“They weren’t expecting us?” Matilda whispered.
“No. Upon my arrival, I gave explicit instruction that all meals were to be sent up to the suite at precise hours, and that I otherwise was not to be interrupted.”
“Dining with others is an interruption?”
“Everything that takes me away from my desk is an interruption.”
“Then why accompany me downstairs at all?”
“I am still asking myself that question.” The earl waited as the footman helped Matilda into a wooden chair before taking his own seat.
“Coffee or tea?” asked the footman.
“Tea, please,” Matilda answered.
The earl inclined his head. “Two.”
The footman bowed. “Straight away. Your breakfasts shall arrive shortly.”
“Thank you.” The earl did not look thankful. He crossed his arms over his wide chest and glared at the bustling dining room as though willing it to burst into flames.
“Do you hate all public places or just all hungry diners?” Matilda enquired.
“All public places,” he answered flatly. “And all unnecessary conversations.”
“Why not order me to take my meals in my room, as you do?”
He glowered at her rather than respond.
“Because you’re kindhearted and considerate by nature,” she answered for both of them. “How sweet.”
He looked horrified.
“How temporary,” he corrected her. “We depart as soon as the competition ends. When we reach London, my usual habits will resume. And as soon as you reach your majority or land a suitor, whichever comes first, I shall have one fewer annoyance to worry about.”
She beamed at him. “You worry about me? You really are the sweetest man. In fact, you’ve helped me to see that if I ever do choose a suitor, I shall not accept less of a true gentleman than you yourself.”
“When you take a suitor,” he said repressively, “it will likely be the one and only sad fool desperate enough to—”
“Two hot breakfasts.” A serving maid with a heavy tray began to set a series of small plates on the table. “Eggs, kippers, toast, marmalade, fresh fruit—oh, and here comes your tea. Thank you, Hilda. There you are, then. Enjoy your meal.”
Matilda expected Gilbourne to shovel as much food into his mouth as possible, so as to avoid any further conversation with her.
Instead, he simply lowered his baleful glare from her face to the hot dishes on the table, as though they’d been placed there with no other aim but to vex him with their very existence.
She helped herself to a healthy portion of everything, keeping up a constant patter about the smell of fresh bread, the joy of orange marmalade, and the satisfying saltiness of a nice hot kipper.
The earl looked as though he’d rather bury himself alive than suffer through an additional moment in this dining room. He consumed a single piece of dry toast.
As soon as Matilda put down her fork, he shot out of his chair. “That’s over, then.”
She folded her napkin before she rose. “Off to the festivities, are we? How delightful.”
“I intend to return to the peace and quiet of my private chambers until the hour for the ridiculous tart-and-pie competition arrives. You shall wait in your own chambers, silently, until I summon you.” He stalked from the dining room toward the stairs.
“But I thought you wanted to marry me off.”
He paused before taking the first step up. “Your point?”
