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inquired. “Anything?”
    “I th ink we are alright, thank you,” Damien said.
    “This is excellent. Thank you, Frannie.”
    “ Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, blushing. “We don’t get folks like you in here to much.”
    “Oh?”
    “All mannered and all,” she said with a nod to Susannah’s delicate handling of cutlery for the meat pie. Damien—and for that matter, everyone else in the tavern—ate favored hands over utensils. “Such a gentleman.”
    “Well someone ought to set an example,” Susannah/Percy replied. “My mother would have my head otherwise.”
    Frannie leaned against the bar and smiled dreamily. “My mum says you can always tell a good man by how they talk about their own mums. I reckon she’d say you were a good one.”
    From blushes to meeting her mum after just a pint of ale and a few bites of pie. An amazingly delicious meat pie. The crust was flaky and buttery. The filling was hot and savory. Susannah took another sip of ale. Damien had nearly finished his and she’d barely touched hers.
    “Here I’ll refill that for you,” Frannie said, taking Susannah’s—Percy’s—glass. Damien just grinned and muttered, “Sweetheart is sweet on you.”
    “I might be falling for her myself,” Susannah whispered. “Most of the women I meet aren’t so kind. At least not to me.”
    “That’s when t hey see you as competition. Frannie sees you as someone to be won.”
    “Or someone to love.” Susannah said the words softly. For all of her wealth and newfound circle of acquaintances, Susannah did not have someone to love or to rely on. When matters vexed her, she had only her maid to discuss them with. But while Abigail excelled at styling her hair, she wasn’t quite an expert in matters of the heart or high society.
    Susannah saw a similar loneliness in Frannie’s eyes and imagined that most of the men she met were far more coarse, rough, ill-mannered and possibly even unkind. She was glad to be Percy, a slight, gentle, feminine man who would was kind and nonthreatening.
    Even though Damien, beside her, was kind—for all of his wretched behavior as an adolescent boy, she knew this to be true—there was still something dangerous about him. He could overpower her in an instant, if he so chose.
    If he wanted, he could pick her up and carry her off, perhaps over the threshold to Bedford Manor. And from there, straight through the foyer, up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom where he’d lay her on the bed and…
    “Is the pie very hot?” Damien inquired politely. “You colored up for a second there.”
    “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She stumbled over the words under his knowing gaze—even though he couldn’t possibly have read her thoughts.
    “Could you get your sweetheart to serve me more ale?”
    “Sure,” Susannah said. And with a smile and a kindly worded request for “another glass for my mate” Frannie fetched more ale for Damien—her eyes on Percy all the while, though.
    “What else might you have in store for us, Damien? For that matter, what do gentlemen do all day, anyway?”
    “ I have recently discovered that it actually involves a lengthy review of accounts with our stewards and estate managers, followed by a lengthy review of correspondence with our secretaries. Then one must stomp around and act haughty and lordly for at least an hour.”
    “And here I thought you blokes just played games of cards, made ridiculous and exorbitant wagers and had pissing contests.”
    “We do,” Damien said with a sigh that spoke of fond memories. “That is, before we inherit and become responsible.”
    “ How tragic,” she drawled.
    “Indeed.”
    “I was sad to hear about your father. He was always so kind to me,” she said softly. She didn’t need to add when no one else was. It was understood.
    “Of course he wa s. You were his future daughter-in-law, whom he selected himself.”
    “When I was a babe and looked just like a Christmas ham,” she