Page 48 of Miss Delectable
Ann took his coat and arranged it over the back of the chair at the desk, inside out, the better to absorb the fire’s warmth.
“Your hair,” she said, winnowing her fingers through his locks. “The wind has disarranged you.” That, and she wanted any excuse to touch him. Such a longing was novel and not entirely welcome—she had menus to plan—but she suspected her preoccupation with the colonel would not fade anytime soon either.
The memory of a short nap cradled in his arms plagued her. He’d spoken honestly about having no untoward designs on her person, but when his affection was so generously given, he didn’tneeduntoward designs to put her into a complete muddle.
Aren’t you ever lonely, Ann?
All the time.
Her admission had left her restless and discontent, also resentful of Aunt’s demand for menus. “Shall I put together a tea tray?” Ann asked.
“Might we be seated?” came from the colonel in the same instant. “No tea,” he said. “You spend all day toiling in a kitchen for others, and I did not come here to add to your work.”
She gestured him into one of the two wing chairs by the hearth. The sisters spent many an evening in those chairs, swaddled in shawls, reminiscing. Ann knew that only because one day a week the Coventry was closed, and thus she was free to join her housemates by the fire.
“A tea tray is not work,” Ann said.
“It’s not a frolic either.” Colonel Goddard filled the chair, his long legs reaching nearly to the hearth’s fender. “I had supper last night with your employer.”
“Was that a frolic?”
Again, the brief humor came and went in his gaze without touching his mouth. “Hardly. How well do you know Mr. Sycamore Dorning?”
“This is your ulterior motive? To quiz me about my employer?”Drat and perdition. “I don’t tell tales out of school, Colonel.”
The cat leaped down from the desk and appropriated a place on the colonel’s lap.
“He’ll get hair all over you.”
“Lending me protection from the elements. Have you ever considered the origin of that phrase, about telling tales out of school? I think of the boy who’s bullied, of which there are too many. He’s to value the privilege of being abused by his peers above the protection his elders might afford him if he tattled.”
“Or he’s to refrain from gossip. Mr. Dorning bullies nobody, though he can be both charming and emphatic. Why do you ask?” Very charming and very emphatic, which was fortunate when somebody had to jolly Jules Delacourt out of a surly mood.
“I put a matter to Dorning in confidence, and I am concerned he’ll nose about and make a bad situation worse. When I realized that trusting to his discretion might have been ill-advised, my next thought was, I wish I could discuss this matter with Miss Pearson. She is a woman of great good sense, and she will hear things at the Coventry that might bear on my circumstances.”
Ann had been valued for her ability to concoct rich sauces, for her subtle use of spices, for her hard work, though not nearly often enough. To be valued for her great good sense called to the girl whose papa hadn’t valued her for anything.
“What exactly is your situation, Colonel?”
“Should we have left the parlor door open?”
“Miss Julia and Miss Diana are off on their weekly trip to the lending library. They will stop at a tea shop and, if the weather stays dry, a yarn shop. This is their version of patrolling the perimeter, Colonel, for all the best tattle is to be had over books, tea, and knitting. You need not worry that we’ll be interrupted or overheard.”
The cat arranged itself in a perfect feline circle of contentment, the tip of his tail resting over his pink nose. The colonel gently stroked the beast’s back, and Ann envied the idiot cat those caresses.
Sorely.
“I am not concerned about being overheard,” the colonel said. “I was more worried about the proprieties. When last we met, I took liberties with your person. I have been prattling away over here, burdening you with my business, and all the while trying to figure out if an apology is in order.”
“The flowers were a peace offering?”
“If a peace offering is needed.”
“And if no such offering is required?”
“They are a token of my sincere esteem.”
Ann would have bet her best carving knives that Orion Goddard hadn’t brought flowers to any other woman, much less taken liberties with her person, for quite some time. That Ann had earned his esteem pleased her and sent all thoughts of menus, sauces, and spices right up the chimney.
