Page 19 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Six

Frederick Darrington’s smile was a dangerous thing, indeed. Like gazing into the sun for too long or drinking too many glasses of a delicious wine that sets one’s head to spinning.

Realizing she was staring, Lily dropped her gaze to his dove gray cravat and sent up a silent prayer that her cheeks weren’t as pink as she suspected they were.

Perhaps this arrangement wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Perhaps she should put an end to it now, before it even began.

Perhaps—

“Excellent,” Mr. Darrington said before she could say she’d changed her mind. “Then I shall return tomorrow morning. I would begin today, but I have my sister’s children with me, and I should get them home soon before Penelope begins to wonder where we’ve got to.”

Lily nodded calmly, though her stomach had swooped with relief. “Of course. Tomorrow will be fine.”

They truly could use his help, so she would not decline his offer, but she was grateful for the extra time to prepare and hopefully grow more comfortable with the idea of seeing him every day around the inn.

“Excellent,” he said again, that belly-fluttering smile still on full display. “Now, I understand you have some bread and cheese set aside for my sister?”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Come with me and I’ll gather it up for you.”

She led him through the dining room toward the kitchens, trying to ignore his nearness, his masculine scent, and the tingles scuttling up her spine, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

“Where are the children, by the by?” she asked over her shoulder.

“With your grandmother, milking Blythe.”

She smiled. Penelope’s children adored Blythe, not only because she was a sweetheart but because she was a novelty, too. They must have leaped at the chance to help Gran with the milking.

Lily stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the table where Penelope’s goods were waiting. Mr. Darrington paused in the doorway, but she could feel his gaze on her as she began placing wedges of cheese into a burlap sack.

Was he watching her movements? Was he looking at her hands?

Self-consciousness washed over her. She worked hard and her hands showed it, the skin rough and red, her nails clipped short. She was not a vain person, but her hands were an occasional source of displeasure for her. She used to have lovely hands, before she came to live at the inn, but now, well, they were a long way from lovely now.

“That bread looks delicious,” Mr. Darrington said as she slipped a loaf into the sack. “Did you bake it?”

“I did.” Pride swept through her, mingling with the pleasure his compliment had wrought.

“Do you enjoy baking?”

Lily disliked personal questions, but he seemed genuinely interested in her answer, and as they would be working together for the foreseeable future...

“I do, yes.” She tucked another loaf into the sack. “Which is still something of a surprise to me. I’d never baked so much as a biscuit before coming to live with my grandparents.”

She hadn’t given baking even a single thought before coming to the inn, but she’d taken to it with an ease that surprised her. And now, baking bread was one of her favorite chores.

“I just met your grandmother outside,” Mr. Darrington said, leaning against the door jamb. “She’s a charming woman.”

“Yes, she is. Everyone loves Gran.” Indeed, Lily suspected it was impossible not to love her.

“I haven’t met your grandfather yet,” he went on, and the comment held an unasked question.

“He died a year and half ago.” Her voice was even, though the words still made her chest ache.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his blue eyes somber. “He was a nice man?”

She smiled. Her grandfather, though a man of few words, was gentle and funny and wise. She missed him, but she was grateful she’d had those six months here at the inn, working alongside him and getting to know him better before he was gone.

“He was,” she said simply, before clearing her throat. “Well, here we are. This should be everything Penelope requested.”