She sighed but picked up her tea.
They ate for a while in a surprisingly comfortable silence.
“Lady Samantha?”
Warwick looked at the man who had approached their table. Shorter than him, he had reddish brown hair and a wide smile on his face. Of solid build, he was impeccably dressed in a brown suit jacket and black trousers. He swept off his hat and bowed deeply.
“Mr. Blanchet.” Samantha was smiling again. One of those big ones that filled her face and made her blue eyes come to life. She usually reserved those smiles for family. It annoyed him this man was getting one. “How is it you are here? I’m sorry I did not get a chance to say goodbye.”
“I came over to pick up some supplies that Mr. Doyle ordered from London a few days ago but ran into a friend, so I have spent a few days with him. I was most distressed not to see you before I left.”
“Oh, forgive me. This is Mr. Warwickshire Sinclair. Warwick, this is Mr. Blanchet. He has only recently arrived in Ireland from France but is also to study with Mr. Doyle.” She started coughing.
Warwick handed her the cup of tea.
“Are you unwell, my lady?” The Frenchman sounded devastated.
She waved Blanchet’s words away as she replaced the cup.
“’Tis nothing.”
Warwick did not challenge her to that obvious lie, but he did ask, “You and Mr. Blanchet were studying at the same time?” Warwick rose and shook the man’s hand. Perhaps he’d squeezed too hard, but he wasn’t apologizing for it. Blanchet was looking at Samantha like she was a sweet treat he wanted to devour.
“Only for the last two weeks. We have been learning together. He is better than I—”
“I protest,” Blanchet interrupted her. “Your use of colors is beyond magnificent.”
Warwick only just managed to stop the eye roll as the man gushed all over her. Picking up his fork, he ate instead of growling while the pair chatted enthusiastically about art.
“Well, I must go, as I am behind schedule and need to reach London. But a walk first, I think, as I need to stretch my legs.” Blanchet looked like a puppy about to lose his favorite treat. “I fear studying will not be the same without you, Lady Samantha.”
She waved his words away. “The next students will arrive, and you will have plenty of people asking your advice. Perhaps I shall walk with you?”
“You definitely will not,” Warwick stated. “You are not well enough.”
Blanchet looked ready to weep.
Have some respect for yourself, man.Warwick bit into a potato.
Of course, this had been his main worry while she was away—that someone would take advantage of her. Not that Blanchet appeared capable of taking advantage of anyone. The man was tripping over his tongue in eagerness as he showered Samantha in compliments, which—Warwick looked at her—she was clearly oblivious to.
“I will miss you.” Blanchet bowed deep enough to touch his knee with his nose.
Samantha rose and kissed the man on the cheek.
“P-perhaps I may call upon you in London one day, my lady?”
“Oh, well yes, that would be very nice,” she wheezed.
Warwick noticed her tongue come out and lick her top lip. A sure sign that something was troubling her. She’d done that since he’d known her. He wondered why the prospect of seeing this man again bothered her.
Blanchet bowed again, and Warwick feared he would topple over. Reaching out a hand, he steadied him, as the Frenchman was close to hitting their table. He righted himself and left, throwing a last mournful look at Samantha before disappearing.
“You do realize he’s halfway in love with you, don’t you?” Warwick forked up the last of his ham.
“Don’t be silly. We are simply friends and have only known each other a few weeks.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Warwick lowered his fork to his plate. “You are not that dimwitted. The man could barely speak. He was completely tongue-tied and blushing the entire time. Not to mention tripping over his words.”
