Page 69 of A Much Maligned Miss

She regarded him through her eyelashes, trying to assess if he was truly reconciled to taking Mr. Ewell as a third partner in The Citadel. “You shall have jam, then,” she decided. “Will you take blackcurrant or damson?”

His eyes turned on her and for a moment she thought he would flatly crush her presumption by refusing to take any. Then he seemed to relent. “You pick for me.”

“Damson it is,” she said, spreading it evenly.

“Aren’t you going to try it?” he asked when she held out the small plate to him.

She shook his head. “I want to have the grapefruit marmalade.”

“A bite of mine,” he clarified.

Caroline blinked. For some reason, that felt rather…intimate. She would not dream of taking a bite out of another person’s food. Even as she opened her mouth to explain this, she caught sight of the knowing gleam in his eye and changed her mind. Coloring faintly, she took a small bite out of his half of the roll and then passed it over. “Delicious,” she pronounced, feeling unaccountably flustered.

Gervaise smirked as though he was only too aware of the fact she had momentarily balked. Then he turned the bread so her own bitemark hovered before his mouth. Meeting her eyes, he sank his teeth into it with deliberation, his larger bite consuming her own. “I agree. Delicious.”

Caroline cleared her throat and seized hold of her teapot. She would not let him see how rattled she was by this exchange. If she caviled over sharing a piece of bread with the man, how on earth would she get through a morning of him buying her garments?

“How’s the tea?” he asked silkily when she took her first sip.

“It’s Assam, I think. I would offer you some, but I know you do not care for it.”

He nodded slowly. “Though the thrill of sipping from the same cup might assuage the bitterness of the taste.”

He was being disgracefully familiar, Caroline acknowledged, her heartbeat picking up. She suppressed the nervous impulse to take a quick hurried look about the coffee parlor. No one was listening to their conversation in any case. She was just being a goose. If she was to convince him that she was perfectly at ease with their current situation then she needed to act accordingly.

“Assam is not bitter,” she replied lightly. “It is rich and malty with an underlying sweetness. Would you like me to pour your coffee?”

He gave a slight inclination of his head. “Please do.”

“Tell me what gowns will you buy me?” she said boldly as she lifted the coffee pot. “Will they be very frivolous?”

He gave her an assessing look before he spoke. “I will have to buy you two lots,” he answered slowly. “One set which follow my own inclination, and another which will merely be fit to be seen in a gin palace.”

“Oh! And what will the gowns be like for the gin palace?” she asked, sounding intrigued.

“Flashy,” he answered dryly. “Eye-catching. Like the plumage of a bird of paradise.”

“They sound exciting.”

He gave her a sardonic look. “Do you really think so?”

She lifted her chin. “I do,” she insisted, sliding his cup of coffee across the table to him. She would not ask, she told herself. She should not. He waited and she found she could not stop herself. “Now tell me what the other gowns will be like. The ones you should like to dress me in.”

He did not answer at first, instead taking a sip of coffee. “They will be understated but stylish,” he said, setting down his cup. “Their appeal will not be apparent at first but will instead subtly intrigue one to take a second look and then a third. Only those with discernment will see how cunningly they are wrought and how appealing their wearer.”

“Rather like this dress, then,” she said flatly, glancing down at her burgundy dress with the unusual sleeves.

“Not quite so plain as that one, but yes, in the same spirit, you could say.”

“The wardrobe of an untrustworthy governess, I suppose,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, and he laughed.

“That is your appeal after all. Even young Edward Vance thought so.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she scoffed. “Teddy is quite devoted to his own governess and would never describe me in such terms!”

“No, he did not use those precise words,” he acknowledged, “but I believe he once said you have a secret sort of prettiness which can only be seen when outside of your dear mama’s sphere. Emmeline told me of it.”

Caroline bit her lip and considered this as she spread her marmalade. “Well, I for one look forward to discovering Miss Pomfrey’s flamboyant wardrobe,” she announced defiantly, lifting her bread to her lips. She took a dainty bite and then daringly carried it to Gervaise’s lips. “Try some,” she recommended.