Seven Minutes in Heaven(60)
“Mrs. Biddle,” Eugenia said. “I am Mrs. Snowe, of Snowe’s Registry for Governesses in London. Mr. Reeve engaged me to find a governess for his wards. I was just explaining to your good husband that Miss Lizzie Darcy managed to convince a particularly naïve dairy maid that she knew a spell for revealing true love. One of your roses was an ingredient.”
The butcher gave a bark of laughter. “We all heard about the boy who thought himself invisible.”
His wife turned to him. “Mr. Biddle, why don’t you finish with that side of beef while I talk to Mrs. Snowe.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten the boy,” the butcher said heavily. “I lost me temper and that’s the truth.”
“As would anyone in those circumstances,” Eugenia said warmly.
He took up the cleaver and disappeared into the back, revealing who was the real mayor of the village.
“Mr. Reeve and I met with the bishop this morning,” Eugenia said with her best smile. “His Lordship believes Mr. Howson is better suited to being a missionary. In fact, he is sending him out of the country immediately.”
“Gracious heavens, that’s very good to hear,” Mrs. Biddle said. “I never liked him. He didn’t eat a bit of meat, can you imagine? Just cabbage, day and night.”
“That is certainly peculiar,” Eugenia said. “Miss Lizzie was merely being silly, Mrs. Biddle. She is dazzled by her ability to influence people.”
The butcher’s wife ventured a smile. “She and her veil are well known in these parts, Mrs. Snowe. I’m sorry Mr. Biddle lost his temper.”
“Having met Mr. Howson this morning, I believe I put the blame on the vicar,” Eugenia said.
Mrs. Biddle gave her a beseeching look. “Might you ask Mr. Reeve not to take away his custom? Mr. Biddle has always been one to fly off the handle, but he’s only a blusterer.”
A deep voice came from the door. “I’m happy to restore custom, Mrs. Biddle, as long as you promise to keep your husband in check.”
Eugenia whirled about with a gasp. “I didn’t realize you were there!”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Reeve,” the butcher’s wife said, bobbing a curtsy. “The village will be better off without the vicar, and everyone will thank you for it.”
“Mrs. Biddle,” Ward said, bowing. He took Eugenia’s arm, murmuring in her ear, “I thought you might need support, but I underestimated you.”
“Once again,” Eugenia said, with satisfaction.
They climbed into the carriage to the bellow of Ward’s laughter.
Chapter Twenty-five
Later that evening
Ward had had enough.
After they returned from the village, Otis had appeared with a new version of his mousetrap. Ward had thought to lure Eugenia upstairs after the demonstration, but Lizzie had taken the initiative, and with a laughing glance over her shoulder Eugenia disappeared into the nursery, not to be seen again until the children were in bed and Gumwater announced the evening meal.
So far, the meal had been perfectly pleasant, but if Ward had to watch Eugenia moan with delight over a gâteau au chocolate for another moment, he’d probably spend in his pants like a boy of fourteen.
He wanted Eugenia and she wanted him. Presumably he should ply her with compliments, lure her upstairs, and kiss her until she wasn’t thinking clearly. But that didn’t seem right. It didn’t fit with the manner in which they talked to each other, with a blunt truthfulness that he’d never before experienced with another woman.
He decided to come to the point. “Eugenia, do you intend to sleep with me tonight?”
She laughed aloud, eyes dancing. He felt about her laughter the way she felt about chocolate. It shimmered through him and made him feel like an unschooled lad, raw and unpracticed.
He set down his wineglass, stood, and moved to her side of the table. She looked up, eyes luminous with amusement and intelligence. “I am considering it.”
He crouched down beside her, and the laugh died on her lips. “How can I persuade you? I’m tired of talking about inconsequential things.”
“Cake, sir, is never inconsequential,” she said merrily.
“Please?”
Their eyes met. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will, Ward.”
His hand slipped behind her head and he pulled her toward him, not roughly, but if he wasn’t tasting her, possessing her, inside her, soon, he felt as if he might explode.
Her mouth opened to his with a sense of rightness that flooded through his limbs. He toppled her forward from the chair into his arms, still kissing, and rose to his feet. “May I feed you more cake later, if I promise to satisfy you first?”