Read Accidental Peers 03 - Compromising Willa for Free Online

staff had gone out of its way to impress their prestigious guest on such short notice.
    Turning to Hartwell, Mother said, “Tea, Your Grace? Or lemonade?”
    “Lemonade, if you please. I am quite partial to it.” He flashed that scoundrel’s smile in Willa’s direction. “I find myself drawn to the paradox of how something so tantalizingly sweet can also be so tart.”
    The footman entered with the elements necessary for tea. Willa scooted forward to unlock the tea caddy, wondering how anyone could prefer lemonade over tea. Nothing competed with a perfect blend.
    The duke’s dark brow furrowed. “Lady Wilhelmina brews the tea?”
    “No one prepares it like Willa,” said Mother. “Although the mistress of the house usually has the honor, I concede to my daughter’s obvious mastery.”
    Feeling Hartwell’s eyes upon her, Willa opened the caddy and selected from among the special variety of leaves. Once the rich distinctive aroma of fermented tea leaves wafted into the air, she promptly forgot all about the duke and everything else. Her senses alert and engaged, she concentrated on her preparation, the calming sensation of formulating the perfect brew settling deep in her bones. She measured an ideal mix of green and black leaves from China before adding her own distinctive ingredients—a bit of dried orange rind, a hint of rosemary, and pinch of cinnamon. She frowned to see they’d brought out the silver teapot. China teapots produced better-tasting brews, but allowances had to be made when a duke came to call.
    She added the mixed tea leaves to the pre-warmed pot and nodded for the footman to pour boiling water over them. The humid steam drifted upward, carrying the beginnings of the brew’s aromatic scent. Willa inhaled, both savoring and assessing the aroma. She closed the top of the teapot and wrapped a cloth around it to seal in the heat during the brewing process.
    Satisfied the tea was steeping properly, she looked up to find Hartwell’s inky blue eyes studying her as if he could see right into her soul. Her skin tingled and her heart thudded. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away.
    “Willa.” Mother’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Have I told you Lady Barnes is desperate for your tea recipe with thyme in it?”
    Hartwell blinked, breaking eye contact, and Willa started breathing again.
    The duke cleared his throat. “Perhaps I will take tea after all.”
    “Excellent choice,” Cam said. “Once you’ve tasted Willa’s tea, none other will satisfy you.”
    “No doubt,” murmured Hartwell.
    Willa’s ears burned. “One lump or two, Your Grace?”
    “Three, if you please.” His piercing gaze held hers. “I have a tendency toward overindulgence.”
    Suddenly remembering the tea, she gaped blindly at the pot, unable to recall how long she’d let it brew. She poured the steaming dark amber liquid into each cup, hoping she’d timed it properly. At least the brandied color appeared correct. The pungent smell of fresh tea, with a hint of citrus coupled with the sharpness of rosemary, filled the air, satisfying the senses. She counted out three lumps for the duke and then moved onto her family members, taking care to prepare each cup according to their individual tastes. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Hartwell took his first sip.
    He sniffed it, very subtly, but Willa caught the almost undetectable action because she always did the same herself. Then he tasted it.
    “Excellent,” he pronounced. “Full bodied and aromatic with a slightly tangy finish.”
    Warmth spread through her, and it had nothing to do with the tea since she hadn’t sampled hers yet. Taking a sip, she could only agree with his assessment. Her special concoction tasted full and lively on the tongue, with just the right touch of astringency.
    Cam reached for a sandwich. “Hartwell, I was telling the ladies that you were in India.”
    Mother crossed both hands flat over her chest. “Yes, how exotic,