Page 18 of A Perfect Engagement
“I wondered if it was possible to get something small to eat and maybe a glass of milk?”
“You’re in luck.” A woman turned from where she had been standing at the stove. Miss Grisham smiled at him, and it was his turn to be shocked. “I’m just making some hot chocolate. I am willing to share.” She was still wearing her gown from earlier, but it was covered by a white and blue gingham apron.
He returned her smile. She looked adorable in the apron. The delicious smells wafting from the pot led him by the nose across the room. He leaned in to sniff the chocolate-scented milk.
“Delicious. And quite the luxury. I’d love to have a cup.” As he straightened, his nose caught another scent, the rose water Miss Grisham wore. The light, delicate scent reminded him of the garden in summer. Did she dab it on her neck, or did she bathe in rose-scented water? Unbidden, a picture of her in the bath surrounded by rose petals formed in his mind.
Miss Grisham turned to look up at him. They stood so close, their bodies just inches from each other. So close, he could see the green of her eyes was rimmed in dark-blue, and her cheeks were flushed with the heat from the stove. A stray wisp of damp hair curled at her temple. He brushed it away with a flick of one finger. Her eyes widened at his light touch. He should step back. He should most definitely…step back.
“Ahem.” The butler coughed delicately. “I will just take the cocoa powder back to the cupboard to lock it up.”
Miss Grisham moved back first. “Thank you, Mr. Brewster.” She grabbed the crock of cocoa powder from the counter next to the pot and handed it to the man.
What was he doing? This woman belonged to his brother. Daniel stepped away from her, and turning blindly, he walked over to the table.
“Mrs. Brewster, will you help me?” Mr. Brewster asked.
“Yes, of course. We’ll just be in the other room,” his wife said.
The older couple scurried through an archway at the other end of the kitchen.
“Can you get out two cups and saucers?” Miss Grisham pointed to a cupboard.
He crossed to the cabinet, glad to have something to occupy his hands. He found two stoneware mugs. “Will these do? No saucers, but they will hold more than a teacup would.”
Miss Grisham nodded her approval. “Bring them here.” When he did, she carefully ladled hot chocolate into the two mugs.
He returned to the table with their mugs and had a seat on the bench. Miss Grisham went over to the larder and emerged with a board holding a huge chunk of cheese and some sliced ham. She placed it in the middle of the table, giving the board a small adjustment, so the long side lay exactly parallel to the edge of the table. Then she bustled away again, only to return a few minutes later with a loaf of bread and a rather large knife. Smiling, she finally sat across from him.
“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me. I would have been happy with just the drink.”
“You said you were hungry. Besides, it’s no trouble. I know where everything is.” She picked up her mug and blew delicately across the surface of the milk, creating tiny ripples.
He lifted his mug, mimicking her. “Hmmm, it smells good. Why do you know where everything is in the kitchens? I was surprised to see a lady of the house stirring a pot of steaming milk.”
“I was also surprised to see a gentleman lurking in the kitchens.” Her amused eyes met his over the mugs. “When I was young, my older brothers never had time for me. I was often lonely. I would come down here and sit on this bench seat and watch the bustle of servants come and go. Mrs. Brewster never scolded me for being in the way. Eventually, Greer, our chef, let me help with small tasks. He is a bit gruff but with a big soft spot for children.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I still come down when I am lonely, and I am always given something useful to do.”
“Were you lonely tonight?” he asked softly.
“No, tonight’s visit was due to insomnia. A glass of warm milk was in order.”
“I couldn’t sleep either. But I didn’t feel like joining the crowd in the drawing room. Being my brother full time is harder than I imagined. I have to be careful with everything I say about politics or crop rotations or women…it’s exhausting.
“Women?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Well…men talk about all sorts of things…” He raised his mug and took a swallow of his drink.
Miss Grisham lowered her gaze. She took up the knife and began cutting a slice. “So, what sort of woman does Hawksridge usually see? Does he keep a mistress?”
Daniel choked. Sputtering, he reached for a napkin as he coughed. Miss Grisham gazed at him silently with wide, curious eyes.
“I don’t think it is something I should be discussing with his fiancée, Miss Grisham.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” She sighed and set down the knife on the table. “I think you should call me Charlotte when we are alone. There is no need to be formal.”
She piled ham on top of the bread and slid the plate across the table to him. Her forehead creased with an annoyance. But there was no chance in hell he would discuss his brother’s preference in women with her. That was never going to happen.
“Thank you…Charlotte.” He took a big bite from his sandwich.
