Page 50 of Love Lessons for a Lady

Or possibly, the magistrate had been summoned for a different reason. She supposed it was too much to hope it was to arrest Mrs. Crenshaw.

Never had she imagined she’d find her heart’s desire resting his slender hips against a kitchen table and chatting with their landlady.

This morning, no fire lit the salon, but the curtains had been drawn wide and the early morning sun filtered through the gleaming windows. Cozy with a homey, inviting atmosphere, the room had been decorated simply.

Several chairs in earthen shades were situated strategically around the parlor. A lush fern sat upon a table near the windows, a potted Ficus nearly six feet tall stood between two other windows, and one wall contained a shelf with an assortment of books, a chess set, and decks of cards.

The cat she’d seen yesterday on the stoop, along with a large, fluffy orange cat, lay sleeping contentedly on one of the chairs. A ray of sunshine bathed their intertwined bodies.

The salon was the perfect backdrop for the relaxed, refined man across from Chasity. His eyes, dark as the coffee she was about to pour, held the promise of something tantalizing and sent tingles up and down her spine each time she met his penetrating gaze.

Jacketless, Aston wore a jade green waistcoat, and the fabric of his fine lawn shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows, revealing the crisp, dark brown hair covering his sculpted forearms. Never in Chasity’s life would she have suspected a man’s shoulders and arms could be so…so…appealing.

Of course, he might’ve just come from months of deprivation and imprisonment in Newgate’s deepest bowels, and Chasity would still think him the most handsome man she knew.

Love did that. Made everyone incomparable to the one who held your heart.

The sky seemed a more vivid shade of blue. Flowers smelled more fragrant. The sun shone brighter, and everywhere one looked, there was something to be grateful for or to enjoy.

Surely the Good Lord had His hand in this incredible coincidence. That out of all of the boarding houses Chasity might’ve chosen to stay at, she picked the same one where Aston rented rooms.

Or had Gibney had something to do with that? Had the groom known?

“You are well?” Aston asked solicitously as Chasity poured him a cup of coffee.

“Quite well, thank you.” She hated this polite, stilted small talk when they’d spoken so easily together before.

She paused, a hand hovering over the sugar bowl.

How did Aston like his coffee?

She smiled self-consciously. “I regret don’t know how you take your coffee, Aston.”

How could she love this man beyond all else and not know something so trivial? She didn’t know his favorite color, favorite food, if he had any siblings, what he enjoyed reading, if he had any hobbies…

The truth of it was that she knew very little about Aston Terramier other than that he danced divinely, and she’d fallen hopelessly, madly, and irrevocably in love with him. Her heart had been his since that day he’d taken her in his arms and whisked her around the ballroom floor.

“Two lumps. No milk,” Aston responded with a lazy, sideways smile. “And you?”

“Me?” Chasity gave him a startled glance.

“How do you take your coffee?” He slung an ankle over his knee and idly tapped his fingers on a muscular thigh. Not that Chasity made a habit of noticing men’s sinewy thighs. But the buff-colored pantaloons left little to the imagination.

Aston had very nice thighs indeed.

“I don’t drink coffee. That is, I’ve never had the opportunity. I believe the first coffee in England came from Turkey, did it not?”

He lifted his cup to his molded lips and blew softly. “Yes, a fellow named Daniel Edwards was a trader in Turkish goods. Supposedly, with the assistance of a servant, he established the first coffee house in England. Now coffee is produced in several countries other than Turkey.”

Raising the teacup to her nose, Chasity inhaled deeply. “It does possess the most delicious aroma.”

“Some varieties are quite bitter until you become accustomed to the strong taste.” Aston waved those long fingers toward the coffee pot. “I’d suggest you prepare yours the same way you would your tea.”

“A healthy portion of milk and two lumps of sugar it is then.” She plunked the lumps into his cup and hers as well. Grinning, she lifted the small milk pitcher. “I actually prefer cream in my tea like the Americans, but it’s not de rigueur in English Society.”

Stirring her coffee, Chasity slid her glance toward the three-inch opening between the door and door jamb. She could hear the maids moving in and out of the dining room down the hall if she concentrated. They spoke in subdued tones, laughing every now and again.

“Good morning, Miss Hilda. Miss Joan,” one of the maids greeted. “The stewed prunes will be out in a moment.”