Chapter Five #3
“I’m the youngest of three sons—legitimate ones, that is,” he explained.
“Surplus to requirements, therefore. My older brother is the earl of Alverleigh, my second brother is in the diplomatic service, and I entered the army. But now that Boney is finally defeated I’m surplus to requirements there also. Ah, here is our breakfast.”
Mrs. Barrow entered, carrying a teapot, a coffeepot, and a jug, probably of milk, on a tray. She was followed by two small, ferociously clean boys, each one carefully carrying a tray containing silver chafing dishes. Callie stared. Her son had never carried a tray in his life.
The crown prince of Zindaria waiting at table. Papa and Rupert would have been utterly appalled.
Her Serene Highness, Princess Caroline of Zindaria, wanted to giggle.
The prince grinned at her, clearly enjoying himself, the mischief in his eyes conveying that he’d had much the same thought.
“That reminds me, Mr. Gabe,” Mrs. Barrow said, “I hired a few servants while I was visiting my mother.”
She set her tray down on the sideboard with a thump and fixed him with a contentious look.
“You won’t have any objection to that, I’m sure.
They’ll start tomorrow. Give us time to set everything to rights.
Harry will be arriving any day now with Lord knows how many grooms and ostlers, and I’ll be run off me feet with just the cooking.
Yes, Jim, put the hot dishes on those cork mats, otherwise they’ll ruin the varnish; careful now, don’t burn yourself.
Good lad. Now off you go and start toasting that bread. ”
She turned back to Gabriel, hands on hips and said, “There’s bacon and scrambled eggs and I did you some deviled kidneys, Mr. Gabe, knowing as you’re partial to them, so eat them while they’re hot.
I got three maidservants for the cleaning, and two footmen, and a scullery maid, so the next time breakfast is served in here it’ll be by a footman or a maid.
And Barrow reckons young Jim’s pa has been missing for some weeks, now, so I thought we could take him in and train him up for something.
Can’t leave a boy to starve. Enjoy your breakfast, ma’am.
I’ll send one o’them lads back in with toast in a trice. ” And she swept out of the room.
Callie slipped Gabriel a sideways glance to see how he’d taken this high-handed exceeding of her duties. Rupert would have exploded with rage. Even Papa would have dismissed the woman instantly.
He was convulsed…with silent laughter.
He saw her shocked look. “I know, I know,” he said. “But you see, she’s had me naked in the bath more times than I can remember.”
Her eyes widened and Gabriel burst out laughing again at her expression. “Not for twenty years or so, I hasten to add. The last time I was about Nicky’s age and scrubbed just as ruthlessly.”
“Oh! I see.”
He gave a furtive look around and added, “I know I ought to reprove her, but, well—” He sighed. “I’m frightened of women.”
“Hah! Frightened as a cat fears mice.”
“Fond of cats, are you? Me, too. Contrary, sensuous creatures. Like women.” He grinned.
“No, Mrs. Barrow more or less raised me, and I won’t reprimand her for her plain speaking, particularly since she’s right.
I’ve been taking advantage of her good nature, and my brother Harry will be here next week and who knows who else.
” He strolled to the array of dishes set out on the sideboard, picking up lids and peering at the contents.
“Can I offer you some of this excellent bacon? And eggs? And kidneys? Mrs. Barrow’s deviled kidneys cannot be beaten.”
“Just a little bacon, please,” she told him. She ought to have only tea and dry toast—she was cursed with a curvaceous figure and was very self-conscious of it. But the bacon smelled so delicious and it had been such a long time…
He filled two plates and set one in front of her. Hers contained a mound of bacon and some scrambled eggs. His plate contained even more, with deviled kidneys besides.
“Thank you.” There was far too much, of course, but she would just have a little. She inhaled the scent of bacon blissfully.
He drew out a chair on the adjacent corner to hers and sat down.
“I thought you were eating in the kitchen.”
“And leave you to dine here all alone?” He shook his head. “Besides, it will give us a chance to get to know each other better.” He gave her a look that brought back all the sensations she’d experienced in the stables.
“I don’t wish to get to know you better.” Realizing how rude that sounded, she added, “I shall be leaving here as soon as possible.”
“Really? Let’s discuss it later. Eat your breakfast while it’s hot,” he recommended.
She said a quiet grace and began to eat, very conscious of him seated only a few feet from her, those blue, blue eyes seeming to be on her each time she glanced his way. She was always self-conscious about eating in front of others.
Papa’s voice echoed in her head, as it did at most mealtimes. A lady does not eat like a horse, Callie, but picks at her food daintily, like a little bird.
With Papa’s critical eye on her, Callie never did enjoy a meal. No matter how delicately she picked at her food, no matter how often she came away from the table hungry, Papa’s gimlet eye was on her, and she always felt like a horse.
She cut herself a sliver of bacon, just a tiny, delicate morsel, then paused. She thought of that scene in the stable, not the one where he’d—she darted a look across the table—where he’d kissed her. What had happened just before that. When she’d lost her temper with him.
Papa would have said, A princess does not raise her voice, Callie. A princess is not a fishwife. A princess remains serene and dignified at all times.
Callie had lost her temper. She had raised her voice. For all she knew she’d even screeched like a fishwife—she’d certainly poked him in the chest like one. She had been neither serene, nor dignified.
And it had felt wonderful.
Callie stared at the bird-portion sliver of bacon on her fork.
All forms of pork are anathema to any female of taste. Rupert’s voice echoed in her head.
“Is something wrong with your bacon?” A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “Mine is delicious.”
Callie blinked at the man sitting across from her. “No. No,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s nothing wrong with it at all.” She stabbed her fork into the pile of bacon and cut herself a proper mouthful. She chewed it slowly, savoring it.
Heavenly.
She could feel his disturbing blue gaze and decided she didn’t care a rap for it. She ate another piece of bacon and another. She ate some of the scrambled eggs. They were creamy and delicious. She ate some more bacon.
He grinned at her. “Told you the bacon is good, didn’t I? I can’t tell you how I missed the smell of bacon—good, home-cured English bacon. There’s nothing like it.”
She looked down at her plate and blinked. She’d eaten the entire mound of bacon. And the eggs. And she felt wonderful. She’d been so hungry.
“I like to see a woman with a good, healthy appetite.”
She gave him a narrow look, not sure how to take his words. He was probably hinting that she’d eaten like a horse, but Callie didn’t care. It was none of his business—besides, he was supposed to like horses, so there.
Not that she cared what anyone thought of her anymore. She owed no obedience to anyone anymore. She was free, she told herself incredulously. Free to say what she liked, do what she liked, eat what she liked.
It was a heady sensation.
The door opened and Jim came in with a pile of toast followed by Nicky with honey, marmalade, and butter.
“Shall I butter your toast while it’s still hot?” Gabriel asked as the two boys bounced from the room.
“No, thank you.” She took a sip of tea: weak, black, and unsweetened.
He spread butter on the toast with a lavish hand. “Marmalade? Mrs. Barrow’s finest.”
Callie looked at the toast, melting with butter. She’d indulged herself with the bacon and eggs. Eating like a horse was one thing: like a pig was quite another. “No, thank you.”
“Honey then. Good choice. You’ll find it interesting as well as delicious. Our bees forage for nectar among the seaside plants and it gives the honey a unique flavor.” He drizzled honey on a slice of toast and passed it to her. She should not. She really should not.
Weakly she accepted it. She bit into the warm, crunchy toast and closed her eyes in bliss, feeling the honey and melting butter slide down her throat.
“Told you it was delicious,” he said, his voice oozing with satisfaction. “Nearly as delicious-tasting as you.”
Her eyes flew open. “You, sir, are a shocking flirt. One should be free of such things at breakfast!”
She blinked. She’d just reprimanded a man at his own table. She glanced at him from under her lashes.
He seemed amused. “Anything and everything is on the menu here at the Grange. Kisses before breakfast, flirtation as an appetizer.”
She wondered what he’d offer for the main course. And then was shocked with the direction of her thoughts.
“Careful, you’re dripping honey down your wrist.”
She snatched up her linen napkin and wiped the honey that had dripped onto her hand.
“I could always lick it clean for you—”
She gave him a warning look.
“Like a cat, I meant,” he said with mock innocence. “You like cats, remember? Lovely sensuous creatures, cats.”
Callie decided it was more prudent to become interested in the pattern of the curtains. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. She felt a little hot.
He certainly was a bothersome man.
He poured himself some more coffee and crunched through a pile of toast. She waited politely until he had finished, and the moment he had, she said, “Thank you so much for your hospitality and care, but we really should be leaving.”
“Stay a few more days.”
“Thank you, but it’s not possible.”
“It’s perfectly possible. Stay and rest. There are lilac shadows under those lovely eyes.”