Page 29 of Crash Landing
He managed a chuckle, realizing he had walked in riled and takenit out on her when she had done nothing to deserve it…yet. “Then what are you going to do?”
“With your permission, I would like to sit with Mrs. Albright and review the menu for tomorrow’s tea.” She let out a breath. “Your footman delivered Lady Frampton’s invitation this morning.”
“You sent him out in this miserable weather?”
She stared down into her tea. “Yes, but it wasn’t raining hard at the time and he was back here by the time it started pouring. Still, I apologized profusely for sending him out in the rain. I suppose that still does not make it right, but I did not want to give you the chance to countermand the invitation.” She now looked up and met his gaze with one of defiance. “I saw no reason to cancel it, and where’s the harm in ladies having a friendly chat over tea? Let’s see how my afternoon with Lady Frampton goes before we worry about what to do next.”
“We? I love how I am now dragged into your assignment.”
“You don’t have to be. You are the one who insists on inserting himself. And before you puff up like a…like a big, puffing bird… Oh, what is that look now? Why are you rolling your eyes?”
“Apuffingbird? This from the chairwoman of Lower Bramble’s notorious ornithological society? You might have said like a grouse or robin, or a thrush. They puff up to keep warm or as a sign of aggression to ward off rivals.”
“Oh, good grief. I am trying to make a point here.”
He leaned forward so that their noses were almost touching. “So am I. If you are going to take on a disguise, you had better master it, or else you will be found out and shot.”
“Well, no one is going to shoot me except Frampton, and I’ll do my best to avoid that.”
“How? He’s already shot at you several times, and last night was meant to send you another message.” He sank back in his chair. “Or do those shots he fired at you yesterday not count because you fell outof a tree and they flew over your head? Had he realized you had fallen and landed on me, he would have aimed lower and killed both of us.”
“Stop being angry with me. I liked you much better when you were kissing me.”
He glanced around, hoping no one on his staff was listening. But they happened to be alone in the dining room. No one but Timmons was anywhere near, and he was standing at his post by the front door, too far away to hear what they were saying.
Edgar and Alvin were the footmen who usually attended the dining room at mealtimes, but he saw no reason to require their presence when those two had been up all night guarding the house, and he and Florence were competent enough to pour their own tea or coffee from a pot.
He would attend to Hermia if she chose to join them, although he suspected she was like most ladies of a certain age who preferred their breakfast served in bed. Would she even bother to get out of bed at all today?
“Will you ever kiss me again?” Florence asked, her expression turning soft and dreamy.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled, never mind that he was absolutely going to do this, assuming one of them did not die of gunshot wounds first.
“Well, you have my permission if ever you decide to tolerate me again.”
Tolerate her?
He wanted to toss her onto his bed and ravish her, which only proved he was going mad and probably already delusional.
Well, he was hungry and she looked delicious. Really luscious. She wasn’t even trying to look tempting, not with that serviceable gown of dark-green muslin that was buttoned to her throat. And her hair.Dear heaven.She must have done it up herself, because the pins were not going to hold that lovely mass much longer. The slightest breezewould have those silken curls spilling down her back.
“What would you like for breakfast?” He rose, grabbed her plate, and marched over to the salvers atop the buffet.
Her eyes widened and she cast him another endearing smile. “That is quite gentlemanly of you. Just some eggs and a slice of ham will do.”
“What else have you planned for today, besides preparing a menu that will take you all of three minutes to complete?” he asked while piling eggs onto her plate, and knowing he had to stop growling at her before she had even done anything to deserve it.
Well, she had gotten that invitation out to Lady Frampton.
He turned and scowled at her.
“Did I just call you a gentleman?” She sighed. “I take it back. You are being impossibly cantankerous again.”
He piled more eggs onto her plate.
“I tend to be a morning person,” she said, no doubt trying to engage in polite conversation, which might have worked were he not already worrying about what the day would bring. “I wake up cheerful and smiling. You will find me most pleasant company at the breakfast table.”
“I prefer to have my coffee in peace and quiet.”
