Page 20 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
He seemed to be in the mood to be pleased. She began to relax.
‘If you would carve the beef and the chicken, and then help yourself to the other dishes, I think that would work very well. There is white wine in the cooler, or red wine, if you prefer.’
‘Wonderful,’ he said. He carved thin slices of the meat and put them on a plate, which, to her shock, he handed to her.
‘Oh, but—’
He chuckled. ‘Fill your plate with vegetables, Mrs Lamb, it would be a shame for everything to get cold while you dither.’
She repressed a smile and did as instructed. It was no good standing here arguing about protocol.
She took her plate to her place at the table and, to her surprise, he was there, pulling back her chair, helping her to sit. She could not remember the last time she had been treated like a lady.
Her heart picked up speed. She sat and smiled up at him. ‘Thank you.’
She waited for him to fill his plate and sit down.
He poured water for them both and then chose the white wine from the cooler and, without asking, poured them each a glass. ‘You have gone to a great deal of trouble, Mrs Lamb. Thank you.’ He raised his glass in a toast. ‘To the chef.’
Once more her cheeks felt hot. She picked up her glass of wine and tilted her head in acknowledgement of his toast. They both sipped.
The wine was delicious. Crisp and cold and slightly fruity.
‘Bon appetit,’he said and began to eat.
Her heart felt so full, she wasn’t sure she could eat a bite. But she had to, or he would wonder if there was a problem.
She cut into the chicken and was pleased to find it juicy and tender. The scalloped potatoes were cooked just right and the vegetables were perfect. She gestured to the small gravy boat. ‘Would you pass the gravy?’
‘I most certainly will. Can you pass the mustard, please?’
For a moment or two there was silence as they both took the edge off their hunger.
Abruptly, he put down his knife and fork. ‘Good Lord.’
She froze. Was something wrong?
‘This is far beyond anything I expected.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘This food. It is delicious.’
He sounded so disbelieving, a surge of anger rose up from somewhere deep inside. ‘Why would you be surprised?’
‘Because you are—’ He stopped and shook his head.
‘Because I am what? A woman? You did not think a woman would be able to cook as well as your fancy French chef?’
A guilty expression flashed across his face. He gave her a shamefaced smile. ‘I apologise. I must say, this meal is as good as, if not better than, anything Chandon has prepared over the past year. In my experience, all the best chefs are men. And usually French.’
She had the feeling he wasn’t speaking the entire truth. His reaction had been too extreme to match his reason.
But she was pleased by his compliment. She could hardly argue with his praise, even if something about it did not feel...honest. On the other hand, she was quite prepared to take issue with his premise. ‘I learned how to cook from a woman, actually. We females are not as incompetent as some men seem to believe.’ She hadn’t meant to sound quite so stiff or so censorious. ‘I am pleased you are enjoying the fruits of my labour.’ That was hardly better.
He picked up his knife and fork. ‘I am indeed.’
Damian covertly eyed his dinner companion. He had stupidly ruffled her feathers, when he had intended to enchant her.
