Page 30 of His Revelation
“Come along, Tiffany. We should have a half-hour to stretch our legs and get some luncheon before we have to board the next train.”
It took a moment to realize she was staring at his bare legs, and when he cleared his throat, she blushed and glanced away.
Interesting.
After they refreshed themselves—he was reluctant to let her go far without being able to keep watch over her—he offered to escort her to a gentleman who was selling meat pies from a cart.
“No need,” she said breezily, settling onto a bench. “I packed enough for both of us.”
His brows lifting in surprise, Lysander settled beside her, as she opened her bag and began to remove wrapped sandwiches. He’d noticed the bulk in her carpetbag but had assumed it was the extra clothing he was sure she’d been unwilling to travel without.
“These aregood,” he mumbled around a bit of bread and meat.
“They are.” She was daintily nibbling on her own meal. “I can say that without thanking you because I did not make them. I know my skills and working in the kitchen is not one of them.”
That was an opening he couldn’t pass up. “And whatareyer skills, milady?”
“I am not a lady today, remember?” She sent him a teasing look, then settled back against the bench. “I suppose though… I suppose my skills are that Iama lady.”
He snorted.
“I suppose it sounds silly to someone such as you,” she admitted.
“Someone such as me? Crippled, poor, ugly?”
Her eyeroll contained more than a touch of exasperation. “I have never seen a man so obsessed with his appearance as ye, Lunzie. You are not ugly, just…”
When she trailed off, he realized he wasquiteinterested in hearing what she had to say about him. “Just what?”
She shrugged. “The beard is not my favorite, but once you washed the dirt off, there is nothing wrong with you.”
Gesturing to his eyepatch, he scowled, the way he’d seen Lyon do on more than one occasion. “Oh really?”
Rolling her eyes again, she lifted her sandwich. “An eyepatch does not diminish your worth, Lunzie. By the way, I have noticed your limp is better. What caused it?”
Oh, damn. He’d forgotten all about the limp.
“It comes and goes,” he mumbled, pretending to focus on his lunch, still reeling from her words.
An eyepatch does not diminish your worth.
If she truly believed that, why had she said those things about Lyon?
After a moment, she blew out a breath. “When I said you would not understand, I meant as a man. You likely have skills I can only dream about, Lunzie, butme…”
When he tilted his head enough to look at her from the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head.
“I was raised to be alady. Not just sitting around and embroidering, although I do have a lovely hand at that. No, I was raised to run a household, and choose menus, and plan parties and events to showcase my husband’s power and influence.”
“You are not married,” he pointed out mulishly.
“No, I am not.” Her voice was small. “I want to be though.”
And, despite knowing he couldn’t let her know who he was, Lysander wanted to push her. “To whom?”
Although she wasn’t looking at him, her lips curled softly as she stared down at her meal. “There was a man I very much wanted to marry, but I made a fool of myself, and now…” She shook her head.
The sandwich felt as if it were stuck in his throat. “How did ye make a fool of yerself?” he managed.
