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“Let’s cook both.”
Sheesh. “Who all are you planning to feed?”
“The two of us. Jonathan and Emelia, the lovebirds, are in California visiting family. I can’t be bothered to worry about Maman and Ignacio, and poor losers that we are, we have no one else to consider.” He shrugs. “We’ll have leftovers.”
He starts to slice the potatoes with a mandoline, dropping them immediately into a simmering pot that’s filled with milk and garlic. He’s preparing one of my favorite dishes: Gratin Dauphinois. Already, the kitchen smells divine.
“What about that woman you were attached to at your house a while back?” I ask. “The one in your kitchen I thought I’d have to pry you off of.”
He furrows his brows as if genuinely perplexed. “I don’t even remember who you’re referring to.”
Of course he doesn’t.
I start gathering what I’ll need to cook the chapon: fresh herbs, an onion, garlic, butter, lemons, sherry, and salt and pepper. Alexander and I spend the better part of the day in the kitchen cooking and listening to some of our favorites: Edith Piaf and Jean Sablon. We stave off our appetite with cheese and wine, enjoying two bottles of my vintage Chateau Margaux red blend.
At the end of the day, we have a good meal sitting at my kitchen table. When he’s finished, Alexander sets down his fork and knife and leans back in his chair to sip his wine.
I feel him studying me, and yet I ignore him, finishing off my food.
Still, he persists.
“What is it? You look as if you’re trying to solve all the world’s problems in that head of yours.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve let you get away with sulking all day because I didn’t want to rock the boat, but now I’ve had too much wine and I don’t give a damn if you plan on rearranging my face just for bringing her up. What will you do about Lainey?”
I take my time sitting back and dabbing my mouth with my napkin while he stares at me expectantly.
I shrug. “The way I see it, there’s only one option that would bring me happiness.”
I go back to eating, but he waves for me to get on with it.
It’s simple, really.
“Marry her.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Emmett
Fay Davenport’s home is as impressive as I assumed it would be. Right in the heart of Boston, the historical property has been restored and well cared for. When I knock on the front door the day after Christmas, a butler greets me.
“May I help you?” he asks with a heavy air of formality.
“Yes. I’m Emmett Mercier, a friend of Lainey’s. I was hoping to have a word with her.”
He looks unimpressed, inspecting me down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not in residence.”
I hear a familiar scornful voice behind him. “Who is it, Jacobs? Who could be rude enough to pay us a call the day after Christmas at such an early hour?”
Fay Davenport appears behind her butler with a sharply disapproving expression, but as soon as she sees me standing on her doorstep, her glare cools. In fact, she almost looks pleased.
“Ah, Jacobs, no need to block his way—this is Lainey’s betrothed.” She motions me forward impatiently. “Come in already. It’s freezing cold out there, and you’re letting all of my warm air out.”
Jacobs steps back to allow my entry, and then I’m led down the hall to a formal sitting room where Fay takes a seat on a couch and beckons for me to sit across from her.
“Coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee, please. Black.”
She nods to the butler at the door. “Make it two cups, Jacobs. Extra sugar for me. Thank you.”
Once he’s off preparing our coffees, Fay focuses her astute gaze on me.
“So you’ve come to see my granddaughter?”
“I’d like a word with her, yes.”
“After the stunt you pulled at dinner, I would think you’d want a bit more than a word.”
I almost chuckle.
“Yes, I think you’re right. She isn’t home?”
“Gone on a walk. I have no idea when she’ll be back. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep company with me instead.”
I’m not entirely sure if I mind that or not. I’m more than a little intrigued by Lainey’s grandmother.
She rests her hands primly on her lap. “If you’ve come to ensure she’s called off the engagement, there’s no need to bother. She seems to have already moved on.”
“That was rather quick…”
“Yes, well, it was all for show now, wasn’t it? It’s not as if she had developed real feelings for you.”
“You sound so confident of that.”
“I know my granddaughter.”
“I’d like to think I know her well too.”
Her brows arch in contradiction. “And yet you treated her with so little regard these last few months? I feared the day she would encounter a man like you. They had a word for it back in my day.”
I can barely hold back my smile. “I’d like to hear it.”
