Page 96 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
He shot me an amused glance before motioning for me to follow him out of the room. “Oh. I guess he’s… the butler-slash-cook? I’m not sure how else to describe him. He’s a part of the furniture, really.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Huh.”
“Huh? What’s huh?” His words were punctuated by the creaking of the kitchen door as he pushed it open.
“I don’t know. I guess when you say things like that and I’m in your big fancy house, it reminds me that you reallyarea fully-fledged, blue-blooded member of the aristocracy. I forget that when you’re arguing with me like a twelve-year-old.”
“In the interest of being that fully-fledged, blue-blooded member of the aristocracy, I won’t argue with you right now.”
“That’s just because you’re hungry.”
“Stop telling everyone my secrets.”
“There’s nobody here but us,” I pointed out.
Thomas pointed towards a round device by the sink. “Alexa is listening. I don’t need her knowing my secrets.”
“Well, in that case…”
“Stop it.”
With a soft laugh, I cast my gaze around the kitchen.
It was surprisingly normal sized for a property of this size.
What was I expecting? A giant commercial one?
Yes. Yes, I was.
Both the upper and lower cabinets were cream, and the countertops were a gorgeous oak wood that made the room feel bright, even though it was horrifically dark outside. Light green tiles covered the walls between the two sets of counters, and I hovered awkwardly at the island as Thomas wandered over to a pot in the corner.
“There’s some fresh bread in the breadbin over there. Would you mind grabbing it?”
Homemade soup?
Fresh bread?
Sod going home. I was moving in.
I retrieved the bread from the breadbin and took it over to the island, then paused as I caught sight of a fully decorated tree that had to be at least nine feet tall. “That’s a very fancy Christmas tree for the kitchen.”
Thomas turned his head towards the tree and let out a big huff. “Please direct all complaints to my mother.”
“I didn’t say I was complaining.”
“That’s right; I forgot you’re endlessly fascinated with Christmas lights, and Lord knows that tree has enough of them.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“What is?”
“The ‘endlessly fascinated’ part. I’m far more interested in things like, I don’t know.” I paused. “Cheese.”
“Huh.” He put the lid back on the slow cooker. “I did once see a snippet of old advice that said you may fascinate a woman by giving her a piece of cheese. It was something from the nineteenth century, I believe.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What is?”
