Henry looked to Amity. “Do they know about the chocolate you made for me?”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“May I tell them?” he asked, watching Mr. Cole frown. Henry felt a little sorry for the man, but he intended to make him superfluous and return to London triumphant, after securing both Amity’s hand and her heart.
When she shrugged delicately, he turned to the rest of the room. “Miss Rare-Foure knew of my deep enjoyment of coffee, and at my party, she brought a tin of chocolates that were, without question, the best thing I’ve ever tasted, meaning no disrespect to your cook tonight.”
“Coffee and chocolate?” her father asked, leaning forward. He nodded thoughtfully and looked at his eldest daughter. “I might like to try that.”
“Father,” she exclaimed, “you don’t even like coffee.”
“True, but that’s because it tastes to me like something that should be in my pipe not in my cup.”
“Ah, your coffee was boiled, I would warrant, and thus, the flavor was scorched,” Henry told him. “I can show your cook how to make it perfectly, and you might enjoy it. Regardless, blended with chocolate, it is divine.”
“I like coffee,” Mr. Cole muttered, and Amity turned to him with a smile.
“I didn’t know,” she confessed. Henry felt his chest swell. He was winning inch by inch.
After a recitation from the middle sister, the disapproving, scowling one, and an enjoyable few rounds of Happy Families, a card game Henry had never played before but which he found to be jolly good fun, it was time for bed. As customary, even at his own country home, everyone turned in hours earlier than when in London.
“I’ll show you to your room, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Rare-Foure.
Henry had no choice but to retire along with the family. After saying his good-nights, when he looked back, to his consternation, he noticed the newly engaged couple was being given time alone.
Frowning, he could think of no way to separate them, which put him in a foul mood even though he had succeeded in evicting the lawyer from the comfortable guest room. It was a cheerful chamber, and he could find no fault with the Rare-Foure’s hospitality. His overnight bag had been placed at the foot of the bed, and there was a small fire crackling in the fireplace.
Nevertheless, he was out of sorts. Wrenching off the too-tight slippers that had been vexing him all evening, though he would never have shown it, he hurled them at the wall with frustration. Hopefully, someone would have cleaned his boots by morning.
Beginning to undress, he found himself missing his valet. It had been shortsighted of him not to bring the indispensable man, and Henry hoped he wouldn’t look too scruffy in the morning.
***
HENRY GOT UP FRIGHTFULLYearly by Town standards, but he hadn’t pulled his drapes — or rather, no one had done it for him — and the sun was coming straight in his window to shine upon the pillows and his face.
Rising with a yawn, he stood naked in front of the mirror hanging over the dressing table. A washing area had been set up, with a bowl and pitcher of water, which he poured and used to wash his face and under his arms. Afterward, he dressed in the fresh clothing he’d allowed to wrinkle in his bag all the prior day and night. Tucking in his rumpled shirt, he gave himself a stern inspection in the looking glass.
Normally, his current appearance would not do at all — he looked as if he’d slept in his clothing. All the same, he’d noticed how casually Mr. Foure and the lawyer were clothed the previous day and decided his present state would suffice. In other words, he had no choice.
After shaving at the wash station, belatedly realizing he should have done sobeforedressing, Henry combed his hair and was ready to face another day of winning over Amity Rare-Foure. First, he needed his boots and a cup of coffee. Upon opening his bedroom door, he found the former, clean and shining. He could only hope the cook had some of the latter in her pantry.
She did. They were old beans, which had been stored dry and, thus, without a hint of mold. He let her grind them, and he did the rest. It was quite an interesting adventure, to be in the Rare-Foures’ country kitchen with their cook, who’d practically fainted when he strolled into her domain. Again.
The maid who once sat in his drawing room as chaperone for Amity entered next, and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. After a few minutes, however, both women got quite used to him. He managed to teach the cook how to prepare coffee properly and to his satisfaction, even while she prepared eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, and potatoes.
“Will Mr. Foure be up and ready to taste this?” Henry asked.
“I believe the whole family is up,” the maid said, stirring the porridge, before starting to place full platters onto a tray. “Everyone has gathered in the dining room, Your Grace.”
“Good,” Henry said, then he eyed what she hefted into her arms. “Allow me,” he said, taking it from her as she gasped.
“Oh, no, Your Grace. You mustn’t.”
“Why mustn’t I? I am as strong as you, am I not? If you bring in the coffee service, and Cook carries the porridge, we will have managed everything.”
Thus, for the first time in his life, Henry walked into a full dining room with the servantsandhe was being useful. The reaction was priceless. Mr. Foure jumped to his feet and started laughing wholeheartedly, and Henry knew the man was definitely a good egg.
Mrs. Rare-Foure shook her head as if they were all ruined. Amity jumped to her feet with her father, but seeing Henry was not in any way put out by performing such a duty, she smiled at him. Her sisters laughed with delight. Mr. Cole alone looked sour.
