Page 12 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“Bacon,” he said wistfully. “Bacon and eggs and some good bread spread with butter.”

“Oh, stop!” she said, clutching at her belly and laughing. “That’s just cruel.”

“When we get to my home, I shall fatten you up with bacon and eggs, and bread and butter, and cake and chocolate, and porridge too, if you like. Anything the lady wishes.”

“I shall grow as fat as the Prince Regent if I eat all that,” she said, turning back to the kitchen and opening a cupboard to look inside. She pulled out a jar and removed the top, peering inside. “Besides, I am no longer a lady, am I? I do not think I shall be welcomed by your family now. Perhaps once, but….”

“Nonsense,” Chance said, though he knew it was true. “I shan’t hear it. Nothing has changed, you are still a lady. Though… won’t you tell me why you ran away? What prompted you to do such a thing?”

“Bacon fat!” she exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon?” Chance said, perplexed.

Odette turned around, holding a jar aloft.

“Voila! It is bacon fat,” she said, eyes bright with satisfaction. “Now we can have pommes de terres sauté.”

“Oh.” Chance let out a breath of laughter.

“I wonder if there are any herbs left under the snow,” she mused. “They would be very good fried with herbs.”

“I’ll look,” he said, reaching for his stockings.

“They are still all wet,” Odette protested. “I can go.”

Chance shook his head, already pulling on his boots. “You prepare the potatoes, and I shall find the herbs and some honey, and then we shall eat like kings.”

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he stood up and went to her, then planted a kiss on her nose before he grabbed his coat and headed back outside.

Not too much later, they were sitting by the fire, the scent of bacon lingering in the air. The potatoes were crisp and golden and flavoured with rosemary, and she had cooked the carrots in the honey with some thyme.

“My word, Odette, I think this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten,” Chance said, shaking his head. He speared the last potato slice and chewed with satisfaction.

“I’m sure it can’t be, really,” Odette replied, though pleasure shone in her eyes at his words. “It is just our circumstances but… it is good. C'est délicieux.”

“You’re delicious,” he said, the words out before he could think better of them.

Still, he found he did not regret saying them. The blush that tinged her cheeks was adorable.

He got up and cleared their plates away.

“Well, that was a breakfast fit for a king, but sadly this monarch must see to his own horse. Poor Ransom will think he’d been forgotten.”

“I’ll come,” she offered at once.

“Oh, there’s no need to go out in the cold. I can manage.”

But she was already putting on her half boots.

“I want to,” she said. Odette looked up at him through her lashes and let out a breath of laughter. “I need some fresh air and exercise after all those potatoes. Besides, the wind has calmed, and it has stopped snowing now.”

The sound of her happiness, light and musical, rioted through him and Chance wondered at how it made him feel. If he was honest, he had avoided nice girls. Nice girls were a serious undertaking. They meant marriage and responsibility and settling down. When he’d come back from the war, he’d been incapable of taking anything seriously. He’d point blank refused. He’d experienced too many years of seriousness, of life-and-death gravity, and it had taken its toll.

For the last year and a half he’d lived for pleasure, for laughter, as though he could have enough fun to compensate for the poor devils who’d been killed out there and would have none ever again. Nonsense, of course, but it had made a kind of sense to him at the time. He’d parted ways with his mistress recently, after having made rather a fool of himself and calling out Aubrey Russell. Pistols at dawn. Blasted idiot. Chance had believed Aubrey had been seeing Dolly ‘The Dasher’ Dashton behind his back. Not true, as it turned out. Thankfully, they’d called the duel off and got drunk together instead. Aubrey was a good fellow. Decent. He’d been head over ears in love with Lady Violette Greyston and not at all interested in Mrs Dashton. He’d heard Aubrey had married Lady Violette last month, and Chance had felt oddly envious, despite not wanting to get married, because of all the fun he’d been having. Hmmm.

“What is it?”

Chance looked around to see Odette studying him, and realised he’d been frowning out of the window.