Chapter Six

L ola was stupefied. Nobody would pay an officer's commission, buy back a cottage, stock it with firewood, and add pounds and pounds of flowering seeds on top. Certainly not for her. She was just a flower girl.

"You could get any of the elegant ladies from the Ton. Why me?" she asked.

"Because I need someone honest, smart, and beautiful. Most women have one of these qualities, rarely all three."

She swallowed hard. "Edmund, I would have stayed for free if you'd asked me."

"I would have added a fortune and the ruby necklace, too. I'll be gone most of the day but please be ready for dinner at seven." He turned and started off, but then paused and turned back to her. "I'll have some gowns sent to you."

The day passed quickly enough while Lola explored the house, spoke to the staff, and prepared for dinner. A black dress with intricate lace from the collar down to the cleft between her breasts had been delivered, and to her astonishment, it fit perfectly.

The lady's maid swept up her hair and teased a few curls loose that fell in ringlets. She rubbed pomade that smelled like jasmine on Lola's lips and smeared her cheeks with a pearlescent paste. Lola thought she looked like a polished piece of furniture, ready for the market.

Downstairs, the silver cutlery gleamed under the flickering chandelier light, each piece laid out with precision. The design on the fine porcelain plates mirrored the vibrant yellow, orange, and pink roses arranged in the center of the table, and crystal glasses stood ready, on the crisp white tablecloth with matching starched fabric napkins. Elegant candlesticks completed the setting. In the corner of the room, next to an elegant sideboard adorned with crystal decanters and sparkling stemware, Lola caught a glimpse of the dashing duke in formal evening attire. Even though his black velvet coat was cut to fit him perfectly, his tight bottom in the tight breeches caught her eye.

He turned to her and blinked. Lola remained in the doorway, taking in the perfection before her with hidden glee—and it wasn't the dining room she'd admired. Again, he blinked as if he hadn't seen her well, then he blinked again. His arms fell limp to his sides and he opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Lola folded her hands primly in front of her and cast him a shy smile. "You're half an hour late," she said.

He smiled and came closer. "You're radiant."

She laughed, willing her blush to cool lest he see how she felt. He only wanted her for a few days. She'd take even a few hours with him. Any minute with the dashing duke would give her enough to feast on for a lifetime.

Dinner was a feast. Lord Chancellor Marlowe, as Edmund had called him, turned out to have a gentle demeanor. He'd brought his grandson, James.

The first course arrived: four triangular open-faced sandwiches with watercress.

"What is this?" Lola whispered to Edmund.

" Paté de foie gras . Goose liver."

Lola wrinkled her nose but made every effort to eat anyhow. "Is there going to be soup and then salad?"

"Brewster sent a menu late this afternoon to change the meal according to our guests' preferences."

"It sometimes feels like a jest when they give us more spoons and forks than food on the plates," Marlowe said in a conspiratorial tone. He picked up one of the triangles and ate it like a finger sandwich.

Lola smiled and followed suit. It didn't taste as bad as it sounded.

The next course puzzled Lola further—three hard ovals in a dish.

"It's crab. An imported delicacy from Portugal. Try it." Edmund turned back to James in a heated debate about a restoration plan.

"Your Grace, if you were to get control of our land, which you may or may not, what would you do with our estate?" James asked.

Edmund used the long prongs of the salad fork then held the shell down with his knife and nudged the white crab meat out, then plop , the fork was loaded. He popped it into his mouth.

"I'm not pleased with your restoration plan," Marlowe said. "You're taking fourteen generations of stewardship to turn a fast profit. If you didn't deforest the land, you wouldn't have to restore it. Why don't you think of the future?"

Lola tried to stabilize the slippery shell, but it was coated in melted butter, and she had to be careful not to splatter her dress. Finally, she managed to use her knife to hold the crab in place.

"If I sell the wood from your land and give you a portion of it, you'll be a very rich man," Edmund told Marlowe.

Lola inserted the fork and heard a squelch and a crunch. There, now she just had to get the right angle to nudge the meat out.

"I'm rich enough," Marlowe said. "I want to preserve the legacy of my ancestors for the generations to come."

Swish! The entire crab, buttery sauce and shell included, flew through the air. Oh no!

Barnie, the butler, caught it and stuck it in his pocket. His expression didn't change.

Edmund gave Lola a deadpan stare.

James bit his lips.

Marlowe was too intent on the conversation to be distracted. "Leave my estate alone."

"I can't do that. I need egress to the sea and your land has direct access and an established port. It would be a shame not to use it."

"It is being used," James snarled. "By the people who live and work there."

"It's not. The permits have been frozen until the port is repurposed as a trading post for environmental restoration."

Marlowe threw his napkin on the table. "How did you make that happen behind my back? Who did you persuade at the House of Lords?"

"You bastard!" James rose and set his wine glass down with force.

Lola flinched as the crystal stemware clanged.

Marlowe waved to the footman for his hat. "Remember this, it's better to preserve than restore."