“You did not ask about your father?”
“I have not yet had a chance. Mrs Dadford was too exercised about serving you an adequate dinner. I told her not to get into a pother about it, but it was no manner of use. I could not compete with the virtues or otherwise of asparagus.”
Lord Lynchmere sighed, sitting on the chair opposite. “I should be content with a hedgehog, providing it was served immediately.”
“Somehow I doubt informing her of your preference would move things along any quicker.”
He burst into laughter. “No, and on second thoughts, I should much dislike my tongue being pricked by spines.”
“I believe pickled spines are a delicacy in some cultures.”
“Are they indeed, Miss Schoolmistress? Is this the kind of science you see fit to impart to your pupils?”
She opened her eyes at him. “Good heavens, had you not heard of it? Surely a man of your wide experience must be familiar with interesting tidbits of the like?”
He held up a hand. “Desist, you little fiend! You are ruining my appetite.”
She smiled, feeling her mood lifting. “Well, you have pulled me out of the doldrums at least.”
His enigmatic look appeared. “Have I? For how long, I wonder?”
She was not obliged to answer this for Mrs Dadford entered to announce dinner, twittering as she led them to the dining parlour opposite where the table was laid with covers for two. A number of covered dishes were set upon the sideboard and a breathless maid, goggling at his lordship, stood waiting to serve.
Felicity interrupted their hostess’s catalogue of the viands on offer. “Are you not going to join us, Mrs Dadford?”
She looked horrified. “Gracious no, dearie! Me, sit down to dinner with a lord? No, no. I’ll take mine on a tray in my little back parlour as I always do.”
“I was hoping to ask you about my father and — and certain other matters.” Felicity cast an imploring look at Lord Lynchmere.
He smiled as he held the chair at one side for her. “Sit down with us, Mrs Dadford. You need not stand on ceremony with me.” The little creature hesitated as Felicity took her seat and he went to one at the head of the table, gesturing to the other side. “Come, ma’am. Have your girl lay a cover for you. We should much prefer to have your company. Miss Temple ought to be chaperoned, don’t you think?”
That did the trick. Mrs Dadford clicked her tongue. “Goodness, I had not thought! Well, I will say it’s not what I’m used to, sir, but I take it kind in you to condescend so far.”
With which, she bustled off to the sideboard and produced a cover and cutlery, setting a place for herself as she urged on the maid. “Start, Margie, there’s a dear. We can’t have the lady and gentlemen waiting for their dinner, now, can we?”
But it was she who insisted upon plying the guests with the proffered dishes, serving up portions while the maid held them to the plates and talking all the time.
“Now it’s a good piece of beef, sir, for we had a cut off the joint yesterday, and these steaks should be tender as lamb… I’ve had Cook cut just the tips off this asparagus so it won’t be stringy —”
At which point, Felicity met Lord Lynchmere’s ironic eye and had to bite back a giggle. He accepted a serving of the tips, along with potatoes steeped in gravy, but held up a hand when Mrs Dadford tried to ply him with a stew of cucumber.
“I am content, ma’am. Pray serve yourself and we may begin upon this excellent repast.”
“I beg you won’t wait for me, my lord. You want to eat it while it’s hot.”
Felicity, a more modest collection on her own plate, picked up her knife and fork. “Then let us begin. The aromas are making me hungry.”
She nodded at Lord Lynchmere and he followed her lead. She was obliged to admit he had charm when it suited him. She was tempted to comment upon it, but refrained. It would not do to let Mrs Dadford see how free and easy they had become with one another. No, had been from the first. The realisation struck her with some force and she cast a surreptitious glance at Lord Lynchmere, who had begun to eat with a gusto that bore out his assertion of the extent of his hunger.
Mrs Dadford could not sit down to her own meal without first filling their glasses with wine. “I sent my lad down to the Plough for it. I do hope it’s fitted for your palate, my lord.”
It was evident Felicity’s tastes were immaterial. Not that she minded. It was both amusing and irritating to see how the creature toadied to his lordship’s rank. A good thing she did not know he was a marquis. She would become perfectly overwhelmed. As it was, she came to the table at last with a substantial plate on her own account and sat down to eat. Lord Lynchmere insisted on her joining them in the wine, and a very few sips served to make her relax a little.
Felicity at once took advantage of it, asking after the inhabitants of the village, which set off the loquacious Mrs Dadford for quite some time. But at length Felicity was able to turn the conversation to the subject closest to her heart.
“How well did you know my papa, Mrs Dadford?”
“Oh, poor dear Mr Temple!” The creature’s eyes were instantly clouded. She swallowed the food in her mouth and leaned in. “Dreadful, it was! None of us could believe it. Such a vivacious young man, was Mr Temple. So full of life and always ready with a jolly word. Everyone hereabouts adored him, dearie, that I can swear to.”
