want to settle in one place with ’im and ’ave a family, one we would nurture and love together. That’s what I want.”
Knight’s eyes darkened, his pupils edging out the light. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she saw his nostrils quiver. Below the granite ledge of his jaw, his throat worked above the loosened knot of his cravat. A magnetic force pulsed between them, his head lowering toward hers, her own tilting up…
He drew back sharply. “You would be better off with Taylor.”
“B-beg pardon?” she said, startled.
“He seems like a reliable sort,” Knight said brusquely. “And a constant one, if he’s still waiting on you despite being turned down. Take it from me, Fancy: it’s better not to gamble on love.”
Looking into his eyes, she felt as if she’d run headlong into a steel wall. His features were hard and impenetrable, all hints of desire gone.
“Love ain’t a gamble,” she whispered.
He rose abruptly and offered her his hand. “I had better escort you back before the others wonder where you’ve gone.”
Ignoring his help, she got on her own two feet. “I can find my way back, Your Grace.”
Pride allowed her to hide the pain of her shattered hopes. Hopes that she’d been foolish to have in the first place and even more foolish to share. She walked stiffly back to the farmhouse, willing herself not to run or cry, wishing she wasn’t so blooming aware of Knight’s presence behind her.
10
That night, Fancy had trouble finding sleep. She and Mrs. Taylor shared the single bedchamber in the farmhouse, but she couldn’t blame the good matron’s snoring for her restlessness. As she listened to her roommate’s deep slumber, she tossed and turned on her own straw pallet because she could not stop thinking about Knight.
Did I imagine that near-kiss moment between us? Why is ’e so jaded about love? What ’appened to ’im in the past?
At dawn, she rose with a surge of unexpected energy and decided to put it to good use in the kitchen. Between what the Taylors had brought and the food supplies that Bea had insisted the Sheridans take with them, Fancy had plenty to work with. She made a hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and stewed beans, even doing a bit of baking.
The Taylors and her family exclaimed over the food. She waited for Knight to emerge, and when he didn’t by mid-morning, she decided to go to him. She didn’t want to break the fragile filaments of friendship that the last week had woven between them. After this journey ended, they would part ways, and she wanted their memories of each other to be good.
She found Knight at his carriage, sitting at a table while his valet poured his tea. He stood when she approached. She didn’t know how his valet did it, but Knight looked as if he’d risen from a night in a palace rather than camped out in the middle of a field. His cravat had a crisp knot, and he was wearing the charcoal-grey jacket he’d once lent her. She cast a surreptitious glance at his left sleeve; sure enough, his valet had replaced the gold button that, at this very moment, was snug in the pocket of her skirts.
“Good morning, Fancy,” Knight said pleasantly.
His tone held no hint that anything unusual had happened between them the night before. And perhaps nothing had. Perhaps that moment had been a product of her imagination and hopeless yearning.
Count yourself lucky, she told herself. ’E ain’t ’olding your rude departure last night against you. Follow ’is lead and keep everything friendly-like.
She set the plate on the table. “I made breakfast and thought you might be wanting some.”
“Thank you,” he said politely.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she removed a napkin-wrapped bundle and held it out to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Open it, and you’ll see.”
He unfolded the rough napkin to reveal the stack of three golden pastries shaped like disks. The slashes she’d made in the buttery tops showed off the dark and moist currant-filled interior.
When he looked up, there was a smile in his eyes. “You baked Eccles cakes?”
“Or, as we Sheridans like to call them, squashed fly cakes,” she said with a grin.
His brows rose, a silent question.
“When Tommy was small, Liam told ’im that Eccles cakes were filled with ground-up flies. For years, the rest o’ the family wondered why Tommy refused to eat them.”
Knight’s lips twitched. “And Liam, out of the goodness of his heart, volunteered to eat Tommy’s share?”