“Miss?”
Stanhill. “Just a sec.” She hustled into her shorty robe and opened the door. “Hi.”
He nodded. “Good afternoon. I hope you slept well.”
“I did, thanks.” No need to tell him she hadn’t really, thanks to his employer playing tonsil hockey with her on the street last night.
“Good. Lady Ellingham has requested you join her for tea.”
“Lady Ellingham?”
“Master Ellingham’s grandmother.” He smiled awkwardly. “They come from a titled line…”
“Sure, that would be fine. What time is tea?” Might as well meet the woman responsible for this whole thing.
“Four o’clock.”
“That’s plenty of time to get ready, but I’m not sure I can wait that long to eat.”
“I’d be happy to make you whatever you’d like.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you should make me something.” The idea of that seemed odd. She was the one who waited on people, not the other way around. “I can find my way around a kitchen. I’ll just get ready then come down and make myself some eggs. If that’s okay with you.”
He nodded. “Whatever makes you happy, miss.”
If only everyone was as agreeable as Stanhill. She shut the door, then jumped into the shower. Half an hour later, she walked into the kitchen, her hair still damp but her makeup done. The space was magazine-worthy. Miles of granite countertops, stainless steel appliances and windows that filled the work space with natural light. Oh, the sweets she could cook up in here…
Stanhill sat at the table, reading a local paper. He looked over the top of it. “There you are, and don’t you look lovely?”
She glanced down at her lavender sundress and little white cardigan. “Thanks, I wasn’t sure what to wear for tea.” Fortunately, she’d packed a few cotton dresses. They didn’t take up much space, and this was the South, after all. “You’re sure you don’t mind me rummaging around in your kitchen?”
“Not at all.” He put the paper down to bend his head toward a door near the far wall. “Just stay out of there.”
“Basement, right?” She curled her fingers against her palms. There was no way she could pretend to accidentally open that door now.
“Right-o. Shall I show you where things are?”
“All I need is a pan, some eggs and the butter. I’m sure I can figure it out. Oh, and coffee. Lots of coffee.”
Hugh wandered in. “I could use some of that myself.”
It was unfair that a man could look that sexy while half asleep and unshaven. Her fingers itched to touch the stubble darkening his face. At least he was wearing a robe. Although, besides his pajama pants, there didn’t seem to be anything else on under it. Except for a thick silver chain with a quarter-sized disc hanging off it. The stone in the center was carved with some kind of design. The deep vee of naked chest beneath the chain was far more interesting, however. She forced herself to turn, open the fridge and search for the eggs and butter. “Morning.”
He sat and grunted a reply, further solidifying his position as a night owl. “You look nice. Did I miss something or do you always dress up for breakfast?”
“Tea with your grandmother.” The fridge was well stocked with high-end edibles. She grabbed the eggs (organic, brown, cage-free) and the butter (European, from pastured cows) and went to the stove.
He grunted louder this time. “Bloody hell. I don’t remember anything about that. I better go shower.”
“Sit down,” Stanhill said. “You weren’t invited.”
“Good,” Hugh answered.
Smiling, Stanhill handed her a small frying pan. “Can I fix you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes,” Hugh said.
Stanhill looked at him. “I was talking to Miss Givens.”
Hugh frowned.
She chewed her lip to keep from laughing. “I can get my own coffee, thank you.”
“Nonsense.” Stanhill poured two cups but handed the first one to her. “Cream and sugar?”
“That would be perfect, thanks.”
He got her the cream (also organic) and sugar (unbleached), then gave Hugh his coffee before returning to the paper.
Hugh took his coffee without a word. He stared over the rim of the cup at her. “Be careful of Didi. She’s wily.”
Stanhill noisily turned the page.
The butter was just about melted. She cast a glance at Hugh. “And you’re not?”
“Not compared to her.” Hugh put his cup down. “You have no idea what she’s like.”
Delaney cracked two eggs into the pan, tossed the shells into the disposal, then leaned her hip against the stove (stainless steel, six burner, restaurant quality). “So tell me.”
Stanhill’s paper rustled some more.
Hugh took a long pause before answering her. “She can manipulate you into allowing things you wouldn’t normally allow.”
She crossed her arms. “Like letting a strange woman into your house.”
“Exactly.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Or letting a strange man kiss you? Sorry, letting a curious man kiss you?”
Stanhill’s paper went very still.
Hugh leaned back a little, the light in his eyes smoldering with something dark and wicked. His jaw worked, but for several seconds, he said nothing. “Yes. Like that.”