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“Well… after a long time of deliberate thinking, I concluded that I could either spend our entire time together being bitter and angry with the world. Or I could accept the circumstances and make the best of it.”
“Make the best of… living with me?”
She licked her lips and averted her gaze. “I am not saying I forgive you for everything you’ve done. But I am willing to open a dialogue to understand why you’ve done the things you did. And since I am going to live here for ten more weeks, it would be extremely uncomfortable if I didn’t try to adapt.”
William nodded thoughtfully. “So… you decided to learn how to cook.”
“I wanted to try it.” She shrugged. “And I have to admit that I quite enjoyed it. I never thought I would until I saw you do it. You made it look very easy, I have to admit, and rather… fun.”
“Hmm…” he rumbled low and picked the spoon back up again, his appetite returning. “Perhaps, I can teach you some more?”
“I would— I might enjoy that,” she amended quickly.
They proceeded to eat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. William wondered if what she said was indeed the truth. If she simply wanted to enjoy her stay in the tower. And it made sense. It wasn’t easy living together under one roof if they were always arguing.
A part of him already missed her angry stares and snapping comments. But a part of him grew content with this new image of domestic bliss.
It wasn’t perfect, of course. Nothing ever was. But it was a start.
“Can I ask you something?” Victoria asked, repeating his earlier words with a sidelong gaze.
“Yes?” He nodded, still scooping up the stew from the plate.
“And please, no omissions of truth this time, no lies or deceit.” She was mixing her stew with her spoon with no apparent interest in eating it.
“I’ll try my best,” he answered, getting increasingly worried. What was she about to ask him that she requested the full truth?
Was she going to ask about his past? About his love for her perhaps?
She turned to look at him and bit her lip. “Where did you learn to bake?”
William let out a chuckle, all tension leaving his body. “In France.”
“You lived in France?”
William nodded. “Yes, my… um… father, I suppose that’s what he is, he paid for my schooling there when I was about thirteen years old.”
“You learned to bake in school?” Victoria set the spoon down and, in a completely unprincesslike gesture, placed her elbow on the table and propped her cheek against her palm, listening intently.
William let out a brief huff of laughter. “Not exactly. But a baker lived next to the school. He would get up early in the morning, about four o’clock, and start baking. And right when he opened the doors for customers, I would run in with a coin for my loaf. I’d never had freshly baked bread before that, you see.”
“You didn’t?”
He shrugged. “Not unless I stole it.”
To his surprise, she let out a choked laugh. Then she looked at him, laughter still shining in her eyes. “I should have expected that.”
He smiled. “Well, this was the first time in a long time—ever—that I had money. And as powerful as the duke was, believe it or not, he didn’t share that much with me. So, I always anticipated the money running out. But I wasn’t ready to give up the fresh bread.”
Victoria’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward in anticipation, not even noticing that she was doing it.
“I asked the baker to teach me, and surprisingly he agreed. It meant I had to sneak out of my dormitory every night, because, naturally, we weren’t allowed to leave our rooms at night. But I could easily pick a lock and leave, then return before breakfast without anyone being the wiser.”
“Hmm…” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “And did you run out of money?”
He bit his lower lip, thinking through his answer. “Not really. Mostly due to the fact that I had always complemented my savings with other types of income.”
“Mhm…” She nodded. “Stealing?”
