While the room was not overly decorated, there was something about it that was… warm. Homey. And it was more than just the low-burning coal fire in the hearth, which Jonny was now prodding until it finally pulsed to life, his broad back muscles straining beneath his shirt, as he had tossed his jacket onto a chair.
“So, this is home,” she said, walking through the room and perching on the edge of the sofa.
“This is home, in a sense,” he said with a shrug. “My mother’s house still feels like my true home, but my sister and her family live there with her now.”
“Do you visit often?” Ada said softly, enjoying these small pieces of information about his life that Jonny was providing, pieces she wasn’t sure he would ever offer again. She didn’t want to pry too much now and scare him off.
“Very often,” he affirmed, pausing before adding, “it’s where Will and I met up again. My mother basically forced us into talking, but I’m glad she did.”
“I’m sure she loves you. Very much,” Ada said, looking around, drumming her fingers against her knee as she wondered just how this was going to work. Where would she possibly sleep? She had brought nothing with her. She was still wearing the white gown her mother had selected for her wedding without even telling her.
“You look beautiful,” Jonny said, as though reading her thoughts. Ada’s cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, but he would no longer meet her gaze.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I have nothing else. No clothing, none of my belongings…”
“Maggie will help you,” he said, and suddenly Ada’s formerly unjealous streak spurred to life. That is, until headded, “my sister. She’s about your size and the house isn’t far.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Ada said, feeling foolish, hopeful that he hadn’t noticed her momentary lapse in judgment. Although, if she wasn’t mistaken, that was a smirk directed her way.
She longed to ask what they were doing here and how he foresaw the arrangement’s duration, yet for one of the first times in her life, Ada remained silent.
For she had a fairly good idea of what the answer would be, and she didn’t want to hear it.
She didn’t want to hear that he felt this was partially his fault and he was looking out for her to assuage some of his guilt.
She didn’t want to hear that he might be interested in having some fun for a night or two, but not anything long-term.
And she most certainly didn’t want to hear that she should get herself together and go try to marry David Carter again.
“I know this isn’t what you’re used to,” Jonny said after stealing a glance at her, obviously reading correctly that she was upset, but making the wrong assumption as to why. “But I can promise it’s clean, and you’ll be safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know you won’t,” she said softly. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that Jonny looked after those who he cared for, and, apparently, she was, for the moment at least, one of those people.
Ada’s stomach rumbled — loudly and embarrassingly — and she closed her eyes, hoping that Jonny hadn’t heard it.
But when he stood without a word and walked into the small kitchen area, it was obvious that he most certainly had.
“Eggs and toast all right?” he asked, and Ada jumped up, coming up behind him.
“I can make it if you show me where everything is.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. “Can you?”
Ada bit her lip, understanding exactly what he was asking, and she hated that he was right. No. No, she could not make eggs and toast, as awful as that sounded. She had never had to do it before, as they had always had the means to hire a cook. She just had to tell a servant what she’d like, and a short while later, it appeared before her. It was a reminder of the different upbringings they’d had, but then, what did it matter when she had parents like hers, who would use her as a pawn?
“Could you teach me?” she asked, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.
“Sit,” he said, pointing a wooden spoon toward a chair beside the table.
She did as he said, watching his every motion.
Everything he did was with intention; from greasing the pan to cracking the eggs to wiping up any spills he left behind. She watched his thick, broad fingers with fascination as he plated her eggs and toast, placing one serving in front of her and the other opposite on the table, then sat across from her and handed her a knife and fork.
“Eat,” he said brusquely, gesturing to her plate, and she nodded, so many questions forming within her, but she let her hunger overtake all else.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him, meeting those hazel eyes that seemed to see right through her soul, “for everything. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he said gruffly.
