Page 44 of The Confessions of a Lady
God, he wanted to push her beyond this ridiculous display of decorum. Force her to speak her mind as she was usuallyso prone to do. Throw down his gauntlet, confident in the knowledge she would retaliate with equal passion.
Instead, she wanted to play the subservient maid. Fine. He could adjust tactics. He was a lieutenant general, after all. If anyone knew about military strategy, it was Liam. Because this felt like a war. And he was determined to give her a worthy battle.
‘What I wish, Miss Smith, is hardly appropriate for a marquess to admit to his maid.’ He gestured to one of the wingback chairs. ‘Your ankle must be hurting. Please, sit. If you’d like to hear what I actually want, I shall tell you in detail.’
Penny’s eyes widened.
The first volley has been sent, sweet Penny. How will you retaliate?
‘A maid does not sit in front of her employer.’ Penny folded her arms over her chest, the first sign that her sharp tongue was readying to engage in witty warfare.
‘Then don’t be my maid tonight. And I won’t be your employer. You will be Penny. And I shall be Liam.’
‘If you are not my employer, then I need not follow your commands.’
A worthy counterattack.
‘True. So, I will not command you. I will ask. Will you please sit and share this meal with me? I’d wager you have yet to eat your supper.’
She huffed out a breath. His guess was right, but she didn’t want to admit it.
‘Come, Penny. What harm is there in sharing a plate?’
So much harm. Because I want to share more than my food with this woman.
Liam shut off that dangerous line of thought and walked over to the tray. He lifted the cloches, one by one.
‘Roasted goose. Pheasant pie. Peas. Honeyed carrots. Crispy potatoes. Vanilla blancmange to end with something sweet. Far more food than I can possibly manage on my own. It would be a shame for such a delicious meal to go to waste.’
Penny emitted a strangled sort of scream. ‘You are impossible! Fine. I shall eat your stupid food, but I won’t listen to whatever it is you claim to want. If I am Penny and you are Liam, then your wants are no longer my concern.’ She limped over to the chair and sat heavily, sighing as she did.
Liam’s fingers twitched to lift her skirt and check her ankle, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. Her eye was black, but the swelling was starting to abate. Thankfully the cut to her cheek had been minor, even if it had bled copiously, and was healing remarkably well. An errant urge to find the men he released and punish them for every moment of pain Penny suffered rushed through him. Instead, he reached out a shaking hand and filled the single plate sitting on the tray with heaping portions of every option Mrs O’Brian had provided and forced his body to behave. Pulling the second chair closer with his free hand, their knees almost touched as he sat down and held a silver fork out to her.
Penny hesitated. ‘You should eat first, my lo… umm, I mean, I’ll take whatever is left.’
‘Liam. Not lo-umm. And a lady is always served first.’
Penny snorted. ‘I’m about as close to a lady as you are to a chimney sweep.’
Liam frowned. ‘That is the problem, isn’t it? What exactly separates you from any lady of the beau monde?’
Penny reached for the fork and scowled at him, brandishing the cutlery like a weapon. ‘As if you don’t know. Let’s see… what separates me from Lady Drake. Or the Duchess of Dorsett. Or any other countess, baroness, viscountess, or marchioness. Education. Bloodlines. Wealth. Land. Prestige. Power. Everything. I am no lady, nor will I ever be. I’m notsitting here because I have some misconception of my place in this world. I’m sitting here eating your dinner because only a fool would pass up the opportunity to taste one of Mrs O’Brian’s pies.’
Liam nodded. ‘And you are no fool.’
He couldn’t say the same for himself. Because the thoughts running riot through his mind of what he’d like to do with the vanilla blancmange and Penny’s delicate skin were most foolish indeed.
Penny used the side of the fork to cut a wedge out of the pheasant pie. Handing Liam the fork, she picked up the flaky pastry and ate it with her hands, eloquently proving her point about their differences. She wasn’t a lady, and she wasn’t going to eat like a lady.
Not one to be outdone, Liam cut his own piece of pie, put the plate and fork on the small side table between their chairs, and took a massive bite. Pastry flaked over his shirt, catching in the creases of his breeches.
See, Penny. We are not so different.
Penny rolled her eyes and took another bite of pie.
‘I have a confession, Penny. And as someone who claims no fealty to any particular god, I find myself in need of someone to hear my sins and offer me absolution. Are you up to the task?’
Penny’s eyes widened. He watched her throat contract as she swallowed her mouthful of pie and then coughed.
