By the time he stepped back, she was lightheaded for lack of air. Glancing down at the pan, she also saw she was close to overcooking the eggs.
“Margaret,” he said gently, so that low voice sounded like distant thunder, “I’m going to eat breakfast with you. You can join me upstairs, or we can stay down here. Your choice.”
Oh, how glad she was that her back was turned. Otherwise he might see the devastating effect that velvety tone had on her. She closed her eyes against the lure of his soft, impossibly deep voice.
“It’s not suitable,” she said, making a great showing of plating the two meals.
“Perhaps not, but I feel a fool eating up there in state, while you play at humble domestic a floor below.”
“I am a humble domestic,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even.
“Domestic perhaps. Humble never.”
When she turned around, he was setting two places at the ancient kitchen table. She watched him in surprise, the two full plates in her hands, as she was forced to accept that she’d lost the battle of the dining locations. She’d done her best, she really had, but the temptation of his company proved too powerful. And he made her sound petty for sticking to her guns.
He poured two cups of the coffee she’d planned to take up to him. “What’s wrong?”
She was about to lose the battle of the discreet servant, too. But it was impossible to preserve formalities, when he was quite as determined to treat her as an equal.
“You’re an unusual man, Mr. Hale.”
He shrugged and pulled out her chair for her as if she was a fine lady, even if one who ate in the kitchens. “I’ve been called worse. For example, by you.”
She frowned, not because she resented his teasing, but because the silly, dizzy girl who lurked inside her liked it too much. “Dr. Black pays me to serve.”
He inclined his head toward the chair. “Then you may serve by joining me for breakfast, Miss Carr.”
At least this time, he didn’t call her Margaret.
“Thank you,” she said, giving in gracefully, because they both knew he’d won.
She couldn’t really blame him for wanting someone to talk to. Even if she worried that it might all prove too heady for a woman who had spent years training herself to solitude.
He circled the table to sit opp
osite her. For someone his size, he was light on his feet. It was a sign of a man at the peak of his fitness. He’d bounced back impressively fast from that snowy trek three nights ago.
The table was large, as were the kitchens, a reminder that this house had once bustled with activity. When he’d originally employed her mother, Dr. Black had said that he’d inherited the manor from a ne’er-do-well relation who had squandered his fortune on wild parties, featuring all kinds of debauchery. A long time ago, these empty, echoing rooms had rung to the laughter of profligate young men and expensive courtesans.
Thinking about all the wicked acts that had taken place under this roof made Maggie blush. She hid her unruly thoughts by starting to eat. As always, she’d started early, feeding the hens, milking the cow, and looking after the horses. She was hungry.
Mr. Hale seemed equally enthusiastic about his breakfast. There was something satisfying about cooking a man a good meal, then watching him enjoy it.
Stop it, Maggie. You’re falling into a silly fantasy where you’re part of a family. When the dream crumbles to nothing, you’ll be devastated.
“It’s still snowing,” she said, seizing on the weather as a suitably uncontroversial topic.
“Yes. And Emilia’s leg is no better. I’m sorry to impose.”
She hadn’t been complaining about him staying, although if she had any sense, she’d want him to move on as quickly as possible. The slightest hint of a shady reputation, and a servant became unemployable. Not that while the snow lasted, anyone was likely to intrude upon their time together.
“You’re lucky you made it through.”
He shrugged, a characteristic response. “It’s odd. In the midst of danger, you’re too busy putting one foot in front of another to realize your next breath could be your last.”
“I’m glad Jane left before the worst of it. If she’d delayed even a day, she’d miss the delivery.”
“When is she back?”