She smiled, then pursed her lips in thought. “Very well, another. Do you rise early or late?”
“Early,” he said at once. “Years of habit. And you?”
“Late,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose. “I dread the morning. Always have.”
He chuckled low in his throat, and the sound made her insides flutter.
“Your turn,” she said firmly, pointing a biscuit at him as though it were a weapon.
He folded his arms, considering. “If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”
She blinked, startled by the unexpected seriousness. After a pause, she said softly, “Italy. I should like to see Rome, the old ruins, the paintings. To walk where history still whispers.”
His eyes lingered on her face, and for a moment, the air grew heavier. “Rome would suit you.”
Her cheeks warmed, so she hurried on. “Another question. Dogs or cats?”
“Dogs,” he replied with certainty. “Though I suspect you prefer cats.”
“I do.” She laughed lightly. “Stubborn, independent creatures. I admire them.”
“Just like their mistress,” he murmured.
He tilted his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “What is the last thing that made you laugh until you cried?”
Her mind flew to Cordelia tripping over a footstool and somehow turning it into a dramatic performance worthy of the theatre. The memory made her giggle again. “Cordelia. Always Cordelia.”
He smiled too, faint but genuine, and for a moment it felt… easy. Silly, awkward, but strangely intimate, as if they had stumbled into a world where there was no weight of titles, no shadowsof past mistakes, only questions, biscuits, and the warmth of candlelight.
Matilda tilted her head, mischief glimmering in her grey eyes. “Do we feel like friends now?”
Jasper leaned back against the table, considering. At last, his lips curved. “We are smiling at each other. I’d say that means we’re as close to friends as it gets for two people who cannot stand each other.”
The line made her laugh, and a soft chuckle escaped her before she could stop it.
But then he shook his head with mock solemnity as if he had just remembered something. “Oh, but we cannot be friends just yet.”
Her brows arched. “And why not?”
He strolled to the sideboard as if it were his own kitchen, lifted the jug there, and poured two cups of milk. With a flourish, he offered one to her. She accepted it warily, though her lips twitched. Then, to her surprise, he held out a biscuit as well, placing it neatly atop the rim of her cup.
“There,” he said. “Now we may be friends. A true initiation: milk and biscuits, stolen at midnight.”
She shook her head at his ridiculousness, but the warmth spreading through her chest made it impossible not to smile.They sat together at the table, cups in hand, and on his cue they both bit into their biscuits at the same time.
Jasper chewed thoughtfully, then leaned closer. “All right. My turn for questions. If you could be any animal for a day, which would you choose?”
Matilda nearly choked on her milk. “I like that one.”
He grinned. “I’m listening.”
After a pause, she said, “A bird. Something small and quick, so I could fly wherever I pleased.”
“Of course,” he said. “And I’d be a hound. So, I could chase you.”
She rolled her eyes, but laughter bubbled up despite herself. She looked away quickly, reaching for another biscuit to steady herself. Matilda brushed crumbs from her fingers, her heart thudding as though it already knew the danger in what she was about to do.
“Very well,” she said softly. “Since we are friends now… I may ask you a serious question.”
