“Well, then,” she bit down on her lip, “I suppose that it would demand variety, for one. Or if not variety, then it would contain foods from far-off lands, perhaps.”
Simon burst out laughing, startling Rachel. Her cheeks began to heat. Had she said something wrong?
“I was not aware I said something humorous,” she replied, a bit sourly.
“No, no. I am just…” His dark eyes flitted towards her. “Your reasoning is amusing.”
“It seems perfectly fine to me,” she retorted, growing defensive now.
“Right, so…” he said, clearing out the last remnants of his laughter, “in your view, you think that the same breakfast I am having now would be refined if I had, say, gotten the bread from Paris and the eggs from the countryside?”
When he put it that way, Rachel could not help but feel a little bit silly.
“Well, I-I suppose,” she said, softly.
He chuckled again. “Well, then, I am sorry to disappoint you on that front. I would much rather prefer the convenience of what is available to me than keeping up appearances as you suggest.”
“I only asked a simple question,” Rachel defended herself. “One that demanded a simple answer.”
He seemed incapable of delivering one. She had not even considered the complications that he had brought up.
His gaze bore into hers again. “And I answered your question. I do not have preferences. Do you?”
“Isn’t there any food you enjoy more than anything else?” she pushed, knowing it was likely futile.
She had fully expected him to get irritated by her persistence. But there was a glint in his eyes that made her believe that he perhaps found the whole thing a bit endearing instead.
“Are you adamant on answering my question with another one of your own?” he said, teasingly.
“Yes, when the situation demands it, Your Grace,” she argued. “Only in critical moments, might I add.”
Simon’s fork paused mid-air, and he gave her a pointed look, amused again by her dramatics. “You consider discovering my breakfast preferences to be a critical moment?”
“I suppose I do,” Rachel smiled. It was a small thing, but anything to get to know him more. “It matters to me.”
“Fine,” he sighed loudly. “Roast pheasant. There. Are you satisfied?”
A grin spread across her features.
“Yes, very much so. Now, if you had answered like that at the outset, we would not have needed to have this back and forth. For someone who values practicality above all else, you have a remarkable talent for prolonging conversations unnecessarily,” she teased.
Simon’s lips twitched, though he quickly reverted his expression to a neutral one. “Are you done with your questioning?”
She tapped her chin thoughtfully, realizing that she rather enjoyed his begrudging participation.Not in the least.“Do you have a favorite color?”
“Why do I feel as though I am a schoolboy again, being questioned by my classmates?” The corners of his mouth tugged into a smirk.
“I am not your classmate, Your Grace. I am your wife,” she reminded him gently. “Lest you forget.”
“You do not spare a single chance to remind me, no,” he mused. “Green.”
Rachel’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Why, Your Grace, I had no idea you were so fond of me.”
She did not know where the confidence had sprung up from. In fact, she never knew where it came from when it concerned him. Half the time, she was worried about embarrassing herself in front of him, and yet when he was actually there in front of her, it was as though something else possessed her entirely.
Even Simon looked momentarily caught off guard with confusion, but then caught on to what she meant. She realised that she quite liked it when she was able to get such a reaction out of him.
It gave her the confirmation that he was not the only one with the ability to rattle her slightly. His gaze flicked to her, taking in her green eyes.
