Page 21 of The Sweetest Season
“Oh,” Beatrice said.“You should not get your hopes up.”
“Too late, Miss Holliday.”
He led her into the dining room, which looked west over the Schuylkill River to where the sun was setting.The room had been decorated for the season, with swags of holly and evergreens hung from the mantel, and wreaths of pine on the doors.Even the table was adorned with sprigs of holly and ivy placed strategically along the snowy white tablecloth.
Slanting light from the window caught the crystals in the chandelier and sconces on the walls, casting glittering rainbows around the room.Candles already burned in anticipation of nightfall.It was absolutely beautiful, but all Beatrice could think about was how she was going to ruin everything during the dessert course.
Noel seated her, and the first course was brought out.Throughout the meal, she barely tasted anything, her mind locked on the inevitable final course.
“Miss Holliday?”
She looked at Noel, who had evidently said her name more than once.“Forgive me.My mind wandered.What were you saying?”
His eyes searched her face.“I was saying that I failed.”
“Failed?At what?”
“You asked me to paint something I couldn’t see.”
“What happened?”
“I kept trying to paint the same thing—you.And each time, I hated the painting.It never looked like you at all.I realized how much I need to see you.”
“You painted that first one with no difficulty.”
“That was only a study, an impression.I want to—” He broke off as the maid entered to clear the plates.“Ah, this means your cake is next to arrive,” he said happily.
Beatrice was in agony.The cake came out on a silver stand, carried by the maid, who placed it carefully at the middle of the table.
“That will be all,” Mr Forrest told the maid with a particular formality.“I hope Miss Holliday will be kind enough to serve this course.”
The maid gave a tiny curtsy and withdrew, closing the doors behind her.
“Miss Holliday?”he asked after she didn’t move for a moment.
Beatrice stood up mechanically.Using the heavy silver knife provided, she cut the cake.One slice, two slices.
Then Noel was there beside her, taking one plate for himself.“I couldn’t wait,” he said.“You don’t mind?”
“Don’t eat that,” she burst out as he was about to put the first bite in his mouth.“It’s not what you think.”
He paused.“Did you lace it with poison?”
“No.” She glared at him.“But…you would not like it.I made it deliberately so you’d hate every bite.”
“Why?”
Bea bit her lip, then said, “Because you had the audacity to propose me as a flavor when you’d obviously had a preferred flavor of woman all along.”
“What?”He looked completely astonished.“What do you mean, Beatrice?”
“Your young lady you just visited in New Jersey.The one who wouldn’t leave your side during your captivity!The one you obviously kept in touch with and dashed back to see the moment you were feeling virile enough to do so!WhileIwas meant to stay back in my kitchen and bake you a sweet for your return.”
Noel’s mouth dropped open as the words rushed out of her.
“Are you just going to stand there?Did you think there were no more gossips in Philadelphia?Or are you going to deny that you specifically went to call on this…what’s her name?”
“Isabel,” he said at last.“Isabel Hemming.”
