Using the silver server, he carefully lifted a confection on to her plate, cream and strawberry jam layered between flaky pastry. ‘Try this one.’
She took a bite. It melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment as she savoured the burst of strawberries and cream, and the explosion of buttery pastry. She swallowed. ‘Oh, so delicious.’
She became aware of his gaze watching her mouth with an intensity that caused her insides to tighten. He brought his gaze up to meet hers and the desire in them took her breath away. Heat rushed up from her chest all the way to her hairline.
His lips curved in a sensual smile. ‘I am glad you like it. It is my favourite of them all.’
He picked the same kind and took a large bite with white even teeth before it got anywhere near his plate. He managed it without creating a single crumb on the pristine white tablecloth, whereas she had managed a veritable avalanche of pastry flakes on and around her plate.
‘I can see you are an expert.’
‘I am. My mother used to bring us here when we were children as a special treat. The Duchess did not approve of crumbs. The secret is to inhale, just a little, as you bite.’
‘I would be more likely to choke,’ she said, eyeing the last mouthful on her plate.
‘Mother did not approve of choking either.’
He spoke with such seriousness, she had a feeling there was more to his words than he was saying, yet he looked perfectly cheerful. Perhaps he was making a joke? Unsure how to respond, she sipped her tea.
He put a different sort of cake on her plate. A scone with more of that lovely jam and cream in the middle. ‘Wait,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I haven’t finished the first one yet.’
He grinned. ‘You have to keep up or I’ll be hogging them all to myself.’
‘Aha, a challenge. I can tell what you must have been like as a boy.’
‘I had to be quick. My brother is three years older than me. He could make short work of a plate of cakes. Laura and I had to guard our plates, too, or he’d filch from them as well.’
‘It must have been fun.’
His gaze shadowed. ‘We did have fun upon occasion, though being the heir and spare to a duke is a serious business.’
‘I would imagine so.’ Since it seemed like a bit of a painful topic she decided to change it. ‘You mentioned that you visited India. What was it like?’
‘Like?’
‘Well, I do know that it is hot and that the people are exotic and different, since I have read about it in books, but I have never met anyone who has actually been there.’
‘It is exotic and different.’ He squinted as if looking into the distance. ‘The heat is extraordinary.’
‘Like a hot summer day?’
‘Not even close. The air is like a wall of steam pushing against you in the middle of the day. And it smells different. The spices used in their foods lingers in every breath. It is crowded and noisy and since everything is in the local dialect, one is confused and awed. I spent a lot of time simply watching it all.’
‘Did you see any elephants?’
‘Elephants? Yes. They are everywhere. They are used the way we use horses, more or less. For farming, pulling heavy loads, carrying people.’
She ate the scone. ‘Oh, my goodness, that is so good, I don’t know which I prefer now.’
‘Then try this one.’
He plopped a jam tart with a blob of cream right in the middle on to her plate.
She took a bite. Again, the pastry melted on her tongue. ‘Oh, my.’ She sighed. ‘Are elephants as big as they appear in books?’
‘A book cannot do justice to the size of them, I’m afraid. Such a massive body, so much strength, all carefully controlled by their mahout.’
‘Mahout.’ She liked the taste of the word on her tongue. ‘I would like to see that. Did you ever ride one?’
‘I did. Several times. The local Sultan was most insistent on showing the son of a duke every courtesy.’ He sounded a little bitter.
‘Was it uncomfortable?’ she asked, trying to understand his sudden change of mood.
He seemed to relax at her question. ‘It took a bit of getting used to, I must say. One is an awfully long way from the ground. And, my Lord, how it sways. Like a ship in a heavy swell. The stomach takes a while to settle down. Although I must say I prefer an elephant to a camel any day of the week.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you have ridden on a camel, too?’
‘All right. I won’t.’
He was teasing her again. She tapped his foot with the toe of her slipper and gave him a mock frown. ‘Tell me.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Eat the last cake and I will.’ He placed it on her plate. This was a little round sponge cake with its top cut to look like little wings sprouting from a dollop of cream.
She poured them both another cup of tea and dutifully ate the cake. It was so light, it was like eating fresh air. ‘Absolute heaven,’ she declared. ‘Now tell me.’
‘Very well,’ he said, chuckling. He covered her hand with his where it rested on the table. The warmth of his skin was a delicious shock. Her toes curled inside her slippers. Never had a man touched her so intimately. She had the strange urge to lift his hand to her mouth, to brush her lips against the hairs on the back of his knuckle, to feel the weight of it in her palm. She swallowed a gasp of surprise and looked up to again find that intensity in his gaze that made her breathless and sent little thrills running along her veins.
‘Yes, what?’ she managed to say, more or less in a normal voice.
‘I did ride a camel. But they are unpleasant beasts, constantly grunting and moaning their displeasure. They also spit.’
She grimaced. ‘They spit at people?’
‘It is a form of aggression or defence, I believe. Their owners take great delight in putting the unwary traveller in the line of fire.’
He looked so disgruntled, she couldn’t help laughing. ‘One spit at you?’
‘He caught me right in the eye. It stung like the blazes.’
She shuddered. ‘I think I will avoid them, then. Though I’m hardly likely to meet one in London.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the other couple, were leaving. The woman was looking at them. It seemed as if she intended to approach. She said something in a low voice to her companion and he shook his head as he responded, not looking their way at all, since all his attention was focused on the woman at his side. He gave her a look so full of warmth and affection, it made Carrie’s heart stumble. It seemed to envelop the woman like an aura. Like some warrior of old offering his lady protection. It was...beautiful.
The woman gave a light laugh and as she passed their table she offered Carrie a smile of encouragement. Carrie blushed and dropped her gaze. No doubt the woman thought they were married, or at the very least betrothed. If she knew the truth, she would likely be horrified. Assuming she and her companion were married.
If they were married, they were certainly happy and that made her feel strangely glad.
‘More tea?’ she asked Avery.
He shook his head, eyeing the empty cake plate.
‘You were right, these are the best cream cakes I have ever tasted.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed them.’ He sounded very pleased with himself.
She could not help wondering how many other women he had brought to this spot. The owner certainly seemed to know him very well. Something unpleasant twisted in her chest, causing a pang. Really? She was feeling jealous? Or possessive? When she knew this was nothing more than a temporary arrangement cooked up between them?
The pang became a sharp ache behind her breastbone. Ridiculous. She’d had her chance at marriage. Look what a failure she had been. She would do better to devote herself to helping her new family. They had welcomed her with
open arms and they deserved her full attention. This thing with Avery was merely a fling, if it turned out to be anything at all. A brief one at that.
He gave her a smile, as if he sensed her unease. His usual charming smile. The one that made her toes curl in her slippers and stole her breath. It was warm and lovely, and touched her heart in unexpected ways. How could it do that?
She had been letting the longings she’d tried so hard to suppress sneak out into the light. She really must not do that. Not with this man. Or any other. She would only get hurt.
He tilted his head. ‘Tell me about the most interesting thing you did as a child?’
‘Interesting?’
‘Yes. Some adventure that stays in your mind as a fond memory.’
Most of her childhood had been a rather serious affair. But... ‘I remember going to Goose Fair with Father and Mother. It is held every year in Nottingham Town Square in September.’ She smiled at the recollection. ‘We went because we needed a new gardener and a supply of cheese for the winter. Father said it was the only place all the best local cheeses were to be had. I was more interested in the fairings on the stalls and the entertainers. I remember, we bought bunches of ribbons from a tinker for me and Mother. There were jugglers and mimes and you had to keep your hand on your reticule because of all the pickpockets. And then there were the geese. Hundreds of them. They made such a racket.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Avery agreed. ‘Fairs are great fun. It was grand mingling with all the locals. Bart and I used to go to one near our estate every year. And when we were older we used to sneak off from our tutor to watch the boxing matches. I won quite a bit of money off him betting on the outcome.’ He smiled fondly.
She wasn’t sure if his smile was for the memory of the fair, or the recollection of the money he had won. She wanted to think it was the former. ‘I only went that once.’ Mother had died not long afterwards. Father had never been so jolly again.
Avery grinned at her. ‘I sometimes forget the fun parts of growing up. I haven’t thought about those fairs for years, and though I have attended many a boxing match they were all between professional fighters. In those days it was local lads, most of whom we knew.’
She had not thought about that day in years. It was a good memory and she could not help smiling at him. ‘Well, I think that was my most adventurous afternoon. It certainly doesn’t come anywhere close to elephants and camels.’
‘Have you ever been sailing?’
‘No.’
‘Fishing?’
‘No. I grew up in the middle of Nottingham. There was no opportunity for such things.’
He laughed. ‘I suppose not. Perhaps one day I could—’ He broke off.
There would never be a one day for them. To fill the awkward pause, she glanced around the table. ‘I could not eat another bite or drink another mouthful of tea, could you?’
‘No, indeed.’ He gestured to Mrs Bentlock to bring the bill and after he had paid her, he helped Carrie to rise. It was not long before they were tooling back along the road towards London.
Chapter Five
Avery felt unusually contented. Perhaps it was the good weather. But more likely it was the company of the woman at his side. There was something about her calm air of contentment that settled his constant urge to be on the move.
‘Do you think they were married?’ Carrie asked. ‘The older couple in the alcove?’
Startled by the wistful note in Carrie’s voice, Avery glanced at her face and caught a look of such longing it shook him to the core.
‘Probably not,’ he said rather more brusquely than he had intended. ‘They looked too happy.’
The light in her face went out. Damn. He had not meant to be so forthright, but he certainly didn’t want her getting romantic notions of a long and happy life together.
He didn’t want a wife. A family tied one down. Look at how he was forced to kick his heels here in London for Laura’s sake. And perhaps just a very little for Father’s, though the old man would never acknowledge his presence in town. Not unless Avery gave in to his ducal demands and married a woman of the Duke’s choosing. Which went full circle around to the disappointment on Carrie’s face.
She shifted in her seat, putting distance between them, and he instantly regretted the loss of intimacy that had been growing between them. He should have been a little gentler, but he could not afford to give her the wrong idea. Then another reason for her interest in the couple occurred to him and he felt worse.
‘Do you miss your husband?’
Her expression changed. Stiffened. Becoming more remote.
Hell, why had he asked her that? His usual easy manner around the ladies seemed to have deserted him entirely.
‘We were not married very long,’ she said coolly. ‘He—died a very few weeks after we were wed.’
He frowned. ‘You did not know him beforehand? It was not a love match?’
‘It was arranged very quickly.’
‘His death must have come as quite a shock, then?’
She nodded.
Damn. It was like pulling teeth trying to get any information from this woman. Perhaps he should leave well enough alone, but something drove him on. The need to understand what made her so sad beneath her outward appearance of complacency. At least his talk of his travels had made her forget her unhappiness for a while, for her laughter had been genuine. And then she’d had to start on about marriage.
Resentment filled him. Resentment that even if he wanted to, he could not afford to marry. Not that he did. The very thought appalled him. He liked his freedom. No, the real resentment was against his father for forcing the issue. He shoved his feelings away, they were not worth the bother, and focused on Carrie. On her sadness.
‘May I ask how he died?’
She hesitated as if trying to find a way to express what ought to have been a simple answer. ‘He died in battle. At Badajoz. Shortly after we married.’
The mists in his brain dissipated in a flash. Now he recalled where he had heard the name Greystoke. It had been a huge on dit a week or so before he came home. Laura had told him all about the three noblemen who had gone off to war and been killed in Spain, leaving the house of Westram in complete disarray.
An abyss seemed to open up at Avery’s feet. ‘You are Westram’s sister-in-law.’ He could not help the note of accusation in his voice. This was bad news indeed.
She tensed. ‘I am.’
‘Why in heaven’s name did you not tell me?’
Her spine straightened. ‘I do not see how it is relevant.’
‘And what the hell is Westram about, letting you keep a shop like some common merchant’s wife?’ Leaving her around for men like him, or worse, to prey on, for heaven’s sake. Or leaving her around to trap some unsuspecting nobleman into marriage. God help him, had he really fallen into such a trap?
‘I am some common merchant’s daughter,’ she said icily.
‘You are related to a peer.’ He could not help his fury. ‘The settlements—’
‘Are hardly any of your business.’ She stared ahead of them. ‘What a wonderful view.’
So, she was not prepared to discuss her husband with him. That was fine. He had no wish to become embroiled in her personal circumstances.
The sister-in-law of an earl. This was why he never pursued single ladies, even if they were widows. He’d certainly jumped in with both feet in this instance. What the hell was he to do? End it, right here and now, would be the most sensible course of action.
Dammit it, he didn’t want to. Not yet.
He was surprised by his reluctance. Normally, he would have no such qualms. But then, it was a matter of honour. A gentleman never went back on his word. He’d just have to find a way to handle it so he did not find himself leg shackled.
* * *
Carrie d
idn’t know whether to feel miserable that he had discovered who she was, or relieved. She should have told him right at the beginning. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. Guilt that she hadn’t been honest when she prided herself on speaking the truth, along with disappointment that he was clearly going to end their association before it had properly begun.
Nor could she imagine going through this again, asking another gentleman to be her lover, only to be rejected. She shuddered inside; the thought of asking another gentleman made her feel ill. Positively humiliated. She should not have asked Avery either. At least he had been a gentleman about it. Instead of turning her down flat or leaping into her bed for some exorbitant sum, he’d proposed a different sort of arrangement, with the possibility of more being left in the hands of fate. But what the ‘more’ might entail she wasn’t quite sure and hadn’t liked to ask.
But she had offered him money and since he was a gambler, like Jonathan, he no doubt would expect to be paid, just as he expected her to pay him for helping her sell her hats.
She pinned a calm expression on her face and observed the passing view as they drew closer and closer to the fringes of the city. Once they reached her little shop, they would never have to see each other again. A sense of loss filled her chest. It was surely only because she knew she would never attempt anything like this again. It was all just too demeaning.
The silence between them became oppressive. Nothing she thought of to say sounded right in her own ears. How did one put an end to such a contract anyway? It was highly embarrassing. For them both.
‘I’m sorry I was sharp with you,’ he said quietly as they passed the first smattering of houses at the edge of the city.
‘Not at all,’ she said, trying to sound as if she didn’t care. ‘I never should have approached you in the first place. I doubt it will make the slightest difference to the success of the shop.’
His eyes widened. ‘You are giving me my marching orders?’
Oh, dear, was it not permitted to end such an arrangement? Not even one that had been vague in the extreme?
A Lord for the Wallflower Widow Page 8