“I agree.” Her response was swift, as if she had arrived at the same conclusion. Before he could come to terms with the disagreeable effect that had on him, however, she moved in closer to where he stood and said, “I’ve never seen a man cook before.”
His chest expanded. “Necessity can be quite motivational.” He placed two slices of bread on the pan and let them toast in the leftover grease while he poured the tea he’d prepared into cups. “I had no one to rely on for food but myself when I left home.” He shrugged at the memory. “It was actually nice not having servants around all the time, ready to tend to my every need. So I chose not to hire any even after I got myself settled in Vienna.”
“Then you also clean?”
“And launder my clothes.” When he caught her staring at him in dismay, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You don’t send them out to a laundress?”
“I’m just one person, Miss Howard. I find it’s not really worth it, though I did try doing so once in the beginning. When my shirts came back two sizes smaller, I decided never to do it again.”
She blinked. “But you’re a duke’s son.”
“And you are an affluent businessman’s daughter.” He set their teacups on the table, retrieved the toast from the pan, and placed each slice on a plate beside the accompanying egg. “I doubt you were raised to cook and clean and tutor orphans.”
“I suppose you have a point.” Her brow puckered as if in thought. She went to the table and took her seat. “Moving here was the best decision I ever made for myself. I’ve never felt freeer.”
“It cannot have been easy, though.” He sat opposite her and took a sip of his tea.
She did the same, directing his gaze once again to her lips, now carefully poised against the rim of her cup while she drank.
A rush of desire swept through him again, this time tempting him with erotic visualizations of how those lips might give him the most divine pleasure.
“On the contrary, it was extraordinarily challenging,” she said, her precise tone suggesting that she was completely oblivious to the forceful effect she was having on him. “Not just for me, of course, but for all of us.” She set her cup aside, picked up her knife and fork, and proceeded to cut her toast into narrow strips. “We had to learn new skills.” A smile tugged at her lips. “The first meal I made was an utter disaster. The meat caught fire and blackened while the water I was boiling vegetables in overflowed.” A sigh accompanied by a small shake of her head conveyed her self-deprecation. “I burnt my hands badly in the process.”
“Dear God.” The arousal that had been building inside him was swiftly banked by concern. He instinctively looked at her hands, and she turned them palm up to reveal three dark lines of discoloration.
An ache took hold of his heart. “How?” It was all he could manage to get past the sudden knot in his throat.
“In my haste to remove the burnt roast from the spit, I did not think to use a dishtowel or anything else to protect my hands.” She laughed lightly, forcing his gaze back to hers. “You need not look so serious. I’m quite all right and have learned from my silly mistake. Haven’t burnt a roast or myself since.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” He studied her for a second then asked, “Do you like doing it? Cooking, that is.”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her answer. “I’ve improved a great deal over the years. Acquiring a couple of recipe books helped. And some of the women I’ve met in these parts, especially the vicar’s wife, have provided me with some wonderful advice.” An almost shy smile tugged at her lips as she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m especially fond of cooking new dishes and have started compiling a book of my own recipes.”
She dipped a strip of toast into her egg yolk and took a bite while he stared at her in wonder. “Thank you for making breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” he said before popping a piece of egg on toast into his mouth.
They ate for a moment in silence before she eventually asked, “What aboutyourscar? It doesn’t look like the sort of thing you acquired by accident.”
Griffin winced. He didn’t like being reminded of the poorest lack in judgment he’d ever had. “I came too close to another man’s blade once,” he grumbled.
“I thought as much.” Miss Howard hesitated briefly and then posed her next question. “Why were you fighting?”
“I prefer not to discuss it.” He met her gaze boldly. “It isn’t a suitable subject of conversation for a lady.”
“If you recall, we promised each other honesty.”
A sigh forced its way up his throat. Devil take it if she wasn’t correct.
Right.
If honesty was what she wanted, then that was what she would get. “Years ago, a woman came into my shop.” He sighed at the memory of golden curls framing a heart-shaped face and eyes as blue as the summer sky. “She was the loveliest creature I’d ever seen.”
“What happened to her?” The words were gently spoken. Almost a whisper.
“She…” He swallowed. Already his heart was pounding while tremors raked his skin. Gripping the edge of the table, Griffin struggled to calm the riotous flare of emotion this conversation had caused. “As a widow, she was free to enjoy certain liberties.” He gave Miss Howard a pointed look.
