“She knows that I am a solicitor? Does she think I am an earl like Kit?”
“Not at all. She merely wishes me to be happy. It is not so complicated as all that.”
Such a stance went against everything I had ever known about the beau monde. Oh, there was the occasional member of thetonwho was pleasant enough. But that certainly did not extend to courting a member of their family. Adriane’s family had been landed gentry, not even titled. It hadn’t stopped her father from slamming the door in my face at the mere mention of a courtship. Celine’s mother could not be encouraging this.
“There are no distant uncles to leave me their fortune. No titles to be found anywhere.”
“I promise I’ve not misunderstood this. Please, would you join us for dinner? It would mean a great deal to us both.”
Her lower lip dipped out in the slightest pout and I was finished. “Of course, if it would make you happy.” Though, perhaps I could take up drinking before the evening arrived.
“It would, very much. Thank you. How are you feeling? You received a hit or two.”
“My ribs are a bit sore, nothing terribly painful.”
“I am glad of it.”
The butler arrived with a tea tray in hand and placed it on the mahogany table in front of us.
“Thank you. Please have these brought to my rooms?” She handed him the flowers from beside her. He bowed, overly formal, and tossed a warning glare in my direction before sweeping out the door. “Oh, Bouvier. Would you be a dear and close the door, please?”
“Madame?”
“The door, if you please.”
The glare turned from disapproving to murderous. It was in the eyebrows, it had to be… But he bowed in acknowledgment and shut the door behind him with a decisive, judgmental click.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said. “Sometimes I just like to make his eye twitch.” Her laugh joined mine, bright and easy. “How do you take your tea?”
“However you take it is fine. I’m not particular.”
She studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s just tea, William.”
With a heavy sigh I answered, “Three sugars and a splash.”
“Was that so difficult?” She plopped the sugars into the delicate cup one at a time before tipping the perfect amount ofmilk, and then making her own. Two sugars and a healthy pour. We would go through far too much sugar if we?—
Too fast, much too fast.
“It’s good, thank you.” I spoke before taking a sip and she raised a brow. Rather than commenting, she turned to the plate of tarts.
“Which do you prefer?”
“Hudson’s?”
“Of course. Which tart would you like?”
“It’s no matter.”
“There are plenty of all the flavors. Pick one.”
“Blackberry, please.” She settled it on the plate before taking a lemon one. That was the one she chose in the office that day as well.Lemon, remember lemon.
“I know what you’re doing. You should know, it won’t work on me.”
I was doing something? “I don’t know what you mean?”
