He had gone to dinner, and it had taken a lot of courage and made him feel quite uncomfortable, but he was pleased to have done so by the end of the evening. Then again, it did not mean that he was ready to go out into the world and bare his scars for all to see. It was easier to hide in the shadows than step into the sun, and he preferred it that way.
It was strange for him to have even shown his face to Lady Ophelia, who had seen it before, but he had not cared about what she thought. His only intentions were to prevent her from saying something unkind to Lady Jacqueline.
He had been thinking a lot about his behavior around Lady Jacqueline of late, and he wondered if it was truly nothing more than mere gratitude for what she had done for him, or if it was something more.
He shook the thoughts from his head. She had only been there for a few days. Was that truly enough time to like someone so much that he could feel jealousy at the sight of her with another man?
He wanted to do something for her.
“And where are we going?” She asked the next morning, laughing as she followed him out into the gardens, a maid in tow to act as chaperone.
“Is it not evident from the basket?” He asked, lifting it up pointedly.
“It could be a few things. Perhaps you have simply brought a lot of candles to light and put out, and that is our activity for the day.”
“Would you be entertained by that?”
“I do not believe so, no.”
“Ah, that is a shame indeed, for that is precisely what I had in mind for the two of us.”
He kept up the act until they had reached their destination, and he then placed the basket on the ground and allowed her to open it. She gasped at the picnic that he had prepared; little sandwiches, biscuits, cakes, and drinks.
“I must thank your cook when I see her,” she said wistfully.
“You can thank me whenever you please.”
“What?”
“I could not sleep last night,” he explained. “It had been rather eventful, and I needed something to do with my hands this morning. Granted, I did not bake the bread, but other than that this was all made by myself.”
“But these—these are my favorites!” She said in surprise as she searched the contents. “How did you know?”
“Your sister knows everything about you,” he smirked. “And she was more than happy to tell me what you would like to eat.”
“You truly have thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“I hope so, yes. I have been wanting to do something for you, and this is what I settled on.”
“You have done exactly the right thing,” she smiled, serving him some of the food he had prepared. “Did you include any of your own favorites?”
He had not been expecting that question.
“No,” he replied. “I was only thinking of yours, though I must say I do enjoy them a lot.”
“Oh, in that case, what are your favorites?”
He certainly had not expected that question. Nobody had ever cared to ask about his preferences other than his own parents, even when he was out in society,whole, as he so often put it. It had never been about what others could do for him, only what he could do for them, and he hadn’t minded that too much. When a man was in a position such as his, it was only fair that he gave back, after all. But then, as he watched his friends disappear when he needed them, he realized that he truly did need people to care about him.
And now here she was.
“I suppose I am partial to cucumber,” he said quietly.
“Cucumber?” She echoed. “Do you not like anything a little more adventurous?”
“I enjoy jam.”
“Which kind is your favorite?”
