When she glanced up, it was to find Deverill watching her with a subtle cant of the head. In an instant, a flood of realizations crashed through her. She’d eaten her scone neither elegantly nor like a lady. In fact, the possibility—nay,probability—existed that she’d devoured it in fewer than five bites. Further, in her haste, she’d disappointingly forgotten the strawberry jam.
And Deverill had quietly watched.
As if she were an animal at the zoo.
Well, she might not have behaved all that dissimilarly from one.
The heat of mortification thrummed through her.
He shifted forward and, with the hand not holding teacup and saucer, pushed his scone across the table—toward her.
She should’ve experienced a doubling of humiliation.
And she almost did.
Almost.
But the scone yet held a hint of warmth from the oven and it would be a sin to allow the strawberry jam to go untasted…
She lifted the pastry from the plate and willed her fingers to go slow—first, splitting open the scone…then spreading a thick swathe of jam across the crumbly surface, making sure to save some for Cumberbatch. Strawberries were a particular favorite of his.
So it was that Beatrix ate Deverill’s scone, too.
And perhaps with a little more ladylike finesse than she’d consumed the first.
Afterward, she couldn’t say.
It had been a fever dream of deliciousness.
She reached for her tea and took a delicate sip.
All the while, Deverill hadn’t moved a muscle. “All finished?”
“I like scones.”
“Now, will you answer the question?” he asked. “Why were you in my hotel suite last night?”
As she’d been about to do earlier, she offered him the truth. “I wanted to see how you lived.” She couldn’t not add, “For my grubby gossipmongering, of course.”
A dry exhalation sounded through his nose as he settled back into his creaky settee and took a sip of tea, never once taking his eyes off her.
The man was contemplating her.
And she wasn’t certain how she felt being the object of his contemplation.
Whatever he was seeing, it was too much.
Something she hadn’t volunteered.
And she didn’t like that.
But she saw something, as well.
It was too late for him not to see it.
It had been so from the moment she’d invaded his private rooms and set all this in motion.
Consequences.
