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“Yes, sir.” Her gaze ran the length of my torso. I felt her appraisal seep through my layers of clothing and squirm in my stomach, and I fought the urge to haughtily dismiss her.
I spread a small smirk over my lips and kept my gaze on her eyes. “Thank you, lass.”
Her cheeks mottled and interest sparkled in her eyes. It was not difficult to flirt, but I would keep my attentions reined in. Hopefully my feigned interest would speed her along in the kitchen.
The serving girl flitted away, her hips swaying dramatically, and I averted my gaze.
“Benedict Bradwell, in the flesh.” A man’s creamy voice slid under my skin. Frederick Keller. I would recognize his foppish nonchalance anywhere, and I followed the heinous ensemble he wore up to a hooked nose and slanted smile. His half-lidded eyes swept over me. “You’re far from home. Did you come for the fight?”
Fight? That certainly explained the magnitude of men in the taproom and the nearly full inn. I gave the present patrons of the taproom another sweep and saw now what my cursory glance failed to see earlier—the men gathered were mostly gentlemen. “Just passing through,” I told Keller.
He pouted. “Shame. I always did like to win your money. Can I persuade you to stay one more day?”
I laughed, giving him the cheerful Benedict he expected. The grin on my face felt raw and taut, but I persevered. “I’d hate to deprive you of such joy, but I’m afraid I’m far too eager for the comforts of home to delay another moment.”
“There are comforts to be had here,” he said, watching the serving girl sashay back toward us, Thea’s dinner in her hands.
“Nothing that appeals to me at present,” I said, taking the food and giving the woman her coins. I threw in a few extra, hoping she would not need to search for money elsewhere tonight.
“Too bad,” Keller said. “You can always change your mind.”
I shot him a smile and rose to my feet. “Another time, perhaps.”
Keller swaggered away, and I stole from the room before Thea’s dinner could grow too cold. When I reached the door to our room, I faltered in my resolve. She would not expect this of me. If I entered with a plate of food, she would be suspicious of my motivations or—given her flair for the dramatic—the plate itself. What reason could I devise so she would not be wary of me? I looked at the plate of unassuming ham and boiled potatoes, the roll teetering over the steaming meat.
I could tell her it was delivered accidentally, that the innkeeper mistook my ordering of one dinner as me ordering two, and that it had been paid for and we ought not to waste it. Surely she would believe such a tale. So long as it did not paint me in a favorable light, Thea would eat it up.
My curled fist pounded on the door, and I only had to wait a minute before Thea unlocked it and peeked out. When she saw me, she released the door and allowed it to swing wide before she turned back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hair was still plaited but uncoiled from her head, falling limply over her shoulder.
She eyed the plate in my hand. I entered the room, closing the door behind me, and lifted it like an offering.
But the carefully crafted lie lodged in my throat.
“I told you I did not want dinner,” she said quietly. Her letters sat folded on her lap, her fingers turning one of them over slowly, absently.
My shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “Then do not eat it. It is no trial to me if it grows cold. My belly is already full.”
“Good.”
She could not be in earnest. Of all the ridiculous, stubborn—
Her gaze dropped to the letter in her hands, and I swallowed my irritation. I could not understand the reason for her distress until she chose to bring me into her confidence and explain what awful news the missive entailed. Was her beau worrying her? His ardent pleas too much for her? Did she miss him? That idea sent a nasty discomfort through my gut.
I moved closer and set the plate on the small, rickety table beside the bed and lowered myself onto the spindly chair beside it. “I suppose we shouldn’t waste it. If you’re in earnest, that is?”
She looked from the food to me, and I saw the light of challenge brighten her previously dull eyes. “I would never lie to you.”
“Oh?” I lifted an eyebrow and took the roll, tearing a chunk from it and popping it into my mouth.
Thea swallowed.
It was almost painful to keep chewing, watching her watch me eat. “This is divine.”
“Of course.”
“And the ham . . .” I reached for the plate and cut a bite of the tough meat, sliding it into my mouth and chewing as though it was moist and delicious and not, in actuality, cold and dry enough to make me wish I’d brought a drink with me.
Thea did not take her gaze off me, and under the scrutiny of her round, blue eyes, I wished I had not begun this game.
