I turned fast, letting the sheer curtains fall from my fingers. “Nothing, sir. It seems such a nice day. Perhaps you should climb into your landau and go for a drive.”
“A drive without you? I brought the landau to entice you.” The blond Adonis with his pale blue eyes seemed impassioned about courting me in his fancy vehicle with its top down. Almost as enthusiastic as he was devouring one of my freshly baked chocolate biscuits. “You must come, Mrs. St. Maur.”
“No, I shall stay here at Sandlin Court. It was nice of you to visit.” I headed to the door and held it open. My sleeve snagged on the molding. “Shouldn’t you be going?”
“Nonsense, Mrs. St. Maur. I don’t have an appointment at the docks for another hour. It seems like I just arrived.”
No, he’d been here long enough to devour a plate of cookies and to crowd me twice on the couch.
Tugging free, the gray lace ripped a little. So much for looking perfect for the earl. Resigned, I walked back to the window and adjusted the curtains, so I could see out the window when I sank into one of the newly upholstered chairs. A dark yellow tapestry, almost jonquil in color, covered them. I wrapped my cream shawl about me and sat. I wasn’t cold, but I needed something to do with my hands. They seemed nervous and sweaty, but that was from my fretting about all the biscuits being eaten up before the earl’s arrival. He liked treats. The sweets would get him to stay longer.
Willingham looked at me with big eyes.
I glanced at the diminishing pile of biscuits. “I know you’re a busy man, Mr. Willingham. I don’t want you to tarry too long and deprive others of your company.”
The man guffawed. “You’re funny. Good sense of humor.” He was a nice-looking fellow whose eyes brightened when he laughed, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. His stare was too strong. There was longing and something else in his face, but that had to be his desire for my biscuits.
Patience’s recipe for the treats turned even my clumsy hands into a wondrous baker. Could I have been . . .
I lifted the silver tray to Willingham. “Another, sir?”
His mouth pursed as if he wanted to say something, so I pressed it into his hands.
“You seem to enjoy these, sir. Please have another.”
“Well, if you insist, Mrs. St. Maur. You are a dear.” He scooped up two.
I’d used dies to cut a fleur-de-lis on the surface of the dough, and the heat of the oven deepened the pattern. The light chocolate coating on the back made the treat more refined, adding sweetness to the buttery texture. I thought they’d be enjoyed by Ashbrook as he teased the information I wanted.
Now, I doubted there’d be any when he arrived.
Crumbs on his lips, Willingham kept chewing. “These are excellent. Do you remember how to cook other things?”
“Glad you like the biscuits, Mr. Willingham.” I ignored his question like I did all questions about my lack of memories.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You did, but have another biscuit.”
The Adonis stature faded the more I glared at Mr. Willingham. He wore his hair too long. It curled over his ears like fur. His coat hung upon him like it was two sizes too big. The man had the money for a haircut and a tailor, didn’t he? Or was he looking for a wealthy wife to maintain such upkeep?
“These are good.” He talked with food in his mouth. “I should probably save some for your other guests. You do have other company coming?”
The sheepish look was slightly endearing, but there wasn’t much of a draw, nothing to compel me to prefer his company to any other man with broad shoulders.
The notion of choosing a new husband based on looks made me want to snicker. My new fortune offered me vain reasons to be picky. It was liberating to be so capricious, but I didn’t need to choose. Patience said that I could continue to reside with her.
If I wanted a new husband, he had to look at me as the duke did his wife. When he thought no one saw, his whole face lit when she walked in the room. It was something to see a hardened military man amazed by her grace, her smile.
I wanted that type of love, all-encompassing, even overpowering.
My gentleman caller scooted along the couch. He sat closer to my chair. His knees in beach-colored breeches almost touched mine.
I think I liked him better far away.
“What is it that you intend to do while you are in Town, Mrs. St. Maur?”
“Visit with friends.”
