Maddie looked torn. “Do you think that’s wise? People might wonder about us.”
She was right. It was unwise. But he didn’t like to think of them scraping together a meal while he dined on oysters and a plump bird with all the trimmings. “Shall we chance it? I’ll be gone tomorrow. You’re the new tenants of Lilybrook Cottage. They’ll soon have little to gossip about.”
She grinned. “I am weak. I cannot resist your invitation.” She put a hand on her stomach, drawing his eyes to the swell of her breasts. “And longing for a decent meal.”
As if she sensed his thoughts, with an indrawn breath, she ducked her head over the daisy she’d picked.
“Have you ever tested a theory with a daisy?” He nodded toward the flower she held. “My sister used to when she imaged herself in love with someone.”
Maddie laughed and turned the stem in her fingers. “I remember my friends doing it.”
“Will you put it to the test?”
“I don’t believe in such things.” She threw the daisy away.
“Coward,” he murmured. But that only drew another laugh. Was he a crass fool to want to draw her down on the grass and enfold her in his arms? He took himself to task as he strolled beside her along the path. Minutes passed. The drawn-out silences between them seemed to speak louder than their words. Her cheeks had become flushed. Did she feel a burgeoning passion, as he did?
The path led them back to the cottage, and whatever magic the garden held for him dissipated as reality rushed in. She was attracted to him. A man recognized the sensual language between a man and a woman. Those small, subtle movements when he touched her. The way her gaze roamed his face. How she tilted her head when she laughed. The softening of her expression when she teased him. But none of that meant anything if she was loath to marry him. It spoke more to what she thought of him as a prospective husband. And her lackluster response to his proposal did little to make him sure of her answer.
They entered the parlor, where Jane, on her knees before the fireplace, encouraged the kindling to burst into life. The nights were cool here and next winter would be bitter. “I must hire a cook,” Hart said to push away the nagging worry that he might be left to seek a bride among the debutantes in London when he had made up his mind to marry Maddie.
“No, please don’t. I plan to try my hand at preparing the meals.” Maddie nodded toward her maid. “Jane can be my guinea pig. You don’t mind, do you, Jane?”
Jane smiled over her shoulder. “I cooked for my mum when she was under the weather.”
“Well, there you are,” Maddie said with a satisfied glance at him. “We have two cooks.”
Amused, he raised an eyebrow. “What do they say about too many cooks?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and then laughed. “Be warned. I might cook dinner for you when you return.”
And he would eat every bite even if it was burned to a crisp, he thought, admiring how game she was.
*
When Hart leftMaddie to check on the horses, she turned her attention to what to wear tonight. The gown she wore had dusty skirts and a little dirt on the hem. She had only brought two gowns suitable for daytime and travel, plus her spring green with the satin sash and the lace, which would have to do. It was far from her best. She sighed, wishing she’d thought to pack her lavender gown, but as it was, she’d crammed in too much. It would have been wiser to refuse the dinner invitation, but Hart’s decisiveness made it impossible. Although he never tried to coerce her, he often got his way. While it annoyed her, she came to agree with him. If she was honest, she wanted to dine with him, and not just because she was hungry. She enjoyed his company. He made her laugh, which was something she had not done for a very long time. Something passed between them while they walked in the garden. Something unspoken, a feeling, which grew stronger every time she saw him. Did he become too important to her? She feared her ability to know what was right for her would be lost in the intensity of his blue eyes.
Maddie went back inside to Jane, who, having successfully got the fire going, was now sweeping the upper landing. “We are to dine at the inn tonight.” Maddie took down the green dress hanging on a hook. It had suffered being crammed into her bag. “Is it possible to steam the creases out of this dress?”
Jane took it from her and shook it out. “I think so. I’ll put the kettle on. What a pity I didn’t bring the hot iron.”
Maddie laughed. “And haul it all the way on the stage?”
As they climbed the steps of the old stone inn, delicious aromas wafted out, promising a good meal. Inside was warm and inviting, the tables arranged around a crackling fire. This was the first time Maddie had dined with Hart. He had changed into a dark blue coat, his cravat crisply tied, and looked very handsome, his dark hair burnished by candlelight. When he raised his glass of wine to her in a silent toast, she responded with a smile. As if they’d shared a secret. His gaze took in her simple gown, cut low over her bosom where the trim of lace failed to conceal her decolletage. Then he raised his eyes to hers, and her heart skipped a beat. He had never looked at her quite that way before. It made her toes curl. Did he judge her as a prospective bride? Was that approval? She was hardly at her best, although Jane had performed miracles with the gown and arranged her hair nicely and Maddie had tucked a yellow primrose into the curls.
This was hardly an intimate dinner for two with Jane seated at the table. Did she want to be alone with him? Really alone? Maddie wondered what it would be like for him to take her in his arms and kiss her, to make love to her. She rubbed her arms in response to the frisson of sensation rushing through her body.
“You’re warm enough?” Hart asked.
She nodded, wanting to touch her hot cheeks. Why must a flush always give her away? She was probably the same color as the coals burning brightly in the fireplace.
The proprietor brought their meals to the table, placing the plates before them with a flourish. He hovered, eager to please, until Hart sent him away for a bottle of wine.
Suddenly very hungry, Maddie gave herself up to enjoying the roasted meat and vegetables. Every bite, heaven. She couldn’t rely on poor Jane to cook for them, as well as the rest of the tasks she performed so cheerfully. But to employ a cook and have them bustling about in the tiny kitchen and sleeping in the narrow servant’s room at the back of the house would intrude on their peace. And right now, Maddie valued peace, but knew she would soon yearn for excitement, to see more of the world, and she hoped Hart would be there. But in what capacity, lover, or friend? She had never been so indecisive, so unsure. She’d always known her own mind. But her criterion for marriage was love and being able to trust one’s partner, as it always had been, and remembering her cousin’s letters, she was grateful for the month he had given her to decide.
After a delicious almond cream pudding, Hart drove them back to the cottage and Jane went inside, leaving them alone on the drive.
“Thank you for dinner.” Dismayed, Maddie put her fingers to her lips. “I am always thanking you, Hart. You’ve done so much for me. One day, I hope to repay you in some fashion for your kindness.” She realized the connotations of her remark and groaned inwardly.
