She could feel people watching. She tried to pretend she didn’t notice.
His Grace returned to the table with a glass of iced wine, silverware, and a plate with several different selections from the sideboard. He sat across from her. The table was so petite, their knees could touch.
“What of you?” she asked. “Are you not going to eat?”
“I prefer watching you,” he said, picking up the fork and offering it to her.
“I can’t eat with you watching. Here, let us share.”
“A good compromise.” He motioned for a servant to fetch another fork and glass of wine.
Char moved the plate toward him. “What is this?” she asked, pointing to a white meat.
“Lobster. You have never tried it?”
She shook her head. “My aunt and I set a simple table,” she told him.
“Try the lobster. Let me know what you think. I drizzled some melted butter over it. That is the way I like it served.”
She tasted. It was rich, sweet. “I might grow fond of this.”
“I wish that you would,” he said, taking a bite for himself. “It is one of my favorites. I always enjoy Vetter’s table. His cook is one of the best in the city.”
“We cook our own food,” she had to say, sampling the thinly sliced roast beef. “Oh, this is good.”
He cut a bit and tasted it to see if she was right. “So if I was coming to your house for dinner, what would you prepare for me?”
Char laughed. “I like that question, although I don’t know if you will like the answer.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Very well, I make chicken stew and Sarah and Lady Baldwin both agree that I have a knack for it, or else they just want me to make dinner.”
“Who is Sarah?” he asked, spearing a boiled baby potato and popping it in his mouth.
Too late, Char realized what she’d done, and then she decided to tell the truth. “Sarah is my aunt, on my mother’s side.”
“And Lady Baldwin is related to which side of your family?”
What did they say about liars being caught in their own snares?Char tried to remain calm. “She is a good family friend.” That was the truth.
“And you live with her? But not your aunt?”
Char smiled brightly, while her mind scrambled for an answer. “No, Lady Baldwin lives with her daughter although she stays with me—when my aunt is out of town.” Now a lie.
“Why is she out of town?”
This was painful. Char could not meet his eye. She looked down at the plate and moved a pickle around with her fork as if it was of intense interest. “She... has a friend who is not feeling well and she has gone to stay with her.”
“How kind of her.”
“She is a very kind person,” Char agreed. She smiled at him.
He smiled back. “Where does her friend live?”
Char was beginning to hate this conversation. She reached for her wine. “Manchester. Her friend is in Manchester.”
“That is a good distance away. I’m surprised that when your aunt is out of town you don’t stay with your uncle, Lord Dearne.”
