Page 41 of Charming Artemis

He sat gingerly on the side of the bed, facing her. “A tray’s being sent up.”

“Thank you.”

“And there’s a bit of a treat for you coming along with the meal.”

She set her book aside and eyed him with curiosity. “What is the treat?”

He shrugged a little. “It’s a surprise.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “What is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Artie. If I did, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

She leaned forward, half sitting, half kneeling. “Tell me, Charlie. Do.”

He shook his head.

“You mean to tease me?” She was grinning. Artemis, he was discovering, took particular delight in spontaneous larks. They had that in common.

“I mean to make you guess,” he said, his heart as light as it had been during their game of catch us, catch us.

“Is it something I’m particularly fond of?” she asked.

“It is.”

She pressed her hands together, touching them to her lips as she thought. “Bread pudding?”

He shrugged.

A grin spread over her face. “I do hope it is bread pudding. I adore bread pudding.”

“What are your other guesses?” He had accidentally stumbled upon the perfect formula for learning more about his bride, and he meant to utilize it.

“Peppermint candies?”

He made mental note of that but made no effort to stop her guesses.

“The lavender-colored flowers that are often in vases at Brier Hill,” she said. “They have pointed petals, light purple at the tips but fading to dark in the center. And a green crown tops it. I’ve never seen any flower like those.”

“Love-in-a-mist,” Charlie said.

“Is that what they’re called?”

He nodded.

“Do you also know the name of the... ?” Her mouth twisted a bit as she thought. The reigning diamond of Society looked undeniably adorable in that moment. “The fuzzy ones. I can think of no other way to describe them. They’re a deep purple or pink, and there are dozens and dozens of tiny fuzzy flowers on each stalk.”

“Those are called queen-of-the-meadow. My uncle Stanley sent back seeds when he was in America fighting in the war with the former colonies. Years later, my parents planted them at Brier Hill, and they’ve grown there ever since.”

“I know the little blue ones,” Artemis said. “They are forget-me-nots.”

Charlie nodded. “They are my mother’s favorite.”

“I don’t know which flower is my favorite.” Artemis actually leaned a little bit against him, though he didn’t know if she realized it. “I’ve never given much thought to the question.”

A knock echoed off the door. He stood and crossed to it. The proprietress stood on the other side, a generously laden tray in her hands. He stepped aside to let her in. She crossed to the table not far from the door and set the tray down.

“Thank you,” he told her as she left, and he received a maternal glance of approval in return.

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