“M’lady?”
“S…certain. I’m verycertainthat I want you to swap your afternoon off for the morning. If that’s what you want. It’s not an order. I just thought you might like to. And perhaps take another morning off, once I’m dressed and if one of the new housemaids can pick up the slack.”
Daisy caught her eye in the mirror, and in a look, Amelia tried to convey what her mouth just would not communicate.
“Thank you, m’lady.”
Chapter15
Up you get, princess.” Benedict wrenched the curtains—new curtains—open. While he hated the fact that the old ones had been replaced, he had to admit her room looked cheerier with the bold yellow velvet.
Yellow was not the color of a London lady wasting away in the country. It was the color of a woman making sunshine out of daisies, or whatever the ridiculous saying was.
Which was good. Amelia was going to need that attitude today.
“You are the worst sort of cad.” Amelia pulled the blankets up over her head.
“I brought breakfast…” He dragged a chair to her bedside and took the cover off the plates he’d placed on her bedside table when he’d snuck in.
Breakfast was hot and delicious.
She flipped over a corner of the quilt—not enough for her to emerge, but enough that she could smell the food. “Is aaac acon?” The thick bedcovers muffled her words.
“I can’t hear you,” he said. He picked up a rasher and began to munch on it. “But your bacon tastes delicious.”
She flung the quilt all the way back and sat up, the sheets pulled over her chest. “You wouldn’t.” Her scowl turned into a perplexed smile when she saw the two plates on the tray.
“What? Can a man not eat breakfast with his wife?” He sat back, his ankle crossed over his knee as he balanced a plate on his thigh.
“This is very familiar of you.” She looked longingly at the food but clearly did not want to release the sheets in order to eat, despite the fact that her nightgown reached right to her chin and down to her wrists, with ridiculous little ruffles on the neckline and sleeves.
“You are trussed up like a lamb for sale. I see more of you when we breakfast at the table.” He waved the fork in front of her, her nose following in its wake.
“Fine.” She dropped the sheets and reached for the plate. The nunlike outfit, so prim and proper a minute ago, shifted as she moved, pulling against her breasts, her nipples outlined.
It showed nothing but suggested everything. He shifted the plate from his thigh to his lap.
“Is this a special occasion?” she asked, oblivious to his distress.
“More an apology in advance.”
She raised an eyebrow as she cut her food. “I’m listening.”
He took a deep breath. Hopefully he wasn’t pushing too far too fast. “The winter festival starts in the village today.”
“Cassandra mentioned it. I believe she’s planning on bobbing for apples.” The tips of her ears turned red, as if she suddenly remembered the insult she’d thrown at him that night in Edward’s study, when her father had bartered her away.
He swallowed back the memory of that day. “Yes…there’s that.” He paused. He’d planned breakfast, he’d planned his entrance, but he’d not actually planned how he was going to break the news.
Amelia took his silence as the end of his point and huffed. “Goodness, you sound like you’re about to be sentenced to the prison hulls. I’m not a total ogre. I have been to a fair before. I’ve even somewhat enjoyed one…” She bit the end off her croissant.
He was just going to have to dive in. “There’s also the town bandy match.”
“Bandy?” She was so focused on her breakfast, she didn’t seem to pick up on the tension that he couldn’t keep from his voice.
“It’s a sporting game, played on the ice.”
“Oh?” She took another bite.
