Page 69 of Harpy of the Ton
Rather than scowl, Bella gave a smile of triumph. “That’s where you’re wrong, oh munificenthusband.”
She stacked the bowls while he sat back and watched, then she cleared the table, casting him the occasional glance as if she expected him to help.
Bugger that—she had a debt to pay.
Then she opened the range and pulled out a pie.
He wrinkled his nose at the warm aroma of apples.
“You baked apie?” he asked.
“Didn’t you say I always cook for you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t expect…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Serve me a slice.”
“Apleasewouldn’t go amiss.”
“Why?” he asked. “You’re my wife.”
“Unfortunately, I am,” she said. “If you lack manners, that’s your misfortune—but you should set our children an example.”
“Our children?” he said. “But they’re…”
They’re not yours.
He checked himself. “Very well—serve me a slice,please.”
The irony was not lost on him that she, of all people, saw fit to lecture another about manners.
She cut a slice, placed it on a plate, and pushed it toward him before cutting a smaller slice for herself.
He shoveled a forkful of pie into his mouth and let out an involuntary groan. The apples were firm, yet soft, their natural sweetness complemented by an exotic taste he couldn’t quite place. It was delicious.
Then he caught the pride in her eyes.
No—that won’t do.
He pushed back his chair and beckoned to her. “Wife, remove my boots.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“It’s what you do when I come home. Normally you do it before supper, but I’ll let that slide tonight.”
“Oh, you will, will you?”
“It’s never bothered you before.”
“Or perhaps it did, and you were too ignorant to listen to my protests.”
He laughed. “That’s my Bella—feisty before she yields. I do love that in you.”
“And what is there inyouto love?”
“The pleasure of serving me.”
She eyed his boots. “I’ll suffer it this once,” she said, “if only to ensure you don’t cover my floor with muddy footprints.”
“Yourfloor?”
