A Rogue in the Making (Forever Yours #11)- Stacy Reid Page 0,14

this feast?”

His valet wrinkled his nose most charmingly. “I was instructed on my first day to always alert the cook whenever you have shut yourself away to work. Today was the first day I really witnessed it, my lord.”

“That does not explain all this loveliness,” he said, taking up the knife and cutting into the breast of a roasted quail. Wentworth groaned at the first taste. He was hungrier than he’d realized.

“I ordered the kitchens to prepare something proper, my lord. With all the energy you expend to work, a few cakes and sandwiches would not do.”

Wentworth froze and glanced up into the flushed face of his valet. “How novel,” he murmured. “I shall not complain you overriding my order, for this meal is beyond delicious. So, my good lad, thank you for being thoughtful.”

Wentworth had informed his kitchens years ago that whenever he is consumed with a problem or something new, the cook could forgo the three to five-course dinner she prepared. Even when she did something simple, the tray would be removed untouched.

“Request a second tray from the kitchens, Julian. I want the same thing I have here and in the same quantity.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said and hurried from the room.

Wentworth took his tray over to the table by the fire and slowly savored the thyme-infused quail until Julian returned with another tray.

“Please set it down over here.”

His valet complied, setting down another tray with half a roasted quail, slices of roast pork, vegetables, delicate chicken-filled pastries, and fish in crème sauce. There was spiced cake, wine, and fruit compote in an elegant jelly.

“I will retire my lord and—”

“Nonsense. Join me. The second tray is for you. I find I do not wish to dine alone tonight, and who better to join me?” Wentworth smiled. “I haven’t suggested that you kill someone, Julian, stop looking at the door with that air of desperation.”

A choking sound came from his valet before his slim shoulders squared, but most importantly, his stomach rumbled.

“It seems you’ve not had supper either, and if I am to guess correctly, that is at least another hour away. Now, join me.”

He sat, his throat working a nervous swallow.

Wentworth cut into a buttered golden potato. “Do I make you nervous, Julian?”

He scoffed and lowered himself in the chair. “Of course not, my lord.”

Wentworth poured a generous amount of brandy into two glasses and handed one to his valet.

“I should be the one serving you, my lord,” he said softly, taking the glass and a sip of the golden liquid.

Wentworth couldn’t explain why he liked his valet’s company. There was an air of something mysterious about him, and the suspicion Wentworth had felt about his valet still lingered.

“Is it true that you graduated from Oxford University at the age of seventeen?” Julian asked.

The question was unexpected, but it showed the lad was also curious about him.

“Yes. It took some finessing from my father for me to gain admittance at thirteen. But, a demonstration of my ability opened the doors.”

His valet popped a piece of roasted quail in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “What was it like? Attending that important university at such a young age?”

“Lonely,” Wentworth replied without thinking. “That came out without me giving your question much thought.”

“But I believe it an honest response, my lord, thank you,” he said with a soft smile.

Wentworth barely contained his flinch. Bloody hell, that sweet curve of lush lips wreaked havoc with his damn heart. It seemed his infernal attraction to the lad was still there. He knew, of course, there were men and women who were attracted to both sexes, but the notion that he too had such sexuality was befuddling to his senses.

“Why was it lonely?”

Wentworth lowered his knife and fork and reached for his brandy, which he finished in one go. “While I was thrilled to be studying advanced mathematics and the various sciences, I was still a twelve-year-old lad who, at times, hungered to play. The older boys did not understand me, nor did they make an effort to befriend me or respond to my overtures. I spent most of my time studying or reading in my room or taking long walks by the river.”

He noted with some amusement for such a petite lad his valet had a healthy appetite. The tray was already half gone. Grabbing the decanter, the earl topped up his glass.

They ate and drank in a silence that felt almost companionable. Wentworth noted the lad kept his eyes lowered, and whenever