“Here you are,” he said indulgently.
Alex let out a resigned sigh as she accepted her plate but after only one bite the sigh turned into one of pleasure. It was just a bit of bread and cheese, but dear heavens, it wasdelicious.
Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “That good, eh?”
“Yes,” Alex said in between bites, which was horribly vulgar behavior on her part, but he only smiled some more.
Lucien then took a bite and let out his own sound of pleasure. “I think the monsieur may actually have been too humble. This is exquisite.”
They ate in a pleasant, companionable silence, only stopping to encourage the other to have more of the cheese or bread, or to try it with a slice of pear. Alex had thought it almost too much food at first, but before long they had finished every last crumb. She let out a contented sigh and sat back in her chair. Lucien was staring thoughtfully at the empty hamper.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “It’s only just now occurred to me that I musthave kept you from enjoying a glorious multicourse meal with this simple fare.”
Alex huffed a laugh. “Hardly. Most evenings I have a tray in my room.” Only after she spoke did she realize how pathetic that sounded. “Because everyone is usually out.” But that explanation didn’t really help either. “And… I prefer it that way,” she added with a determined little nod.
Lucien’s mouth curved. “I prefer eating alone too. Aside from the present company, of course.”
Alex glanced away as her cheeks flushed. “You must think I’m a horrible curmudgeon. Most people would love to dine with my parents or Freddie, while I try to avoid it as much as possible.”
It wasn’t as simple as that, but Alex didn’t know how else to explain it. How could someone love their family more than anything in the entire world and also find them completely exhausting most of the time?
When she dared to look back at Lucien, he was staring at her with a thoughtful expression. “Their hospitality is legendary, and rightfully so,” he conceded. “But I can understand the desire for some peace and quiet, especially after working all day.”
“Yes. Exactly,” Alex said, brightening. “But my family could never see it that way. They always maintained that I was rejecting their company.” Simply saying the words was like poking at a sore spot one had forgotten about.
“When I was younger my father always made sure to dine with us as much as he possibly could because he worked so much and he enjoyed it. I think my parents assumed the tradition would continue once I began working for him. But instead…”
Alex pursed her lips, unable to finish.
She wasselfish. Aspoilsport. Astick in the mud.
Her mind ran through the most hurtful criticisms her family had made over the years while she gripped the arms of her chair, waiting for Lucien come to the same conclusion as everyone else.
“Instead, you needed something different,” he said gently. “I’m sorry you’ve been so misunderstood. And by your own family. That sounds difficult.”
Alex swallowed. She must have eaten something spoiled because surely she was hallucinating right now. That was the only explanation.
Lucien peered at her. “Alex, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. I did. Only I…”
He smirked. “Don’t believe me?”
“Something like that.” Alex managed a small smile in return, but it was time to move the subject away from her. “Now, why doyouprefer to eat alone? A rather strange preference for a man who ran a supper club,” she said archly.
Lucien chuckled. “Well, maybe ‘prefer’ isn’t the right term. But I’m used to it.” Alex gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. “Born out of necessity, I suppose. My parents both worked long hours. Having supper together, the three of us, didn’t happen very often.”
“Oh.” Alex felt like an idiot—and a selfish one at that given that it had been her own family that necessitated the separation in the first place. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
But Lucien waved a hand. “It’s fine. I have very fond memories of sitting at the table in the kitchen of Atkinson House eating my supper as my mother doled out instructions to the staff. It was like watching a symphony conductor.”
The late Mrs. Taylor had run her kitchen with the kind of quiet mastery Alex couldn’t help but admire even as a young girl.
“She was an impressive woman,” she said. “And a genius with a pastry bag.”
“Yes,” he murmured.
