“Aside from being cold and wet and a bit shaken up, the lady appears to be fine, Murray.” Reese stepped inside the coach and settled Faith on the seat, tucking the lap robe securely around her. “Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Reese looked down at the woman bundled up beside him. Her face was a pale, translucent ivory except for her straight, little nose, which was reddened with cold, and her shimmering gray eyes. Her eyes were the largest thing about her, he decided, and the loveliest.
“I was on my way to dinner. Have you eaten?”
Faith shook her head.
“Then you’ll join me.”
Faith shook her head again.
“Why not?”
“My purse is gone. I have no money.”
God, but she was persistent, Reese thought. “Forget about it. Worrying won’t solve anything.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t lose anything,” Faith reminded him.
“That’s true,” Reese agreed, “but I’ve enough for the both of us. I’ll buy you dinner tonight. You can pay me back when you recover your loss. Fair enough?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled loudly.
He smiled. “What if I told you I don’t like to eat alone?”
“I’d want to know how you know, since you’ve probably never eaten alone,” Faith mumbled, trying to hold on to her dignity.
“What was that?” Reese asked. “I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
Faith met his eyes and knew he’d heard every word. “I said I would be delighted to join you for dinner.”
“Smart girl.” Reese banged on the roof of the coach and shouted out the change in destination.
/> * * *
“Were you really coming here to dinner?” Faith asked. “Or were you going someplace a little more formal?”
They were sitting in straight-backed pine chairs at a table covered with red, checked linen in one of Washington’s little known restaurants.
Reese glanced down at his black evening wear and grinned at his companion. “Guilty as charged. I was supposed to make an appearance at a boring reception given by the British ambassador.”
Faith looked up from her menu and found his rich, brown eyes fixed on her. “I’m sorry you missed your reception.”
“There will be other receptions,” Reese said easily. “What will you have for dinner?”
Faith remembered, suddenly, the tantalizing aromas from David Alexander’s noonday meal and ordered from memory. “Roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, biscuits, garden peas, and apple cobbler for dessert. And coffee, lots of coffee. Do you have real coffee?”
“We have real coffee, ma’am, but no apple cobbler,” the waiter replied.
Faith’s eager expression crumpled in disappointment. “Apple pie?”