“You need to rest and eat.”
With his palms stroking and claiming everything, Felton helped me sit and returned to rubbing my shoulders and that spot on my neck prone to aches.
“It’s not fair. You being sweet, with all these wonderful smells, and I’meau de cow.”
He put a finger to my lips, then worked his thumbs along my temples. Then the beautiful pressure was gone. He’d stepped behind me and pushed my chair to the table. When he sat down, his face seemed concerned and maybe guilty. “I’m taking advantage of you. That’s surely wrong.”
The way I was so adamant about not being near him, he must think I didn’t want his touch. He couldn’t be more wrong.
Felton returned to his seat far away, but not before filling my plate with a cut of the beefsteak and a hearty roasted potato.
The man was faithful, offering no talking, but he bowed his head as if to offer me a wordless blessing for the meal.
Seizing my fork and knife, I started to dive in, but then I thought of Moomoo. Yes, she was awful, and she ate my handkerchief and my coat, but this could be her mother or cousin.
And now she was mine, part of my new family.
“I know you asked for no words, Lady Gantry, but you seem in agony.”
The lump in my throat was hard to swallow, but it went down when I sipped at my water.
“You know that was the problem, us not talking, Cecilia.”
“We communicated in other ways. I think that’s what you said.”
With a sad sort of curl to his lips, he sat back and lifted his goblet. “I miss every way we said or showed affection, you know that.”
If I closed my eyes, I’d remember too. Instead, I looked down at my traitorous plate.
“Is the beefsteak not to your liking? I thought it your favorite.” He lifted a silver dome. “What about some cod?”
Grilled with onions and wild greens, it seemed perfect and it wasn’t related to Moomoo. “The fish, Felton. Yes, the fish, please.”
Switching plates, he offered me a feast of fluffy white cod, a dip of greens, and a tangy brown sauce.
Felton scooted closer. “You do look tired. Should I feed you?”
And so it begins.
“No, my lord. But you’re right. We should’ve stayed at the last inn. I will so enjoy sleeping, sound sleeping, like near-death sleep tonight.”
His grin held a tinge more of the guilt I saw before, but I didn’t care so much. His countenance was not guarded. It was open to me.
“My lord, it isn’t like you have to feel guilty for riding in comfort when the coach was my choice.”
He forked a piece of the savory fish into my mouth. “If you say so, Lady Gantry.”
I tasted a piece of the tender flesh of the cod. Salty, buttery—it all tasted so good.
He carved into the beef. The juices ran. Dark and rich, the gravy puddled on the lip he licked.
The way he ate, savoring every last bite, enjoying every morsel like it was his last.
Understanding what he’d done for the Department of War and the Colonies made me feel his joy for the present so much better.
“You’re yawning, Lady Gantry. I think you’re going to oversleep and miss the stagecoach. It leaves at nine.”
Mouth so full, all I could do was nod, nod and fork in more fish. “It has been a long day,” I said when my mouth was clear, “but if I miss it I will . . . I will try not to miss it, but I’ll catch the next coach.”
