Hobbs could gossip as fervidly as anyone, but Luke had requested he supervise the preparations in the hopes that it would subdue some of the speculation down in the kitchen. But it was probably ludicrous to imagine it could be quelled.
“This looks cozy,” Libby said, as she waltzed in.
If Hobbs was shocked or scandalized by the private meal, he didn’t reveal it. He held the chair for her, then for Luke, as he asked, “Shall I serve you, my lord?”
“What’s your opinion?” Luke asked Libby. “Shall we keep him? Or can he slink off to his bed?”
Libby flashed a smile Hobbs would remember forever. “You don’t need to wait on us, Mr. Hobbs. It’s late, and we can fend for ourselves.”
“Are you sure, Miss Carstairs?”
“I’m sure, and the food smells delicious. Tell the chef that I was incredibly pleased.”
“I will. And if I may be so bold as to say . . . ?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for entertaining the staff. We were all enthralled, especially the younger housemaids.”
Libby reached out and squeezed his hand, leaving him so giddy that Luke was surprised he didn’t faint.
“I’m delighted Lord Barrett furnished the opportunity,” she said. “The servants here are the most gracious audience I’ve ever had.”
Luke had tolerated all the gushing he could stand. He waved Hobbs out, and once he’d left and it was quiet, she collapsed in her seat, as if the air had rushed out of her. She grabbed the wine decanter and poured her goblet full to the rim before Luke could offer to do it for her.
“What a day,” she muttered as she took several gulps. “Did you send a note to Fish so she won’t worry?”
“Yes, I sent it.”
“You have some gall to automatically assume I’d dine with you in your bedchamber.”
“Yes, I’m renowned for my gall. It’s an aristocrat’s prerogative to be audacious.”
“Your servants will know I’m locked in with you.”
“I don’t care. You won’t quail like a trembling virgin, will you?”
“No. Just feed me. When I told you I was starving, I wasn’t joking.”
“Your wish is my command,” he facetiously retorted.
He rose and went to the buffet, lifting the lids to check on what had been delivered.
“We have a bit of everything,” he said, “and if I recall correctly, you like everything.”
“This is our second meal. Is it your intent to make a habit out of feeding me?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t food the way to a man’s heart? Can the same ploy work on a woman?”
He grinned. “We’ll see, I guess.”
He dished up plates for both of them, then brought them over. He served hers with a flourish, then sat across from her. She picked up a fork, but didn’t eat. As was typical of her, she simply pushed the food around. He studied her, deciding she looked exhausted.
“You’re tired,” he said.
“Of course I am. I’ve been on stage all day. It’s not easy being me. People have expectations, and I like to live up to them.”
“Are you ever just yourself? Or are you always putting on an act?”
“I’m myself with you—if that’s what you’re asking.”
He snorted with amusement. “You are never yourself with me. You are the most enigmatic person I’ve ever encountered. I can never tell from one minute to the next if I’m viewing the real Libby Carstairs or if I’m staring at a false façade.”
“If I showed you the real me, you probably wouldn’t like me quite so much.”
“I doubt it. I’m certain I’d be besotted no matter what.”
“I like your servants,” she said, deftly changing the subject.
“They like you too. In fact, I can safely state that they’re all in love with you.”
“You mention their heightened regard as if it’s a bad thing.”
“You expended all your energy on them, and now, none remains for me.”
“You are so spoiled.”
She smiled one of her glorious smiles, and he reached across the table and linked their fingers. She stirred the oddest impulses, and he wanted to protect and cherish her forever. He couldn’t deduce why he’d be plagued by such a feeling, and he definitely didn’t like it, but he had no idea how to suppress it. He’d given up trying.
“Will you quit fussing with your food and eat some of it?” he asked.
“I’m too fatigued to enjoy it.”
“Ha! My grievance is valid. You spent hours strutting for my servants, and I must survive on the dregs of your attention.”
“I have a bit left for you.”
“If you don’t eat, my chef will be crushed. He’ll likely never recover.”
She smirked and nibbled at the edges, but mostly, she sipped her wine and gazed at him over the rim of the glass. Her focus was so penetrating he had to ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m struggling to figure out why I let you coerce me. No one is ever able to boss me. Why you?”
“I’m more determined than anyone else. When there’s something I crave, I don’t relent until I receive it.”
“I suppose that explains it. You dragged me to Barrett when I was opposed to coming. You forced me to dawdle until it was too late to head for Roland.”
“I didn’t force you. Don’t exaggerate.”
“You arranged a private supper for us—in your bedroom, no less!—and I’m still here. For the life of me, I can’t ascertain why.”
“Perhaps I’ve merely lured your sweeter, more feminine side to the surface, and you’re being amenable for once.”
“Or perhaps—where you’re concerned—I’m completely spineless.”
“If you are, I will admit to being delighted. It will be simpler than ever to seduce you.”
It was too aggravating to watch her not eat, so he took her plate away and refilled their wine. She could barely stifle a yawn, and he scoffed at his stupidity.
He’d presumed he could feed her, ply her with wine, then march her into his bed, but she’d exhausted herself, enticing everyone in the manor, while he’d loafed in the background like a grouchy chaperone.
She stifled a second yawn, and he asked, “Are you about to fall asleep on me?”
“I’ll try not to be that rude.”
“May I complain about how much
