“Everything is prepared, my lord. Even found the almonds, just like you said.”
Helaine felt her excitement surge. “Almonds? Truly? I’ve never had them, but my father said they were delightful. They’re from India, aren’t they? He discovered them at…oh.” Her voice trailed away when she finally remembered what her father had said about them. Almonds were an aphrodisiac, and he had learned about them in a brothel. She wasn’t supposed to know that, of course, but her father had been so far into his cups he hadn’t realized he was speaking to his young daughter.
“They are just a nut, my dear,” said his lordship, his voice and his words designed to soothe her. “A particular favorite of mine and delicious when roasted. I shall be pleased to see your very first taste.”
She flushed and looked away. Of course he was lying. Almonds must cost a fortune, and no man bought such a thing without hoping to make good use of their other properties. But she was spared the necessity of answering as they were ushered into a cozy room with a cheerful fire, a table laid out for two, and a long couch with large pillows. The innkeeper took her gloves and wrap and set them on the table nearby. Lord Redhill shed his outdoor attire as well, and then took her hand flesh to flesh while the innkeeper slipped discreetly away.
She knew she was trembling. Seeing the very cozy nature of this room, she knew she would end up in his arms before the evening’s end. But even as the idea shook her, a part of her was already justifying it. What harm would a kiss be? Or a few more? She was already ruined, so no harm at all, and nothing more than they had already done.
He escorted her to a seat by the fire. He did nothing untoward, not even stroking her palm, and yet her heart was beating so fast. She found it hard to catch her breath.
“Would you care for some more wine?” he asked as she made a valiant attempt to gather her wits.
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
He poured and brought them both glasses. He sat beside her on the couch and took a drink, closing his eyes as he appreciated the taste.
“Not exquisite, but not so bad either.” He opened his eyes to look at her, so she hastily took her own sip.
“Lovely,” she said, though she hadn’t tasted a thing.
He looked at her a long moment, then he sighed. “You are nervous, Helaine, and I don’t wish you to be. What can I do to help?”
He understood! She smiled warmly at him and took another long sip from her wine. And when she was done, she managed to look at his face and not think of much beyond his beauty. He was a very handsome man in a very ordinary way. Nothing stood out, nothing made any part of his face more patrician or very angular. His nose was perfect for his face. His jawline firm without being harsh. And there was enough softness to make him appear relaxed, saving him from being too stern.
“You remind me of a stag I once saw,” she said abruptly. “He was in the distance, standing there looking out while his family grazed nearby. He had antlers out to…” She couldn’t even bridge the gap with her arms. “Well, anyway, they were huge. There was nothing unusual about the sight. We were forever seeing deer, so he was just the papa watching while his family ate. But he was stately, you understand, and powerful. I vow they were the happiest deer family in England. That is what you remind me of.”
He blinked at her words, obviously stunned. “I am at a loss,” he said. Then when she went to drink some more, he stopped her. His hand came around hers and he held the glass away from her mouth. “And I believe we should eat some dinner soon.”
She looked down at his hand, so large and so warm. He surrounded her wrist. He could likely break it just by squeezing his fingers. And yet, she never feared him. She could say that of no other man, not even her father. Sometimes when he got drunk, he could be violent. Not against people, but against the furniture, certainly. He used to throw the empty bottles. She’d learned early not to go anywhere near after he called for the third bottle.
“Do you ever drink to excess?” she asked as she looked at his hand.
“Depends on what you mean by excess. There were a few times when I was a stumbling drunk,” he said, “but that was many years ago now. Mostly it has been my sad task to call the carriages for my friends and to hold their heads while they…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you understand.”
She giggled. “Yes, I certainly understand. My father’s valet had that terrible task until he quit. My mother after that. Then no one at all.”
“Because he left?”
She nodded. “Because he left. But he was forever leaving, then turning up at the oddest times. I sometimes think I shall walk upstairs and find him sitting there, easy as you please, with a glass of brandy in his hand.”
“He sounds like an unsteady fellow.”
She snorted. “He was that and more. But he was charming, too, and he could always make me laugh.”
He smiled as if he understood. Too late, she realized that she was speaking too much, too freely. What dressmaker’s father had a valet? But then he was speaking and she became caught up in his words again.
“It’s easy to make little girls laugh,” he said. “When I came home from school, I used to spin my sister around such that her legs went flying. Or sometimes I’d wrap her in a bear hug of a greeting. She used to try to wriggle free, but I held on tight until she complained that she couldn’t breathe. But in truth, it was I who was breathless. Gwen doesn’t look it, but she has strength in her arms. I used to tell her she had muscles like a sailor.”
“You did not!”
“I most certainly did. I think that is why she has picked that baron of hers. He’s tall, but still scrawny. I think she could best him in a fight.”
Helaine recoiled in mock horror. “That’s terrible! To say such a thing of your sister.”
“Oh, but she’ll say it herself, you know. My sister is no shrinking violet, and caring for my mother is no easy task.”
“Is she bedridden, then?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. When the headaches are bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It has been this way since I was a child. My mother is frail; my sister is not.”
“Your father is a charming rogue, but you are not.”
He arched his brows. “Are you saying I am not charming?”
“I am saying you are not a rogue.” When he didn’t respond, she answered his unspoken question. “Yes, I have learned a little about your father, the Earl of Willington. A jolly good fellow, by all accounts. Has the devil’s own luck turning investments around. Which means, I believe, that he buys terribly stupid things and yet you manage to make them profitable.”
He looked at her a long moment. “You are very well informed.”
“You told me as much when we first met. Plus, I am very good at listening to your sister. She is very fond of you.”
“Even if she calls me harsh and dictatorial.”
“Even so.”
“Humph,” he returned. And then there was no more talk as the innkeeper brought them their dinner. He laid it out: quail with a sweet glaze, potatoes split and swimming in butter, and winter apples cooked with a covering of sugar. It was a feast the likes of which she had only heard about but never seen, much less tasted. And when she looked back at Lord Redhill, he merely smiled as if he knew how much of a treat this meal would be for her.
“You said simple stew.”
He gestured to another bowl as the innkeeper set it on the table. He lifted the lid and the scent of a savory beef stew filled the room.
“Of course,” she laughed. “I should not have doubted you.”
The innkeeper ducked away while Lord Redhill took her hand and escorted her the two steps to the table. He held out her chair for her, poured her more wine, and then seated himself across from her.
“But where are the almonds?” she asked. Truly she didn’t really care. There was more than enough here to delight her for years to come. But she had to say something, and that was what came to mind.