Page 60 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
She almost glanced over her shoulder and then laughed. “That will take some getting used to.”
He led her into the corridor and one door down to the morning room they’d briefly paused in earlier. Amelia hadn’t noticed many of the details at the time, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened during the day, but now she paused to take them in.
The wallpaper was forest green with a gold pattern. The drapes were also green, and as Andrew had said, a square table large enough to seat four people was located in the corner of the room.
A plate of bread rolls in the center of the table gave off a yeasty aroma that made her mouth water. A covered plate was positioned on each side of the table.
Andrew pulled out the chair farthest from the wall for her, and she sat. He took the seat opposite. A maid entered the room and removed the covering from each plate. Andrew thanked her, and she left as silently as she’d arrived.
“There’s more if you’re hungry,” he said, picking up his cutlery.“It’s simple fare this evening, since we had such a rich meal earlier.”
Amelia did the same. She’d been served a bowl of beef stew and a side plate of potatoes, beans, and peas. “I didn’t eat much earlier, and this looks delicious.”
“Mrs. Baker is a wonder in the kitchen.”
She waited for him to take a bread roll before following suit. He didn’t seem like an overly traditional man, but it wasbest not to assume such things. She broke the bread roll open, dunked it in the stew, and tore off a bite. The bread was soft and warm, the stew flavorsome.
“Oh, that’s good,” she murmured.
He smirked. “I told you so.”
They both ate ravenously, without pausing for conversation other than mutual appreciation of their meal. When their plates were clean, the maid cleared them away and returned with two servings of rhubarb fool.
Amelia patted her tummy. She was reasonably full but could definitely make room for dessert. “You are spoiling me.”
He flashed that crooked incisor. “Isn’t that what husbands are supposed to do?”
“I have no complaints.” She scooped out a blob of cream and rhubarb and tasted it, closing her eyes to savor the slight tartness combined with sweetness.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “You like dessert, then?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” She paused to take a drink. “I’m not addicted to sweets, if that’s what you mean, but I enjoy good food in whatever form it comes.”
He tipped his head toward her. “Just as you enjoy writing.”
She looked at him questioningly, and he nodded toward her hand. “There’s a smudge of ink. I assume you were writing something before dinner. Will you tell me more about that?”
Amelia hesitated. Technically, her letter to the publisher wouldn’t leave the house until tomorrow. If she told him the full truth and he disapproved, he could stop it.
She bit her lip. Honestly, she didn’t think he would interfere. The earl—Andrew—struck her as a man of honor. Besides, it might be best for him to know now rather than discover further down the track.
“I’ve written a novel,” she told him, her pulse thundering like mad at the base of her throat. “About a young woman who gets stranded abroad in the jungle after the ship she’s traveling on goes down in a storm.”
He stopped eating, his lips parted in surprise, his twinkling hazel eyes focused on her. “Go on.”
So she told him everything.
After a while, he began to smile, and by the time she finished, he was beaming.
“That’s incredible.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I married such a talented woman.”
Amelia’s heart lifted. “You don’t disapprove?”
He frowned. “Disapprove? You’ve written a novel. Do you know how many gentlemen of my acquaintance have talked of doing such a thing? Yet none of them have accomplished it, and you have.”
She ducked her head shyly. “It’s not as if it’s been published yet though. They may not be interested.”
“They will be.” He laid his hand on hers atop the table. “I have faith in you.”
