She tucked her companion book into her reticule. “Breakfast. Though if you mean favorite food, I would have to say honey cake. Or perhaps orange cream. Or buttered apple tart. My father’s cook makes the absolute best buttered apple tart.”
A chuckle escaped him; he could not help it.
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, but he saw her fighting a smile when she said, “Is something amiss with my tastes?”
“Not at all. I was simply noticing that they lean heavily toward sweets.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what is wrong with that?”
His hands lifted in mock surrender. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Her laugh sounded then: a light, airy sound. He wondered if she ever became so amused that the sound deepened. With the level of passion with which she played the pianoforte and had reprimanded him a time or two, he was certain that she was capable of such amusement. He resolved to elicit just such a laugh from her.
“Lord Norwich?”
“Hmm? I’m sorry, did you say something? I’m afraid my thoughts strayed.”
She laughed lightly again. “I only asked what your favorite food was.”
“Absolutely anything besides pickled vegetables.”
“No.Really?” Her look was comically aghast.
“Yes, really. Why in the world would one ever like something that came from the ground and then was boiled until the small flavor was pulled right out? And then, as if that were not bad enough, these horrid, limp earth-dwellers are stuck into a jar of vinegar for who knows how long. No. I do not like them at all and cannot see why anyone would.”
She gave him an amused look.
He narrowed his eyes. “For someone who so dearly loves her sweets, I doubt you like pickled vegetables much either.”
“You would be wrong. I am quite fond of them. But I have never met a boy over ten who was so vehemently against them as you are, Lord Norwich.”
He scoffed, feigning afront.
She smiled.
Someone jostled him as they passed. They had once again stopped walking entirely. He cleared his throat and held out his arm. Amelia took it, and he pulled her slightly closer to him as they continued through the museum. This woman was, quite honestly, a surprise. He was enjoying every moment with her.
And if he wasn’t much mistaken, she seemed to be enjoying her time with him as well.
***
Sunlight streamed through Amelia’s bedchamber windows, and she pushed herself into a seated position. A tray on her writing desk made her stomach grumble with anticipation, despite the irregularity of breaking her fast in her chambers. She pulled herself from bed, wrapping her body in a dressing gown, and crossed the room.
The tray was piled high with honey cakes, orange cream, and buttered apple tarts. Next to the offerings was a cup of chocolate and next to that was a note. Her heart flipped in her chest, and she placed a hand over it, not willing to analyze the reaction. She unfolded the paper.
I hope you find these pastries to your liking. I sent a maid to retrieve the buttered apple tart recipe from your father’s cook. She refused to give it up, so I apologize if these tarts are inferior.
Edward
Her fingers lifted to cover her mouth as she read. He had attempted to secure the recipe for her? Warmth blossomed in her stomach, not at all elicited by the delicious food before her.No, she silently reprimanded herself. Lord Norwich was a practiced flirt and likely knew exactly how to flatter a woman. After all, hardly a week had passed since he was calling her histreasure. Such a man could not be sincere. She ought not to look too much into it.
And yet, her eyes lingered over his name as she considered the note. It was incredibly thoughtful of him. The action so vehemently opposed all she had ever heard of the man. She may need to find a time to ask him outright about his reputation. It would need to be a tactful interrogation, though; she did not wish to offend him. But shedidneed to know. Because she feared she was beginning to enjoy their time together a bit too much.
Another thought fought its way into her already overburdened mind: if she were to demand truth from him, ought she to share secrets of her own? Would that only push him away before she even managed to get close enough to discover the mystery that was her husband?
Amelia placed a piece of the apple tart in her mouth. It was delicious but did not quite live up to the heavenly tarts Papa’s cook made. She only hoped Lord Norwich would not similarly fall short of the view of him she was creating in her mind.
Chapter Sixteen
