appraised herself in the undulating mirror which hung over the dressing table. The girl who looked back at her had all the charm of a gamine on the brink of womanhood, and she smiled a little, wondering at the glow in her large violet eyes.
"Have an enjoyable evening," she called to a frowning Priscilla and went into the hallway feeling oddly elated. She realized she was alone for the first time in three days and wondered how she could spend the evening.
If only I could find someone to have a card game with! she thought as she fluffed out her skirts and ran down the stairway. When she rounded the corner at the bottom, she nearly fell over Lion Hampshire, who sat in a wing chair against the wall. He looked impossibly fresh, his cravat pure white against his tanned face, and his hair burnished in the candlelight. He was reading a book which he put aside to steady her.
"Always in a hurry, aren't you? I knew when I heard that clatter on the stairs that it had to be you." There was a sparkle in his blue eyes that Meagan dared to believe was the beginning of a smile. "Dressing in skirts hasn't altered your behavior a bit!"
Meagan swallowed an inappropriate retort, dropping her eyes instead. "I beg your pardon, sir."
Now he laughed in reality, and she stole a glance at his handsome face. His laughter was rich with an irrepressible humor that Meagan had not seen since the day she had run into him in the entry hall at West Hills. His features were transformed from cool perfection to irresistible splendor.
"You really chafe under subservience, don't you?" he said at last, meeting her eyes. "I wonder what you'd say to me if you dared..." Without waiting for her response Lion continued, "Well, where is the queen? Her court awaits her and is damned hungry."
"Miss Wade is not coming," Meagan said bluntly, unable to bring herself to make excuses.
Lion's eyes narrowed a fraction, then he smiled suddenly and stood up, his broad shoulders even with the top of her head. "That's the best news I've heard in days. Come with me."
When he put his hand around her elbow, Meagan's protests died on her lips and she found herself running along to match his strides as they crossed into a private dining room adjacent to the large public one. Cream-colored walls were bathed in the yellow light given off from the paneled fireplace, and Meagan saw that covered dishes of food were already being set on the table by two well-scrubbed serving-girls.
When the tavern keeper appeared with a bottle of red wine, Lion told him, "Miss Wade will not be joining us. You may remove the third setting."
As if by magic, Priscilla's place disappeared along with the servants, and Meagan realized that she was quite alone with Lion Hampshire. Shyness suffocated her and she wondered at it.
Lion reached across the table to pour her wine, his mouth curving in silent amusement. Blood rushed up Meagan's cheeks, and as she stared down at her napkin, she mentally shook herself. When she raised her chin to look at him, her shoulders were squared and her eyes sparkled like amethysts in the soft light.
Casually Lion began to lift the covers from the dishes, allowing their heady aromas to escape. Meagan forgot everything, including her manners, as she arched across her plate to get a better view.
A serving-girl appeared from the kitchen to ladle out the steaming okra soup, and silently, eagerly, Meagan began to eat. Each spoonful was crowded with tomatoes, okra, corn, rice, and lima beans, and flavored with bacon, vinegar, and fresh pepper. She was in ecstasy as she rolled her tongue around the rich broth while Lion watched her with detached amusement.
"I gather this dish must be a delicacy compared with the fare served in the Wade kitchen," he remarked at last.
Meagan looked up in surprise, the wide silver spoon poised near her open mouth. She had almost forgotten his presence; now she was confused by his words. As the meaning became clear, she let her spoon descend back into