There was time for nothing but attempting to unravel the plethora of offers proceeding from the garrulous dame’s mouth. A piled plate before her, Felicity began upon her repast, accompanied by Mrs Dadford’s monologue as, in addition to food, she plied her guests with news of the likely weather for the day and advice about the proposed visit to Mrs Kimble.
“Young Cissy gets her up, but it’s no manner of use going before ten o’clock as Nan won’t be fit to receive you. That’s why I didn’t wake you too early, dearie, for you’ll be able to pop over there just as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast.”
Felicity replied suitably in between disposing of as much as she could of the bacon and scrambled eggs on her plate. The marquis, contributing nothing to the conversation beyond a nod here and there, worked his way steadily through a veritable mountain of food, but even he was obliged to leave some.
At a moment when Mrs Dadford was out of the room, he set down his fork and sat back, blowing out his cheeks. “What we need is a dog under the table to whom we could surreptitiously slip pieces of ham and bacon.”
Felicity eyed the remains on his plate. “Why in the world did you accept so much?”
He gave her an unloving look. “I am following your lead. We must not insult Mrs Dadford’s generosity, remember?”
Felicity broke into laughter. “I did not mean for you to stuff yourself to death.”
He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Now I know how the pig feels. And it’s your fault.”
“I won’t be blamed. Did I say you must let her pile up your plate?”
He threw her a vengeful look. “It is of no use to cavil. I never eat such a breakfast as a rule and if you had not bleated about insults, I should not have dreamed of eating as much.”
Amused, and considerably surprised, she eyed him with interest. “I am astonished you allowed yourself to be swayed by any words of mine.”
His enigmatic look appeared. “It must be the schoolmistress in you.”
“Affecting you? Ridiculous.”
A faint smile was all she got by that. He picked up the pot. “More coffee?”
“I doubt I have room.”
Raoul nodded towards the basket of rolls. “You’d better have at least one of those or Mrs Dadford will be feeding it to you herself.”
“Lord, how right you are! I will have more coffee, if you please.” She seized a roll and began to butter it as he refilled her cup. He picked up the jam pot and set it nearer to her. Felicity glanced up. “Are you not having one?”
“No, Miss Schoolmistress, I am not. I have done my share.”
She giggled, feeling absurdly pleased by the nonsensical exchange.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You appear to have woken a new woman, Felicity.”
“I have. It’s most odd, but the way Mrs Dadford cossets me has made me feel like a girl again.”
His wry look appeared. “You are scarcely more than a girl in any event, though I admit you have acquired a certain air of maturity.”
“You think it spurious?”
“No. I believe the rigours of your existence have prematurely aged you. A female of your years ought to be on the threshold of the bloom of life.”
Unexpectedly touched, Felicity eyed him, her roll forgotten in her fingers. He drank his coffee, apparently unaware of her scrutiny. Such an odd mixture of understanding and cynicism in him. His words replayed in her head and she found a flaw. “If I am to judge by the expectations of my pupils, at my age I ought rather to be on the threshold of triumphantly producing an heir for a husband.”
To her consternation, Raoul choked on his coffee, setting down the cup and spluttering as he coughed, putting his napkin to his mouth.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon! Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right, you wretch?”
His voice had turned rough and it was a moment or two before he was sufficiently recovered to accept the water Felicity hastily poured into a glass from a jug on the sideboard and pressed into his hand. He took a few sips, grimaced and set the glass down. Felicity retook her seat and met the violence of his reproachful stare with raised brows.
“It is of no use to glare at me. What in the world was there in what I said to send you into a frenzy?”
