Page 115 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“Whoever it was is too late. I must be going,” a gentleman said.

“Thank you for entertaining us so splendidly,” a lady said. “Until next time.”

“Count on my contribution for the bridge repairs,” another man said.

“Oh! I do. And of course, you will engage your neighbors to match your donation. Remind them how it will improve trade, just as the roads have.”

The man harrumphed an agreement.

“Very kind of you to come, Lady Molesworth. I hope we will see you next time?”

“I cannot avoid it, can I? Not when you’ve appointed yourself overlord of Wadebridge.”

Louisa laughed, though the woman was acerbic. “You are droll, my lady. Everyone agrees you are the mistress here.”

A parade of men and women, old and young, wealthy and poor, exited until it seemed the entire village must have been inside the cottage. He listened for the door to click closed. Instead, footsteps crunched in his direction.

“Hal?” Louisa called.

Hal? Was she talking to him? He darted for the back of the house, the gravel sounding thunderous in his ears. He pressed himself against the stone wall. This might be the most idiotic thing he’d ever done.

A white cat jumped over the wall and sidled up to him, wrapping around James’s legs.

“Hal? Come, kitty.”

The cat mewed, and Louisa rounded the corner dressed like a queen in pink silk that hugged her curves and flared over her hips with flounces and ribbons in all the right places. Hal, the cat, jumped into her arms.

“Lord Halverton.” Surprise was replaced by a grin, which quickly morphed as her brows contracted and her mouth fell. “What the devil? Like a spy, sneaking around my house.”

James emerged from the shadows, plunging his hands into his pockets. He stood stupidly, trying to remember what he’d decided to say to her.

“Come. There is a tower of pastries, and I need tea after all the talking I’ve done.”

She held her head high, moving with a new confidence and purpose.

He dragged behind her.

Inside, the cottage was even more pleasant than the exterior, with whitewashed walls and pink, and pink, and pink. Pink and white curtains hung over wide windows, and matching furniture graced the parlor. Pink hothouse peonies bent over numerous vases. In the center of the room, a table was laden with cake—partially consumed—covered in pink frosting. Where had she procured the macarons? Bowls overflowed with expensive sweetmeats and chocolate. He half smiled, pleased to see how she had her way with her new dwelling.

“This is a pleasant room,” he said.

She beamed at him. It set his heart racing.

“What is all this?” he asked, indicating the elaborate tea.

“Oh, a little project. We are advancing the town in hopes of drawing more people to market.”

Their eyes met briefly before Louisa glanced away, her gaze falling on the heavily laden table. “Not mine.” Her laugh was hollow. “I cannot afford such things, but the shop owners bring the best of their wares to our meetings. Please sit down.”

He perched on the edge of a chair, and she handed him a plate of food. “Jenny?” A young woman wearing a lacy cap entered. “Will you and John put all this in baskets and deliver it to the people I’ve written out? The list is on my writing desk.” She sat down across from him. “The sweets encourage others to contribute to our cause.”

“Clever.”

“Hm.”

Jenny and John, who glowered mightily at James, began basketing the food. “You don’t mind the bustle, do you?” Louisa asked.

He did mind. How could he speak to her with the two servants dismantling the mountains of food between them? He set his plate aside.