Yes, this was better—if only she could convince her heart of that. She let herself out of her chamber and trudged down the stairs to take her evening meal alone, again.
Still, she nursed a fingernail’s clipping of hope that he might deign to join her that she’d taken care with her appearance, wearing her favorite lavender silk evening gown. It was new, fashioned by Amelia and Gwen’s modiste, Madame Eloise, and, in keeping with all of the gowns produced by the fashionable dressmaker, boasted a far lower bodice than most of her others.
She wasn’t a prude. She simply didn’t like to draw attention to her too-ample bosom, especially not with the likes of Mr. Mealy ever-hovering.
However, she’d learned never to question Madame Eloise’s designs.
She reached the entryway of the dining room—and froze.
Teddy stood, back to the entryway, hands clasped behind him, gazing out the open sash windows at the ocean view below. A steady breeze riffled her skirts and carried the elusive scent of his aftershave, teasing her nostrils and causing her stomach to shiver with pleasure.
“Ah,” he said, executing a languid pivot to face her. A dazzling smile spread over his handsome face, seemingly at the sight of her. “Good evening, darling. I hope you don’t mind company?”
Her mouth opened and closed and opened again before she found her voice, to her utter mortification. “I…of course not. I’m only surprised, having not seen you since…that is, you…er…did not come down last night for supper. I thought perhaps you’d taken ill.”
“Ill? No, not at all.” He strolled toward the table, his gaze drifting over her in lazy perusal.
Gooseflesh sprouted over her arms and legs.
Pausing behind the chair in which she typically sat since his arrival,he pulled it out and waited.
She moved forward on shaky legs.
“I apologize for not sending word,” he said as he pushed in her chair. “Last night, I got caught up in my sketches and opted to eat in my chamber.”
“I see. Well, I’m glad to hear you weren’t unwell.”
“No, indeed.” He took his seat.
“Teddy, about yesterday—”
He held up a hand, palm out, cutting her off mid-sentence. “No need to say another word about it.”
“There isn’t?”
“No. I quite understand.”
“You…do?”
“Ah. Here’s dinner now—and Cook’s made sure to include your favorite food.”
She giggled, noting the preponderance of butter in tonight’s dishes as Peggy and Mr. Danvers poured wine and laid out the selectionsa la française—clear, spring vegetable soup, trout in an herb butter sauce, asparagus dressed with butter, and, of course, warm rolls accompanied with a side of salted butter.
The servants departed and Teddy and she commenced eating.
“You said you got caught up in a particular sketch last evening. Have you recovered more memories, then?”
He picked up his wine, and sipped. “I’m not sure.”
“May I ask after the subject of your sketch?”
He slanted her a glance. “A woman, seated across from me in a skiff. Based on the story you told me, I assume the woman is you, but, your face is hidden behind one of those fancy parasols. I say, are you quite all right?”
Sputtering claret, she attempted an affirmative reply that came out more of a wheeze, thanks to her having inhaled it on a gasp. She really needed to have a care when sipping during conversations with Teddy.She never knew when he might say something shocking—in this instance, the woman behind the parasol wasnother.
She was ever so tired of lying to him.
When she had her breathing back in hand she straightened and dabbed her lips with her serviette, then deliberately changed the subject. “I have some news to share.”
