to laugh at that, and it felt good, because whatever Andrew Prince was, it wasn’t decrepit. “You sound as if you’re a grandfather, tottering around with two canes and a hearing cone!”
“Eh? What was that?” he teased, helping her up the steps to the restaurant.
“I said—” When she realized he was teasing her, her laughter burst out of her, just as he opened the door and tugged her inside.
But once there, he didn’t immediately turn to the host. She got a hold of herself and realized he was staring down at her, his hand still cupping hers. Blinking, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, wondered if she had spinach in her teeth, and finally demanded, “What?”
Andrew just shook his head a little bemusedly. “You’re a handsome woman, Christa Harrington, but when you laugh…? You’re lovely.”
He whispered the last part, almost reverently, and she felt a blush begin to work its way up her cheeks. Lovely? No man since Bobby had called her lovely, and that had been back when she’d been young enough to be considered thus.
But when Andrew said it like that, she could almost believe him.
Thank goodness he didn’t wait for an answer but turned to greet the host instead. Soon they were being led to a small table along the back wall, which he called his usual spot. It was set for two people, and as he took her coat and held the chair for her, the waiter bustled over with wine for their glasses.
“You know,” Andrew began conversationally, as he finally settled into his seat and picked up the menu, “I am a grandfather.”
It took a moment to connect the comment to their teasing out in the cold, but Christa found herself distracted by how he’d said it: Shy, almost proud.
Ignoring her menu, she leaned forward, resisting the urge to prop her chin up on her hand, and smiled. “Tell me about your grandchildren.”
It was the almost nervous way he glanced at her which endeared him to her. Had he expected her to be alienated by the news he was a real grandfather?
“I have a son, Michael—Micah. He married last year to a lovely young woman in my employ.”
“How did they meet?”
“Are you really curious, or are you just making conversation to make an old man feel better?”
If she were, she certainly couldn’t tell him that, could she? But luckily, she didn’t have to lie, so she shook her head. “You’re not old, and I do want to know. I’m…” How to say it? “I’m something of a matchmaker myself, and I’m curious to hear other’s stories of how they found love.”
His eyes lit up, and suddenly, the restaurant became quite warm.
Before he could reply though, the waiter bustled back over, and they spent a few minutes discussing dinner options before settling on the same orders of steak, potatoes, and buttered beans.
“You’ll enjoy their breads too, of course. Gordon MacKinnon’s wife, Briar Rose, is the most brilliant baker I’ve ever met. Wait until you taste dessert!” Andrew raved. “And before you ask, I don’t know how they met, madam matchmaker.”
She had to chuckle at his teasing. “I’m still waiting to hear Micah’s story!”
Reaching for his wineglass, he settled back in his chair. “I was married as a young man. She was a beautiful socialite, and our fathers were friends. She died when Michael was quite young, and I always regretted spending so much time at the armory and less with her.”
“The armory?” Ignoring propriety, she stacked her elbows on the table and leaned in.
His gaze was on the wine in his glass, but it was clear he wasn’t seeing it. “I own Prince Armory and Gunworks. I’m an inventor, and I create one-of-a-kind, very expensive, custom firearms. There are some who consider my brand the best in the world, but it meant long hours away from my family, and then suddenly, there was just Michael.”
“One of a kind” and “very expensive” would explain the way he dressed, and the way he held himself. And also the amount of cash she’d seen in his wallet the first night they’d met. But that wasn’t why he was telling her this.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, thinking briefly of the boy she’d loved years ago before his death. “I know time heals wounds, but…”
He blinked, then flashed a rueful grin her way. “In this case, my wounds had only just begun. When he was a child, my son and his nurse were traveling alone in the carriage,