“I wasn’t asking you to make it for me. I was asking if you’d like to join me.”
He was closer to her now, and his proximity changed the air in the foyer. It caused her nerves to stand up in attention.
“Tea?” He tilted his head, some of that teasing light back in his eyes.
“Tea is always a good idea,” she said.
“It can’t hurt.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him. “Let’s see if Cook left some water on the stove, then.”
Violet nodded and when he took the taper from her, she followed him through the corridor.
Together, they descended the stairs to the kitchen, where embers still glowed in the stove. Cook had indeed left a pot sitting on the hot surface.
“You sit.” She indicated one of the wooden chairs at the work table in the middle of the room.
Feeling comfortable with having something to do, she easily located two cups and the box of tea. This wasn’t the first time she’d come down to the kitchen late at night. She refused to wake a servant to do something she could easily do for herself.
Mr. Cockfield made himself comfortable, watching her.
“You must be proud to have a brother who serves.” Violet wondered if he might want to talk about his concerns.
“He’s a Lord Major,” he said.
Violet blinked. That wasn’t... “Surely not a Lord Major?”
Mr. Cockfield straightened. “Of course not. Good Lord, he’s a major.”
“Ah…” She smiled. “But a major. That is, indeed, impressive.” Only the bravest and most talented of enlisted men could ever achieve such a rank.
“Weak or strong?” she asked as she poured the water into the teapot and then added the tea.
“Stronger, if you don’t mind. No cream or sugar.”
“That’s how I like it too. Strong, that is, but with sugar. But, of course, you know that.”
Violet smoothed her hands down her dressing gown, stupidly wishing she had a prettier one, while she waited for the tea to steep.
“Did my return wake you?” he asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.” She shouldn’t have come downstairs knowing they’d be alone. But there was something about him…
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, his elbows on the table.
“What keeps you awake, Miss Faraday?” The kitchen suddenly felt much smaller than it had a moment before. She shouldn’t have taken the seat beside him.
He was the butler.
And she, a very proper lady.
He reached out with his good hand, pinching the end of one of her long braids. “I like your hair—the color.” He was staring at the tip as though he’d never seen brown hair before.
Was he going to kiss her while they waited for the tea to steep? And why couldn’t she bring herself to move away from him?
He dropped the braid and jerked away. “It should be ready.” He was on his feet, going to pour the tea, but having the use of only one hand, faltered. “Blasted thing,” he grumbled to himself.
Violet rose as well and helped him filter the tea leaves.
Bringing the two of them closer to one another than they’d been before.
