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Her blue eyes widened with surprise. But she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I’ve always thought you were beautiful. From the first time I saw you.”
“Oh, come now. I won’t believe that. I was your best friend’s irritating older sister.”
“You were my best friend’s irritating andbeautifulolder sister. And I was the typical adolescent boy, unable to think about anything else. There were summers when just being in the same room with you nearly drove me out of my skin.”
Her eyes softened. “I never knew you admired me like that.”
“Oh, I admired you.” He looked her over. “I admired you a great deal, and often. Sometimes more than once a day.”
She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Se-bas-tian Lawrence Ives.”
By God, he was a selfish bastard. She’d spent more than an hour readying herself for his eyes alone, and all he wanted was to turn her about, lead her straight back up to the bedchamber, and give her a ravishing that would undo all her effort in a matter of seconds.
Sebastian dragged his thoughts back to proper gentlemanly behavior. He should not, would not make love to her tonight. He would banish the thought entirely.
Naturally, the next words from her mouth were, “I notice you assembled the bed.”
So much for banishment.
He took her hand, bowed over it, and kissed her fingers. “Lady Byrne. May I have the honor of escorting you in to supper?”
“Thank you, Lord Byrne. You may.”
Mary sent up a quiet prayer as he led her into the dining room, where the table had been set with the finest chipped plates and mismatched cutlery the cottage had to offer.
Please, let this work.
The gown seemed to have been a good start. If Dick and Fanny had managed a dinner that was the tiniest bit romantic, and if she plied him with a few glasses of wine, perhaps he would set down those shields composed of misplaced duty and loyalty, just for the night.
To the side of the room, Dick stood at ramrod-straight attention, holding a rather shabby-looking towel draped over his left forearm. His coat was buttoned, and he’d tied a red kerchief about his neck as a cravat. A severe part divided his hair into unequal halves—save for an errant cowlick that bounced with every mild stirring of the air.
He bowed deeply at the waist. “Milord. Milady.”
“Good evening, Mr. Cross,” Mary said, as Sebastian helped her into her chair. “This all looks so lovely. You and Mrs. Cross must have worked very hard.”
“Oh, aye.” Dick poured wine into their glasses. “But we’re not afraid of hard work, milady. Never did you meet such devoted servants as me and my Fanny.”
Sebastian reached for his wine, clearly sensing the theme of the dinner unfolding.One-Hundred-and-One Reasons Not to Sack Your Caretaker.
Dick brought out a tureen and a woven basket, over which had been draped a small square of linen. “Yer first course, milord and milady. Soup and pain.”
“Soup andwhat?”Sebastian echoed.
“Pain.” Dick ladled soup into Mary’s bowl.
Mary looked at the greasy beef broth. Then she met Sebastian’s inquiring gaze and shrugged in response.I have no idea.
“Don’t make no sense to me either, milord. But the missus says everything’s French tonight.” He waggled his fingers in a mocking gesture. “La-di-dah.”
As he left, he whisked the cloth off the basket between them, revealing the contents.
Bread. Or, as the French would call it,pain.
“Oh, dear.” Mary pressed a hand to her mouth. “This does not bode well.”
“Let’s just eat.” Sebastian raised his spoon and sipped from it once, then set it down. “On second thought, let’s not eat this.” He nodded in her direction. “How do you find the pain? Tolerable?”
