“You like him.” Jane’s answer was perfectly bland, but an ocean of subtext lingered beneath the polite tone.
“I don’t evenknowhim.” And that was the truth.
“Is that a requirement?” Jane’s forthrightness, though it might seem bordering on blunt, served her well. Perhaps it was because she spoke without judgment, relying solely on her wry observations. “Nevertheless, his presence proves beneficial.”
Jane was someone who spoke the truth, with insight that could pierce through obstructions or deflections. It was why having her here was so vital. Her cousin and her friend were honest with her in a way that made her trust herself as she never did in London.
As they waited in the dining room, Lizzy accepted the offer of a drink, swirling the Madeira in the crystal glass like she could read her fortune inside.
And then, as if summoned by her thoughts, Mr. Taylor appeared, filling the doorway—and her mind. The clothing hugged his large frame, the navy wool jacket with its fitted silhouette emphasizing his stature. Beneath it, a gray herringbone waistcoat adorned a crisp white shirt topped with a loosely tied cravat. Histrousers clung to his muscular thighs, further emphasized by a pair of polished Hessian boots.
The sight left her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Darling, close your mouth before you catch a fly.” Georgie beckoned to Mr.Taylor. “Right here, we’ve prepared a place setting for you. Don’t be timid.”
Seizing the opportunity provided by Georgie’s assertiveness, Lizzy surreptitiously dabbed at her chin with a deft flick of her wrist, checking for any sign of drool. To her relief, there was no mortifying moisture leaking from her mouth.
It wasn’t as though Mr.Taylor had been entirely without appeal in his previous appearance, be it squelching in the swamp or navigating the woods. On the contrary, he possessed a certain charm. However, seeing him now, attired like a country gentleman, odd haircut notwithstanding, sent a shot through her, as precise as an arrow. It was as if he were suddenly more within reach.
He sat in the chair beside her. “A man dressed me upstairs,” he murmured, leaning close. “Like I was a little child.”
Overhearing his comment, Jane responded, “It was merely a bit of guidance to ensure you get it all right.”
“I say, you look marvelous,” Georgie chimed in. “Don’t you agree, Jane?”
“The effect is tidy and refined, and no one could cast a shadow of impropriety on you.” Jane poked at the slice of beef. She never ate enough. Georgie insisted she take some berries, bread, and butter. While they good-naturedly squabbled, Lizzy noticed that Mr.Taylor kept fidgeting.
“Is everything all right?” she murmured, helping herself to a pasty and a little salad.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“You wish to take a bath?” she whispered. “At this precise moment?”
“No. The guy upstairs told me to go in a porcelain bucket in the corner of the room.”
“I see. You mean to relieve yourself,” Lizzy remarked, edging slightly closer. She caught his scent. Despite her writerly ambitions, she found herself unable to conjure an adjective better than “good.” He smelled good. Such a feeble word for a scent that was so much more than that.
She froze.
Here he was discussing chamber pots, and she was tempted to bury her nose in his neck and inhale. This was a fine form of madness.
What she should have said was that this wasn’t a suitable conversation for a lady and a man to have anywhere, let alone at a dining table. But she didn’t know what they had in the future—apparently not chamber pots.
“Yes, and I used it, but it’s weird. I don’t want to leave it sitting there.”
“A servant will come. It’s probably already dealt with.”
He grunted. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“You could use the privy. It’s located outside, near the stables. As much as I wish to claim curiosity about such private matters, I’d rather not be a liar.”
The fact that she could draw laughter from him, coupled with the way his shoulders shook, as if the noise traveled through his whole body, pleased her more than she liked to admit. She took a small, deliberate sip of wine, recognizing the need for caution. There was something about being in this man’s space that lit her up like a candelabra. She’d barely had more than a few mouthfuls of Madeira, so the giddiness couldn’t be attributed to that.
Blotting the side of her mouth with the cloth napkin, she caught him in a stare, his focus lingering on her lips. “Oh dear.” She brushed her fingers over them. “I don’t have food on my face, do I?” He shifted his gaze to his own plate, suddenly engrossed in chasing peas around in a shallow pool of gravy.
“These are excellent boiled potatoes. Compliments to whoever among you is the chef.”
“We didn’t cook this meal.” Jane turned toward him sharply. “Georgie can afford staff.”
