Free The Unintended Bride by Kelly McClymer Page A

flask, Mr. Watterly."
    He sat across from her. Between them, the meager meal on its festive tablecloth looked even less impressive. He set the flask beside the biscuits. She appraised everything as it was laid out and wanted to laugh at first, and then to cry. Her skills as a hostess were sadly lacking. And yet she did not care that the meal was small. Why on earth did such a thing seem so special? She knew the answer: because she was sharing it with Arthur.
    They bowed their heads briefly and then she played the lady, serving him two of the biscuits and most of the dried apples. She did not know what to do about the flask, so she left it alone.
    "You haven't given yourself enough food," Arthur protested.
    She would have argued that he had been the one to pry the door open, and he had been the one to try to batter down the larger door, so he should get the lion's share of the food. She knew, however, that he would not accept that logic. "I am not very hungry," she lied.
    "Nor am I, then," he said gallantly. "Why don't we save some for our breakfast tomorrow?" Quickly, he wrapped a biscuit and half of his dried apples in a clean handkerchief.
    "Do you think . . ." She didn't dare complete the thought. Would they be rescued tomorrow? She almost didn't want to know that it wasn't a surety.
    He shook his head, warning her away from such thoughts, and lifted the flask in a salute. "A toast! To a fine hostess who knows how to set a table without a raft of servants to help her." He held out the flask toward her.
    She reached out, took it, and sipped quickly, before she could lose her nerve. There was no sting of alcohol. Definitely not whiskey, not brandy. Yet it was not water, either. The taste was familiar and yet not quite.
    She handed it back to him and watched as he took a sip for himself. "What is that?"
    "It is a concoction that Katherine, your sisters' governess, gave me the recipe for after I ate those poisoned mushrooms. As I recall, it is tea strongly steeped with currants, lemons, rosemary and honey." "I had thought it might be whiskey or brandy," she confessed, wondering if he would be shocked.
    He was not. Instead, he grimaced, as if he had done something wrong by not supplying her with spirits. "I'm sorry, but I have nothing stronger than this mixture. I suppose most men carry such things in their flasks. But I find this settles my nerves, soothes my throat, and quenches my thirst much more satisfactorily."
    "It is refreshing. I think I shall get the recipe from Katherine for myself." The governess had been a village herbal healer before taking up her post. Perhaps she might even have some potion to calm a wayward heart as well.
    For such a small meal, it did seem to take forever to consume. They told stories, considered the expression that Mr. Beasley would wear when he opened the door in the morning to find them there, and spoke with endless disdain of the prankster who had written the notes to Arthur and led him on the hunt for the manuscript of Le Morte d'Arthur . They did not discuss, not even once, how they would explain matters to the duke.
    At last, as the night left them in full darkness, she heard Arthur stand, brushing crumbs lightly from his clothing. "I must thank you for an enjoyable dinner, Miss Fenster. I beg your leave to wish you a good night before I retire."
    "Retire?"
    "I think it would be best if I slept in the other room and you in here — for propriety's sake. Don't you agree?"
    Was it only her own foolish heart that made her think he might like her to argue with him. She conjured up a picture of Arthur and Gwen dancing to banish the one of Arthur lying beside her in his shirtsleeves. "I agree."
    She cleaned up the remains of their supper, fighting back the most foolish urge to cry as his steps took him a way.
    His footsteps halted. His voice vibrated through her, though she could not see him. "I have taken the hinges off this door, and I cannot close it. I can try to replace them — "
    "Don't