Page 24

A smile tilted her mouth upward.

She was quite becoming when she smiled.

“Charles vows honey’s medicinal qualities can cure almost anything.”

She placed the tray on his lap, and once again, he caught a whiff of her unique scent. Not the cloying, heavy fragrances so many ton ladies preferred, but a refreshing and natural aroma, and perhaps, bearing the merest hint of yeast.

“Did you make the bread?” The words tumbled from his mouth before he registered them in his mind.

She was so close he could see the gold flecks in her doe-like eyes.

Her mouth parted in surprise, drawing his attention to her soft, full lips and breath smelling of tea and lemon.

Had she ever been kissed?

Egads, man. Control yourself.

Straightening, she nodded. “Actually, I did. I do not normally, but we were short two maids today.”

“And the butter and jam?”

Why the bloody hell was he asking these inane questions?

Had he developed brain fever?

Had boredom muddled his mind?

No, it was the knock to his head. It had addled him.

There was no other explanation for his peculiar inquires.

Miss Granger’s musical tinkle filled the chamber as she strode to her wardrobe and tossed the doors open. “Yes, I helped with the jam too, but not the butter. Although the cream came from Buttercup. The milk is from Clover.”

“Ah, the brave lady bovines who rescued me, if I recall.” He could not prevent his grin.

“Indeed.” A smile twitched the corners of her mouth and sparkled in her eyes. “They are Jersey cows. Though at nine and eleven, respectively, their milk production is slowing a trifle.”

Did her dulcet tone contain the merest hint of concern?

Less milk meant she might have to consider sending the old gals to the butcher and replacing them with younger cows. Somehow, he did not think Miss Granger was as pragmatic about her livestock as she was running her children’s home.

Ducking her head inside the wardrobe, she rummaged around.

Outside, an owl hooted, the sound haunting and familiar.

Dutifully, he drank the milk, then gulped down the tea, wincing as the hot, sweet liquid burned his throat.

Godawful stuff.

He shuddered.

One might as well chew grass or nibble hay.

Cows and other herbivores were welcome to the stuff.

Standing back and staring at the wardrobe, Miss Granger planted her hands on her nicely rounded hips, a frown turning her mouth downward. “Where did I put the dashed thing?”

Taking a bite of the thickly sliced bread, slathered with creamy butter and delicious jam, he cocked his head. The muted light gave her an ethereal air, and he realized with a start, she was quite pretty.