer, “how far is it from here to where you found me?”
“Not far at all. The place is visible from my study window. That is the reason I saw the light and decided to go investigate.”
“You saw a light? I saw a light too, right before the accident. I think that was what made me go off the road.” She considered it for a moment. “You know, I haven’t heard the whole story of how you came to find me. Could you tell me, please?”
“Certainly, but there is not much more to tell. I was looking out my study window when I saw a light that looked sort of like a lightning strike, but not quite. It seemed more like an explosion of light at ground level. I felt quite compelled to go investigate immediately. So I went to the area where I had seen it, and I found you... or perhaps I should say Samson found you.” He smiled.
“Samson?”
