Page 64 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“Can I interest you in getting a piece of cake and a cup of tea before we return home?” he asked, linking his arm with hers.
She gazed at him, noting the light spattering of freckles over his nose and the flecks of green in his eyes. “Haven’t I taken up enough of your time?”
“Not at all.” He flashed his teeth at her. “Besides, I find myself hungry for something sweet. What do you say?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”
He knocked against the wall and leaned out the window to call something to their driver. When he sat back again, the tip of his nose was slightly pink from the chill outside.
“So, you adore bookshops,” he said, his knees spreading as he got comfortable. “What else do you like to do?”
She side-eyed him. “I’m afraid I’m not complicated, my lord.”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew,” she repeated. “As I’ve said, I like to read, write, and learn. Anything that facilitates those pursuits is something I’ll enjoy.”
“Hm.”
He didn’t ask her more, and as they rode in a comfortable silence, she couldn’t help wondering what was preoccupying his mind. He never reacted as she expected, which meant he must think differently too.
Before long, they stopped outside a teahouse in one of Mayfair’s busiest streets. Through the window, she could see well-dressed ladies and gentlemen seated at the small, round tables inside. She’d been here before with her mother, and it was definitely a place to see and be seen.
Thankfully, they also made a delicious lemon cake.
Andrew escorted her inside, and a server hurried to seat them near the window. Amelia hid her smile. She was accustomed to being seated near the back. Now, as a countess, she was someone to be flashed in front of others to entice them in.
Andrew pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit. They each ordered tea and a slice of cake—lemon for her and a vanilla sponge for him.
His hand brushed hers across the table, and sparks skittered up her arm. She allowed her fingers to rest against his, although the display of affection didn’t come easily. At least, not to her. He seemed perfectly content to shower her with casual touches that left her nerves alight and eager for more.
Was it intentional?
It was impossible to know for sure, but the more closely she paid attention to him, the more she realized that he didn’t even seem to notice that he was doing it. Physical affection was simple for him. It didn’t require carefulplanning or consideration of the reasons why it may or may not be a good idea. It’s just how he was.
She wasn’t sure whether to like that or mistrust it. On the one hand, she couldn’t deny that his touches felt good. She liked them too much for her own peace of mind. But on the other hand, if he was comfortable casually brushing up against women, did that mean he’d done it so many times in the past that he was immune?
He had a bit of a reputation as a charming rogue—although his reputation was far from the worst among the ton. At least he’d never led any debutantes astray. But how many other women had he been intimate with?
Stop it,she scolded herself.It’s none of your business. Fidelity is not part of your agreement. You have no right to question him on such a matter.
The server returned with a gleaming silver tray, which she set in the center of the table. With steady hands, she poured tea for each of them and doctored it to their preferences; then she placed a slice of cake in front of each of them.
“Thank you,” Amelia murmured.
The server dipped her head and backed away.
Amelia used a fork to separate off a morsel of cake and popped it into her mouth. The delicious combination of sweet and tart flavors danced on her tongue, and she closed her eyes to savor them. Once she’d swallowed, she opened her eyes and found Andrew’s gaze burning into her, his eyes darker than usual.
She blinked, surprised. “I—”
“If it isn’t the Earl of Longley.”
Amelia jerked in her seat, her heart leaping. She’d been so absorbed that she hadn’t noticed the woman approach. She spun toward her so quickly, the seat squeaked against the floor.
“Miss Giles.” Andrew’s tone was uncharacteristically cold as he looked over Amelia’s shoulder. “What a surprise.”
The woman smirked, her plump lips twisting in a way that unsettled Amelia. “I imagine it is. I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked up from my scone and saw you sitting mere yards away.”
