Her fingers itched to run through it, to sweep the stray lock from his forehead.
“It will take me a while to complete the portrait,” she told him as she walked back to where he sat beside the glass, “but I’ll have it ready for you before you leave.”
“Keep it for me.”
She blew out the candle, leaning close enough to catch a whiff of his scent, smelling soap and starch and something uniquely Tris. “Don’t you want it?”
He rose from the chair, smiling down at her from his greater height. “I’ll probably lose it if I take it with me.”
“Very well, then.” She’d been hoping he’d say she should keep it to remember him by. But as always, Tris was the perfect gentleman. If he did harbor any affection for her, he wouldn’t betray so with such a remark. “I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Nesbitt.”
She’d called him Tristan—or Tris—for years now, but suddenly that seemed too informal.
His gray gaze remained steady. “Thank you, Lady Alexandra. I wish you a happy life.”
A happy life. She could be married by the time he returned, she realized with a shock. In fact, if he were gone three years, she very likely would be.
Her heart sank at the thought.
But at least she’d have his profile. When she was finished, it would be black on white in an elegant oval frame, a perfect likeness of his face. And she’d almost touched him while making it.
As he walked from the room, she peeled the paper off the glass and hugged it to her chest.
RATAFIA PUFFS
Take halfe a pound of Ground Almonds and a little more than that of Sugar. Make it up in a stiff paste with Whites of five Eggs and a little Essence of Almond whipt to a Froth. Beat it all well in a Mortar, and make it up in little Loaves, then bake them in a very cool oven on Paper and Tin-Plates.
I call these my magical sweets…my husband proposed directly after eating only one!
—Eleanor, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1728
Cainewood Castle, seven years later
June 1815
“NOT ALL OF IT!” Alexandra Chase made a mad grab for her youngest sister’s arm. “We’re instructed to add a little more sugar than almonds.”
Corinna stopped grating and frowned. “I like sugar.”
“You won’t like these ratafia puffs if they’re all sugar,” their middle sister, Juliana, said as she took the cone-shaped sugar loaf and set it on the scarred wooden table in the center of Cainewood Castle’s cavernous kitchen.
“Here, my arm is tired.” Alexandra handed Corinna the bowl of egg whites she’d been beating, then scooped a proper amount of the sugar and poured it into another bowl that held the ground almonds. Stirring them together, she shook her head at Corinna. “You really are quite hopeless with recipes. If you didn’t look so much like Mama, I’d wonder if you’re truly her child.”
A sudden sheen of tears brightened Corinna’s brilliant blue eyes. She quickly blinked them away. “She always made good sweets, didn’t she?”
“Excellent sweets,” Juliana said in a sympathetic tone, shooting a warning glance to her older sister.
Alexandra felt abashed and maybe a little teary herself. She looked away, her gaze wandering the whitewashed stone walls of the kitchen. Heaven knew Corinna was the most talented of the three of them. She’d meant only to tease her sister about her lack of their family’s renowned skills for making sweets, not remind her of their mother. Memories could still be painful, since Mama had been gone less than two years.
But the time for sadness was over…following years of mourning various family members one after another, Alexandra and her sisters were finally wearing cheerful colors and ready to face the world. In Alexandra’s case, she was more than ready to put the sorrow behind her and get on with her life.
During her first and only season four long years ago, she’d entertained many excellent offers of marriage. But when her grandmother died shortly thereafter, all thoughts of a wedding had been postponed, and she’d missed the 1812 season while mourning her. Then her father had died, and she’d missed the 1813 season while mourning him. Then her mother had died, and she’d missed the 1814 season while mourning her. Then her oldest brother had died, making 1815’s season yet another one of solitude here in the countryside.
All of the marriage-minded men who’d courted her had long since found available brides. But Alexandra wasn’t sure she wanted to face another season, with all the attending games and frivolity. She just wanted to be a wife. She wanted to put her old life behind her and start over in a new place and a new situation.
As for her younger sisters, they’d yet to be presented at court and were beside themselves at the thought of finally having a season. It seemed all Juliana and Corinna could talk of were the many parties, balls, breakfasts, dances, and soirees they were looking forward to attending.
“I can hardly wait for next spring,” Corinna said, echoing Alexandra’s musings.
Juliana added a few drops of almond extract to the egg whites. “If Griffin has his way, we’ll all be married long before spring. We’ll never have a season.”
“He cannot get us all married off so quickly.” Alexandra idly stirred the almonds and sugar. “Never mind that he’s been inviting his friends here to meet us since before we were out of mourning. You two will have your seasons. He’ll have to be content with my marriage for now.”
“If the ‘magical’ ratafia puffs do their job.” Corinna handed the bowl of eggs back to Alexandra. “Here, now my arm is tired. This is hard work.” Mopping her forehead with a towel, she looked pointedly through an archway to where a scullery maid stood drying a towering stack of dishes. “I cannot understand why you
