Chapter Thirty-One
“It is a good thing that Cook packed more than enough food for our outing.” Elizabeth tucked her riding skirt under her knees and extracted a ham sandwich and apple from the basket. The storm had continued to rage throughout the night and into the late morning. She had woken up from a satisfying night spent in his arms and was content to remain in the hut with Langdon.
“Yes, very fortunate. Although it wouldn’t be my first time going hungry, I would prefer food to the alternative.” He sat cross-legged on the velvet in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat and opened another bottle of wine. The firelight glinted off his golden curls. There was a relaxed air about him that added to his appeal.
“The only logical alternative to food would be no food. Have you gone without food often?” Her father was stingy with most things, including the pantry. Milk and apples had sustained her many nights, as both were readily available on the farm. According to her aunt, Langdon was rich, thus she assumed he meant it as hyperbole.
The smile left his eyes.. He pulled the cork from the bottle and put it aside. “When my family came to England from France, we were destitute.”
“You are an emigre?” She laid out a small square of linen and placed the food between them. Her aunt had told her some details of his past, but she was curious to find out more.
Langdon palmed the apple, and using his knife, sliced the fruit. “Yes. A distant cousin sponsored my father and he eventually inherited the title from him.”
“That must have been difficult.”
“For my parents, yes. I was too young to feel the full impact of being displaced from your home with only the clothes on your back.” Bitterness lined his words and he sipped from the wine bottle.
“Is that why you joined the army?” She lifted a piece of apple and let the tart fruit rest on her tongue. The firelight’s intimacy afforded her an opportunity to learn more about him. It occurred to her that if he bared his secrets, he would expect reciprocation. Other than her secret alias of Zander, her life was an open book.
He tilted his head, lines appearing between his eyebrows. After a brief hesitation, he nodded. “It is why I went to work for Stanton, to fight for the country that welcomed my family in our time of need.”
“You said you were in a dungeon in Spain. What happened?” There was much she didn’t know about him. Since they were trapped for the foreseeable future, she’d gain some insight into his life.
“I asked the wrong person a question, and he accused me of spying.” With a shrug, he snatched a slice of apple. By the way he avoided looking directly at her, he was skirting the facts of the story. She considered herself a perceptive person and despite his ability to hide his true feelings, she was learning to read him well.
Legs crossed under the heavy fabric of her skirt, she splayed her hand over her thigh. The muscles, sore from her earlier activities, protested. “Were you spying?”
With a chuckle, he bit into another piece. “Of course I was, but I am not at liberty to tell you any details.”
She leaned forward, eager to hear more. “Why? Is it an ongoing investigation?”
“You’re too sharp for your own good and I will not answer that very loaded question.” He pointed to the sandwich and held his knife out, the handle to her. “Suffice it to say, I never wish to visit a dungeon voluntarily or not.”
“You can tell me. I promise not to say a word.” She cut the sandwich in half and then quartered it. The knife was hefty with a polished steel blade; the handle carved from bone. It was well-worn in places and there were several nicks in the blade.
“I am shocked that you never explored this hut before,” he said, offering her a sheepish smile.
The twinkle in his eye brought a smile to her lips, and she had a strong urge to kiss him. She leaned in and placed a peck on his mouth. “I am not shocked that you’re intent on changing the subject.”
All traces of amusement faded and for a long moment, he sat in contemplative silence. She waited for him to speak. Patience was not her strongest suit, but she would persevere for him.
“You must understand that I was seventeen when I joined the army and a green youth.” He licked his lips and stared into the fire, his profile to her. “My father had forbidden me to join, but I was strong willed and talked my uncle into sponsoring my commission.”
“I can understand your father’s concern. You were the heir to his title and fortune.”
