“No, thank you.” Chase didn’t think he could face such a magnitude of food so early in the morning. “Perhaps later, at ten or so when I’m more awake.”

“There won’t be any food left by then,” Harriet said matter-of-factly. “You’ll eat now or you won’t eat at all. We can’t afford to serve breakfast three times a day.”

“Better eat now,” Ophelia said cheerily.

“I would eat a lot if I were you,” Stephen said with unimpaired calm from where he sat, digging into a plate piled high with eggs and ham. “You won’t get another chance until noon or perhaps later. And trust me, you’ll be ravenous enough as it is.”

Chase curled his lip. “I’ll wait. I cannot stand to eat at this time of the day.”

Mrs. Ward tsked. “Stephen, please keep an eye on the captain. I don’t want him getting ill or overheated. The doctor would not be pleased if his patient was to suffer a relapse at our hands.”

Derrick lifted his gaze from the book he had opened beside his plate. “What about me? You never tell Stephen to see to it that I don’t get overheated.”

Mrs. Ward patted Derrick’s hand. “If you’d just risen from the sickbed with a knot on your head, I would indeed say the same thing of you.”

“I doubt it,” Derrick mumbled, looking as apathetic about the whole venture as Chase felt. “I wish I could stay inside today. I am halfway through the Iliad.”

Chase poured himself a cup of tea, strong and almost black, steam curling from the cup and into the air. He glanced resentfully at the unlit fireplace that graced the room. Surely the Wards could afford some firewood or a little coal.

But apparently not. Perhaps his blood was thin; certainly none of them seemed affected by the chill morning air.

He pulled a chair from the table and turned it sideways so he would be facing the only empty seat…the one Harriet would have to take.

B’God, he’d get some amusement of this day, even if it killed him. The family wanted to pretend he was Harriet’s beau, and play it, he would.

She came to take her seat, pausing when she saw him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking my tea and waiting for you.”

“That is very romantic,” Sophia informed Ophelia with a great deal of satisfaction.

Harriet didn’t move, her plate clasped in her hands, steam drifting from her eggs and ham. “I don’t want you there.”

“Where else am I to sit? It’s the only empty chair.”

“You plan on staring at me while I’m eating, don’t you?”

Despite the early hour, a smile tickled his lips. There was something delightfully refreshing about this woman. “Yes, I do. I plan on watching you eat every single morsel. I shall even comment upon the amount you are able to consume and wonder aloud how you stay so trim.”

Stephen chuckled. “I say, Captain, you’re in good spirits this morning!”