“I assure you in another fifteen minutes, there will be eggs and bacon, sausage and mushrooms, and some freshly baked items. As you tasted last night, they have a superior cook.”
“They do,” but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Is it too forward to tell you I have missed you?”
He watched her cheeks grow a sweet shade of pink.
“That’s kind of you. I thought I was a nuisance at best, although a useful one.”
He grinned. “That’s how it was at the beginning, but as I said yesterday, I think of you as a friend now.”
“Good, because as a friend, I have decided to help you in whatever way I can. To that end, I shall return with you to London to soothe my father. Hopefully, at the Season’s end, Miss Waltham will have decided to cease her nonsensical claims and your brandy will be released from bondage.”
The weight on Philip’s shoulders lifted. As he had chosen the chair beside her, she was in easy reach. He could not refrain from taking her hand, drawing her around to face him, and then pulling all of her into an awkward embrace with the table digging into his side.
As soon as the familiar, floral scent of her hit his nostrils, he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She responded with pressure, kissing him in return, making his heart beat faster, even more insistently than his lower regions pulsed, which was unusual. Nibbling her lower lip, he wished they were alone. But quickly coming to his senses, he broke off the kiss.
He felt elated and strangely complete, even though all they had done was a rather chaste kiss. They grinned at each other, and he reached for the toasted bread without buttering it, taking a bite and letting crumbs go everywhere, over the plate, the tablecloth, even on his clothing.
She giggled adorably, and he might have kissed her again if her aunt hadn’t entered, followed by the maid carrying the first of three trays to follow, all containing the promised hot breakfast. Philip rose to his feet and remained there as Helen entered and, lastly, Peter who was pushed by his father.
Before he could think better of it, Philip said, “I have seen men with terrible wounds heal enough to get around with a crutch. Have you considered relinquishing your Bath-chair to strengthen your limbs?”
The other three family members glanced at one another, but Peter seemed unaffected and certainly not insulted.
“Not that I mean to overstep or to pry,” Philip added quickly. Perhaps there was more wrong with the young man than he knew.
“No,” Peter answered, “you have not. I appreciate that you speak from experience and with concern. I have a cane, but I spend more time falling with it than walking.”
“As I said, perhaps a crutch,” Philip suggested.
Peter shuddered. “It is the symbol of a beggar,” he pointed out.
“Even in the short time I have been here, I know you to be anything but. If you are willing and if there is a capable carpenter or better yet, a joiner, I would be happy to sketch out the best type of crutch that our soldiers use. Do you have problems with both legs?”
“I do, but to a lesser degree on my left.”
“Still,” Philip considered, “you could start with two. You have a strong upper body and have kept your arm muscles healthy. Using crutches, you would be able to do stairs, as well.”
Silence met his last words, but after filling his plate, Peter said, “Thank you, Lord Mercer. I would appreciate seeing your drawing.”
“We have very good joiner in the village,” Miranda’s uncle chimed in.
Philip also thought the young man should regain his freedom to travel by riding a horse once again, but he would suggest that in private in case it was too traumatic a notion. It was not terribly difficult to fasten a strap to the saddle that would hold a crutch, too.
Satisfied he had done some good, Philip tucked in to his breakfast, pleasantly surprised when Miranda readily announced to her family she had agreed to accompany him back to London.
“Of course, we must wait until Aunt Lucinda returns,” she said.
Aunt Lucinda?
“Mrs. Cumbersome!” he blurted as it dawned on him. “I recall now your father said she had accompanied you. Where is that good woman?” Frankly, he’d forgotten about her existence entirely.
“Gone to visit friends, a mere day’s ride away,” Miranda said. “We expect her back in two days. Three at the most. If you wish to go on ahead to London, that will not offend me. If you wish me to go with you, then we must wait for my father’s sister.”
“I can wait,” Philip said, feeling decidedly cheerful. He liked this family and their food, and now he had a task to keep him busy with the unfortunate Peter. And then there was the company of Miranda.
It seemed finally all was going well.
