Chapter 9 Genevieve #2
“Unfortunately, I’ve never baked a thing in my life, so no, that isn’t my secret hobby. But I will admit to having impeccable taste when it comes to pastries. One of the best palates on the continent, in fact.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Clemmy calls from behind the counter, clearly eavesdropping, before she sets four plates on the table. Each is laden with delicate pastries—one filled with cream, another a cinnamon roll dripping with thick white frosting.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” I say, choosing the cream-filled pastry.
“Not at all. These are simply what remained after the morning rush. Prince Leland, do you have a preference in tea?”
“Anything strong will do. We had quite the night last night.”
“Didn’t we all?” Clemmy replies with a grin. “I was there—and very disappointed I didn’t get more time with you, Genny. What kind of friend are you?”
“You know I’d have run to your side if it weren’t for my duties.” The truth is, I was completely distracted after meeting Mr. Blackwell before the first dance and trying to focus on the engagement announcement.
She laughs, patting the flour from her apron. “Don’t worry, I was far too occupied with my gorgeous husband to notice you snubbing me.”
Of course she was. Even after a year, the two only have eyes for each other. I hope their devotion never fades. Clemmy deserves it.
“Regardless, I should have made an effort,” I murmur, and she shrugs, her black curls bouncing with the movement.
“I’ll brew your tea and let the two of you become better acquainted.”
Leland bites into a raspberry-topped confection.
Cream smears across his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out.
He lets out a small moan before bringing his attention back to me.
“Based on my superior palette, I can say with unquestionable assurance that this is one of the most exquisite things I’ve had the honor of tasting,” he remarks with a chuckle.
“Tell that to Clemmy. She’ll be over the moon to have a foreign prince praise her baking.” I wish his little sounds—the way he licks the cream—stirred something inside me, but instead I force a smile. Nothing. Why can’t I feel more for this man than a friendly indifference?
“I think I will. She has an openheartedness that so many of us lost a long time ago,” he continues before taking another bite and letting out a soft groan of pleasure. The way he eats his pastry is utterly improper, and I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.
I take a bite of my own pastry, trying to ignore my wayward thoughts. It really is delicious. “I don’t think I’ve seen you not want to make someone smile yet. Tell me, is there anyone you don’t like?”
A shadow crosses his handsome face. “You know what it’s like to have a gift that controls others’ emotions. My gift—bringing peace and reducing conflict—has made me naturally more inclined to bring happiness to others.”
“So it’s not always what you’d prefer to do?”
He meets my gaze and shrugs, as if he too struggles with the weight of his gift. “It limits my own natural responses at times. I find that, over time, I’ve accepted my role as the one in the room who can bring a sense of calm, or a slight smile to someone sad.”
“Does your gift work through touch?” I ask, curious if that’s why I’ve felt instantly comfortable around Leland while also feeling nothing romantic.
“It’s more potent that way, but no. Just my presence can bring about feelings of well-being and peace in others. I think my sister—and possibly your mother—may be the only ones immune to its powers. And Mr. Blackwell, for that matter. The man is unflappable, especially for a redblood.”
I let out a small, strangled cough at the mention of Kieran. There’s a fearlessness in him that wasn’t there when he was younger, as though very little can stir him now.
Clemmy sets down the teapot and pours us both cups of stoutly brewed black tea into delicate porcelain cups before she smiles and walks away. She’s no blueblood, but she doesn’t need a gift to recognize when her customers are deep in conversation.
“I wonder if it has something to do with their own willpower,” I muse, curious about what happened to Kieran to give him such a resolute disposition.
Leland takes a sip of his tea and studies me thoughtfully. “Most likely it does. My sister has closed herself off emotionally to everyone—including me. But what about your gift? You never wrote about it, although I have to admit, I’ve heard rumors.”
A twisting sensation settles in my stomach. Mother’s words come back to me, urging me not to allow Leland to experience my gift before our wedding.
“It’s—it’s something I prefer to avoid. After I realized how powerful my gift is, it became more like a curse.”
Leland reaches for my gloved hand, taking it in his. “I understand. Of course, I’ve had similar effects with my own gift. I wonder—would you allow me to experience it before our wedding night?”
My body stiffens, and I have to work not to pull away. What does he expect me to say? Then I take a deep breath. This is fine. We need to work through our differences, and the guilt of keeping so much from him weighs on me.
“Perhaps,” I reply, taking a drink of my tea to clear my mind. “I think it would be best if we continued to get to know one another better first. There’s a park nearby with some beautiful gardens. Shall we make our way there?”