Pride allowed her to hide the pain of her shattered hopes. Hopes that she’d been foolish to have in the first place and even more foolish to share. She walked stiffly back to the farmhouse, willing herself not to run or cry, wishing she wasn’t so blooming aware of Knight’s presence behind her.
10
That night,Fancy had trouble finding sleep. She and Mrs. Taylor shared the single bedchamber in the farmhouse, but she couldn’t blame the good matron’s snoring for her restlessness. As she listened to her roommate’s deep slumber, she tossed and turned on her own straw pallet because she could not stop thinking about Knight.
Did I imagine that near-kiss moment between us? Why is ’e so jaded about love? What ’appened to ’im in the past?
At dawn, she rose with a surge of unexpected energy and decided to put it to good use in the kitchen. Between what the Taylors had brought and the food supplies that Bea had insisted the Sheridans take with them, Fancy had plenty to work with. She made a hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and stewed beans, even doing a bit of baking.
The Taylors and her family exclaimed over the food. She waited for Knight to emerge, and when he didn’t by mid-morning, she decided to go to him. She didn’t want to break the fragile filaments of friendship that the last week had woven between them. After this journey ended, they would part ways, and she wanted their memories of each other to be good.
She found Knight at his carriage, sitting at a table while his valet poured his tea. He stood when she approached. She didn’t know how his valet did it, but Knight looked as if he’d risen from a night in a palace rather than camped out in the middle of a field. His cravat had a crisp knot, and he was wearing the charcoal-grey jacket he’d once lent her. She cast a surreptitious glance at his left sleeve; sure enough, his valet had replaced the gold button that, at this very moment, was snug in the pocket of her skirts.
“Good morning, Fancy,” Knight said pleasantly.
His tone held no hint that anything unusual had happened between them the night before. And perhaps nothing had. Perhaps that moment had been a product of her imagination and hopeless yearning.
Count yourself lucky,she told herself.’E ain’t ’olding your rude departure last night against you. Follow ’is lead and keep everything friendly-like.
She set the plate on the table. “I made breakfast and thought you might be wanting some.”
“Thank you,” he said politely.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she removed a napkin-wrapped bundle and held it out to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Open it, and you’ll see.”
He unfolded the rough napkin to reveal the stack of three golden pastries shaped like disks. The slashes she’d made in the buttery tops showed off the dark and moist currant-filled interior.
When he looked up, there was a smile in his eyes. “You baked Eccles cakes?”
“Or, as we Sheridans like to call them,squashed fly cakes,” she said with a grin.
His brows rose, a silent question.
“When Tommy was small, Liam told ’im that Eccles cakes were filled with ground-up flies. For years, the rest o’ the family wondered why Tommy refused to eat them.”
Knight’s lips twitched. “And Liam, out of the goodness of his heart, volunteered to eat Tommy’s share?”
“Clearly, you know my brothers,” Fancy said. “Anyway, the cakes are for your tea, but I brought you some now in case my brothers got to them first.”
Instead of waiting for tea, Knight lifted a pastry to his mouth. His white teeth sank into the cake, buttery flakes drifting to the ground. He chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. She watched in surprise as he finished the pastries in rapid succession.
“You like Eccles cakes, I take?” she said, bemused.
He wiped his mouth with the napkin.
“I like sweets in general,” he admitted. “And your delectable Eccles cakes in particular.”
At the compliment, her tummy turned as gooey as the filling of the cakes when she’d pulled them from the oven.
“I’ll make more,” she offered breathlessly.
He shook his head, the smile still lurking in his eyes. “Trying to fatten me up, are you?”
She stared at his long, hard, virile physique. “You couldn’t be anything but perfect.”
