Waiting as he’d been, Harris had also been afforded the time and opportunity to prepare a plan of attack for his next meeting with Julia. If he was going to fish out the truth of her motives, he was going to have to do a thoroughly better job than outright attacking and accusing.
That hadn’t gotten him anything. Nor would it. That was aside from a more difficult task.
After she’d left the music room, he’d resolved to shift course and unleash a charm offensive. Given the roguish existence he’d lived these past years, it should have been the first path he’d set himself on where Lady Julia-Adairia-Whatever-the-Hell-Her-Real-Name-Was was concerned. But it hadn’t been. Not when she’d entered the household of one of the three women who’d been like a mother to him. The lady had, however, conducted herself… like a queen. She’d been boldly challenging and spirited in her fury.
So much so that he’d had a moment of doubt. What if she was who she, in fact, claimed and who his godmother desperately wished her to be?
Unlikely.
Every part of his cynical self screamed fraud and caution. But there was a chance, and as such, he was determined to get to the bottom of whomever or whatever the young woman, in fact, was.
Delicate footfalls sounded outside the breakfast room, and he glanced up from his newspaper.
The young woman stopped in the doorway. Her gaze landed on his.
Resolved to get the answers he sought, Harris climbed to his feet, sketching a respectful bow.
“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, briefly considering the path behind her.
He planned to unleash a charm offensive, and yet… “Did you just groan at seeing me?” Harris frowned.
“It wasn’t at seeing the sideboard or the staff,” she mumbled, stomping over to that mahogany piece of furniture and accepting a porcelain dish handed to her by a grinning Stebbins. With a word of thanks, she proceeded to fill herself a plate.
“My goodness, I daresay I’ve never seen a chocolate biscuit that looks like this.” The lady spoke in awestruck tones. “You really must try it.”
Harris opened his mouth to indicate he’d already availed himself, but Julia slid her plate closer to Stebbins.
Harris scowled. He couldn’t coax so much as a smile from her, but Stebbins could earn both a smile and a biscuit? And something in that intimate exchange between the pair set Harris’ teeth on edge.
“I could not, my lady,” the servant demurred.
“Are you certain?” Julia made another attempt to push the treat off on the footman.
“He’s certain,” Harris snapped.
His ears went hot as multiple sets of gazes swung toward him.
Turning back, revealing a dish heaping with eggs and sausage and toast, Julia assessed the table, and then, dish in hand, she marched with the regal bearing of a princess to the farthest end of the table away from Harris.
With that, she grabbed a fork and knife and began slicing into her food with a speed that should have horrified him, but instead stirred his curiosity. Reclaiming his seat, Harris studied the woman across from him.
The enthusiasm with which she shoveled entirely too big bites of food into her mouth was certainly a clue as to how she’d lived. The quickness with which she ate, coupled with her almost gaunt figure, revealed a woman who’d been hungry. His stomach tightened under the evidence of that.
Suddenly, she looked up, her silver fork poised halfway to her mouth, that same mouth that had so intrigued him and distracted… and tempted last evening.
And he recalled how very close he’d come to taking those lips under his.
Desire coursed through him.
Suspicion deepened in her eyes.
Harris was grateful that she had no idea the wicked path his thoughts had once again slipped down where she was concerned.
“I fear we were off to a bad start, my lady,” he murmured.
“To which part do you refer, Lord Ruthven?” she called loudly, her voice carrying. “When you called me a whore? Or the part where you accused me of being a liar?”
His ears burned for a second time that morn.
God, she was prickly. At least where Harris was concerned. With Stebbins, the lady was perfectly amenable. Of course, this was always going to be difficult. He’d made it near impossible for himself. And he certainly wasn’t going to try to charm the suspicious lady all the way across his godmother’s eternally long dining table.
Standing, Harris collected his plate in one hand and his cup of coffee in the other and headed over to Julia’s side.
She watched his approach with a wariness to match the unease he carried where she was concerned.
They were of like opinion on that, then.
When he reached her side, Harris smiled. “May I?”
Her auburn eyebrows came together. “May you what?”
“Join you, my lady.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Ah, a person always has a choice,” he said, waiting and ultimately allowing her control over the decision. If she wished for him to leave, he would. Because forcing his presence upon her would serve him no good, and it would certainly not break down the walls he’d inadvertently fortified last evening through his mistrust.
“And you, with that opinion, my lord, show the privilege of your rank.” Julia slowly lowered her fork and nodded her chin to the seat on the other side of the table. With that, she refocused all her attention on her plate and promptly and thoroughly dismissed him.
The privilege of his rank.
That was something he’d not given much thought to. He’d been born to his station and had known from his earliest memories that his obligations included the vast Ruthven estates and the people he was responsible for.
While she ate, Harris picked up his coffee and drank. All the while, he watched her over
