“Something tells me you’re not so fond of apple pie yourself,” Anthony prodded.
She gave him a wary look, held silent for a moment and then said, “To be honest, I’ve grown tired of the flavor. I enjoy variety in my food, you see, but this past year Mama has been particularly fond of serving apple pie for Sunday tea.”
“I’m more partial to blueberry myself,” Anthony confided. “Or something entirely different, like chocolate—I must admit I’m very fond of chocolate.”
Miss Chilcott finally relaxed and chuckled. “It appears I’ve just discovered one of your indulgences. Am I right?”
“I suppose so,” he said.
“What else do you enjoy, Your Grace, besides eating chocolates?”
Talking to you ... better yet, kissing you.
“Many things, especially horseback riding, the company of friends, the opera—”
“The opera?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been myself, but it’s always been my understanding that gentlemen went only for the sake of accompanying the ladies—not because they actuallywantedto.”
Anthony smiled. “I think it’s an acquired taste—you either like it or you don’t. Believe me, Miss Chilcott, I’ve seen many sleepy-eyed ladies at the opera as well. One mustn’t generalize.”
“No, of course not,” she agreed.
Eyeing her, he took in the soft slope of her nose, her high cheekbones flushed a delightful shade of pink, and her deep, rosy lips. A lock of hair had torn itself free from its fastening and was presently blowing across her cheek, tempting Anthony to pull it away and tuck it behind her ear. He resisted the urge and asked instead, “What are your enjoyments, Miss Chilcott?”
She tilted her head to look at him. “As you already know, I love to read.” Her eyebrows rose a little as she added, “But if you want me to be more specific, thenRomeo and Julietis my favorite—I know it by heart.”
“So you’re a romantic by nature,” Anthony said and was rewarded with a smile.
“Undoubtedly, though it’s not always the most beneficial trait to have. I often wish I were more practically inclined.”
“You think life would be easier then?”
She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “I have no doubt that it would. Romantics have a bad habit of dreaming of things they cannot have and later of what might have been had things been different.”
“And what are your dreams, Miss Chilcott?” He knew he was being bold, but he couldn’t help himself—it was too tempting.
She breathed deeply, her features tightening around the edges, and he knew that she was aiming for indifference. Shaking her head, she said, “That,Your Grace, is irrelevant.” And then, as if to deter him from pressing the matter further, she smiled brightly and added, “Did I mention that I can split an apple in half by twisting it?”
“Really?”
He must have sounded very dubious, for her smile turned to one of mischief. “You don’t believe me,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“I’ve just never seen anyone do something like that before, and frankly, it does sound a bit unlikely.”
Her laughter went straight to his heart, urging it to beat faster. “It has nothing to do with strength, you know, but rather with skill.”
“The skill of picking an apple soft enough, no doubt,” Anthony muttered.
She stopped walking, eyes narrowing. “Are you suggesting I’m a charlatan?”
“Not at all, Miss Chilcott—I wouldn’t dare.” But the memory of her deception at the ball hung in the air around them, and he knew that she had to be just as aware of it as he.
They continued on in silence for a few more minutes when she suddenly stopped, turned toward him and said, most seriously, “I know you came to my house hoping to find Miss Smith. I’m very sorry that you didn’t.”
Anthony steeled himself for a moment. Did she really wish to go on pretending that he didn’t know thatshewas Miss Smith? It was absurd to his way of thinking, and yet he found himself submitting to her game. “I couldn’t agree more, for I felt a true connection with her ... as if we were meant to be together no matter what, but she obviously didn’t agree, or she wouldn’t have run off the way she did.”
