Small favors, she thought to herself. Perhaps now the lord would take his leave.
“Ah, miss, did you care for a spot of honey? I happen to know it comes from a very highly recommended source.” The shopkeeper smiled, offering the little jar that she knew all too well.
“Thank you for offering, but I am quite satisfied with just cream at the moment.”
He nodded, then turned his attention to Lord Penderdale. “Are you in need of anything, my lord?”
“No.” He sighed and helped himself to the seat across from her.
The shopkeeper gave a wary glance to Elizabeth and excused himself.
“No honey? I think it could be used to sweeten you up, no doubt.”
Elizabeth just stared, tempted to rise to the bait, yet wondering if deflecting the comment and extricating herself from the situation as quickly as possible was the wiser of the two choices. She hadn’t invited him to sit with her; he’d invited himself. She glanced down at her scone, half-eaten, and sighed. It was too good to abandon, and she wasn’t going to waste it. Resigned, she lifted a piece to her lips and took a bite.
“Do you know how many bees it takes to make one small spoonful of honey?” she asked after she swallowed, taking the deflection route.
He leaned back in his chair, the portrait of ease, and shrugged. “I have the distinct feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“I suppose it doesn’t surprise me.”
“What, that I don’t know the exact details of any random creature on earth?” he accused.
She lifted a shoulder, taking a sip from her teacup. “You’ve already decided you don’t care, and that is worse than not knowing, or not wanting to know. Not caring. Because it’s beneath you or not important.” She set her teacup down with a soft clink.
Lord Penderdale leaned forward, his eyes constricting. “I repeat my first sentiment. Perhaps you should partake of the honey to gain some sweetness, because if I ‘don’t care,’ as you say, then the judgment placed against you is that you are hiding.”
Her eyes widened. “Hiding? What? What couldI possibly be hiding from, and why would you care anyway? I’m uninteresting, invisible, and far more intelligent than anyone of my sex should be. Therefore, I’m already written off. Why waste the time in judgment?” She leaned back and folded her arms, not caring if she appeared petulant.
Lord Penderdale smiled, his eyes taking on a light of mischief. Her belly grew warm, and though she wanted to turn away, she couldn’t.
“If you would stop your condescension, you might give me a moment to say something revolutionary.”
“Of that, I have high doubts.”
“You have a low opinion of anyone other than yourself.” He shrugged. “But that’s because you’re naive. I have high hopes that life will educate you in ways the walls of Cambridge have neglected to teach you. And one of those lessons I will give.”
“I wait with bated breath,” she whispered. She realized that she’d begun leaning forward, inch by inch, until they were far closer than was socially acceptable. However, backing down wasn’t in her nature; therefore she waited.
“Turns out, I have a sister who is quite like you. And I was the one who oversaw her education, which means…” He leaned forward one inch further. “I just broke the mold you thought I fit in. Hmmm…how does it feel when your judgment is wrong? Bitter? You should have asked for the honey.”
His eyes flickered from hers to a fraction lower. Her lips, she realized, and the traitorous things buzzed as if they were being touched by his gaze.
So rapidly that she blinked and missed it, he leaned back.
A sound distracted her enough that she turned to see the shopkeeper’s wife taking a seat in the chair to the left, no doubt keeping an eye on the two of them at the request of her husband.
Lord Penderdale’s eyes gaze slid over to the woman, then to Elizabeth as a knowing smile marred his unusually handsome features. “I’ll take my leave, Miss Essex. As always, a pleasure.” He stood and made a bow.
With a turn on his heel, he started down the street, paused, and turned back to her.
“Twelve bees. In its lifetime, a bee makes just one-twelfth of a teaspoon of honey.” With a smirk, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Elizabeth leaned back and blew out a frustrated breath.
Because of all the things that she hated in life, being wrong was chief among them.
And she had the sinking suspicion she was indeed wrong about more than one thing.
