Page 36 of A Very Roguish Boxing Day
He laughed.“Salop.It’s the sort of hot drink you get in the neighborhoodsIfrequent.”
She had never heard of it before.She eyed the weathered cart and the scratched urn, wondering if it was safe.“What is it made of?”
“Now that is a good question.”Tom dropped his voice low.“It’s steeped like a tea.Sometimes it’s made using sassafras bark, but if there isn’t any sassafras to be had, sometimes they use the roots of orchis or cuckooflower, or whatever they can lay their hands on.Lots of milk and sugar.It’s good, and it’s warm.”He gave her a lopsided grin.“Care to try it?”
His enthusiasm was enough to make her set aside her qualms.“I should be delighted.”
They approached the cart and Tom ordered them each a bowl.The woman recognized Tom and tried to refuse payment, but he insisted, slapping coins on top of her cart.
She filled two plain white bowls from her urn.Gwen smiled politely as she accepted hers, then nervously brought it to her mouth for a sip.“Oh!”she cried, startled by how good it was.The salop was sweet and spicy and creamy all at the same time.She thought she detected a hint of licorice.And it waswarm, thawing her numb fingers and spreading wonderfully through her belly.
Tom nudged her again.“Told you it was good.”He accepted his own bowl and drank half of it in one go.“Just what you want in this type of weather.”
Gwendolyn had to agree.Her own bowl of salop was soon empty.“Thank you,” she said to the woman, setting her bowl down on top of her cart.
Tom was counting out more coins.Most of the children had moved to a new section of the park where the snow was not yet depleted, but a couple of dozen had trailed after Tom.They now stood in a cluster around them, happy to be near their hero.
Tom placed some coins on the cart and gestured to the copper urn.“I’ll take the lot of it.Salop for everyone!”
It was difficult to say who was more delighted by this development, the cart owner or the children, who burst into a chorus of cheers andthank-yous.
“You’re welcome,” Tom said.“Merry Christmas, everyone.”
He offered Gwen his arm, and they headed toward the park’s exit.“This is one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had,” Gwen said.
He laughed.“We’ve done well for ourselves, haven’t we?Although I’m sorry you got dragged into the fray.I guess I didn’t think that bit through.”
She waved this off.“I’m not so high in the instep as to object to a good, old-fashioned snowball fight.”
Contrary to Tom’s assumption that she minded the snowball fight, Gwen had enjoyed herself tremendously.And she had especially appreciated the chance to see this side of Tom.This was her first opportunity to spend time with him outside of the bedchamber.He wasn’t at all what she would have expected of the heavyweight champion of England.He had been wonderful with those children.Gwen knew without a doubt that every single one of them would treasure the story of how they’d had a snowball fight withTom Talboton Christmas Day for the rest of their lives.
She also couldn’t help but notice that, while Tom had been stingy about buying a new dress coat for himself, he had been generous when it came to buying a hot drink for those children.
The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him, not just in terms of physical attraction, but as a person.Gwen couldn’t believe she was entertaining such a ridiculous thought, but if she were ever to marry, she hoped it could be to someone like Tom, someone kind, good-natured, and noble of heart.Given his working-class roots, he also would not disdain the fact that she kept bees, doing heavy work with her own hands, or her humble pursuits such as baking and making jam in her little cottage.
She sighed.It was a hopeless thought.What were the odds that Tom Talbot would want to marry an awkward bluestocking like her?
Tom squeezed her arm.“Everything all right?”
“Yes!”she squealed, somewhat guiltily.“Just, er… woolgathering.”
“I hope I didn’t get you too cold and…”
He trailed off as a young boy, perhaps five or six, came running up.He was still carrying one of the salop seller’s white bowls.The boy unselfconsciously hugged Tom’s leg, which was about all he could reach.“Thank you for the salop, Mr.Talbot, sir.”
Tom squatted down, returning the boy’s embrace.“You’re welcome.Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”The boy handed the bowl to Tom.“Here you go.”
Tom tried to return it.“Give this back to the lady with the… Wait!Come back!”
The boy had already disappeared around a corner.He turned to Gwen.“Wait right here.I’ll be back in a trice.”Bowl in hand, he jogged back toward the park.
Gwen stepped closer to one of the brick houses that lined the street in order to get out of the wind while she awaited his return.It was a small street and quiet on Christmas Day.Gwen imagined that the families inside were tucking in to their Christmas dinners.
Some movement at the top of the street caught her eye.It was a man in a brown coat.He was joined by a second man, and they both began striding purposefully down the pavement.
She squinted.It was difficult to say as her vision wasn’t very good even with her spectacles, but she was almost certain it was the same man she’d seen in the park, the one she’d thought was watching her.
