“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s... spontaneity day!” He grinned at her.
She blinked at him. “What?”
He crossed the parlor in two strides and lifted a familiar-looking book from a side table.
It was the diary she’d brought him. With the schedule she’d teased could help him unbend a tiny bit.
He wasusingit.
Maybe.
She crossed her arms. “Why is your spontaneity calendar still right here in this parlor? Did you leave it behind and forget all about it?”
“I never leave anything to chance.”
“You pulled me into a random room,” she pointed out.
He smiled. “It was designed to look that way.”
The duke opened his journal and pointed at today’s entry, which read:
Miss Thorne will spontaneously arrive early.
Be ready with the grapes.
“It’s not veryspontaneous of me if it’s easily anticipated,” she grumbled, then read the list again. “‘Grapes?’”
Lambley gestured toward a long sideboard upon which a golden silk cloth covered a trio of odd-shaped mounds. With a flourish, he whisked the cloth away to reveal three impeccably polished silver-topped platters resting on trays filled with chopped ice.
He reallyhadbrought her into a room he’d specifically prepared in anticipation of her early visit.
“What grapes?” she asked again.
He lifted the first delicate silver lid to reveal a sprig of half a dozen dark purple grapes the size of blueberries.
“What a... feast,” she said faintly.
“Ihavesurprised you.” He grinned with satisfaction. “These grapes aren’t properly meant to be consumed the way one might eat a normal grape, but we’re being spontaneous.”
“They’re not normal grapes?”
“They’re the best seasonal grapes from my three favorite vintners. I have searched all over for the best wines to serve at my gatherings and these vineyards produce the best of the best.” He lifted the other lids.
She gazed at equally small bunches of equally small grapes.
He lifted one. “It took a bit of finesse to procure these choice specimens, but no challenge is too daunting for spontaneity day. Today we shall enjoy artisan-crafted wine from Florence, Spain, and France, and sample the very grapes each varietal comes from.”
Of course he would casually unveil an assortment of grapes from his favorite wineries, which had shipped sprigs of fresh fruits to him from three different countries, just so Lambley could surprise Unity on Planned Spontaneity Day.
It was extravagant and foolish and adorable.
“All right,” she said. “Tell me about your grapes and your wines.”
He uncovered a fourth platter farther down the sideboard to reveal a dish piled high with nuts, seeds, and bite-sized cheeses of all varieties. Quickly, he arranged a sampling—“to adjust the palate”—and placed it on a small round table between two armchairs.
Next, he arranged not two, but six crystal goblets. He uncorked three different bottles and poured an inch of wine into each of the glasses.
