“Phooey,” Lisa gasped, grabbing at Christiana’s arms to steady herself. “You win.”

Christiana bit her lip, and reached back to steady Lisa, but she was watching Richard warily as she did. Her heart sank when he rose from the table and came around toward her, sure he was about to admonish her for racing about the house in so unruly a manner. However, he paused before her, and bent to kiss her cheek, whispering, “Your hair looks nice this morning.” Straightening, he asked, “Ready for breakfast?”

Christiana nodded wide-eyed and allowed him to lead her to the sideboard.

Where George had insisted on a variety of foods available to him in the morning, it seemed Richard had requested a much more conservative selection. This morning the sideboard held breakfast items she was more used to, plum cake, baked eggs, sausages, and hot rolls. Smiling she picked up a plate and quickly made her choices, bypassing the baked eggs but taking one of everything else.

“No eggs?” Richard asked as she reached for a slice of plum cake, having to rise up on tiptoe to reach over the rest of the food to the plate on the back of the sideboard.

Christiana tensed and sank back on her feet, but said, “I don’t care for baked eggs. Our cook used to boil them for me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize. I prefer them baked myself, but I’ll tell Cook to make both in future.”

Christiana relaxed and smiled at him, then turned back and rose up on her tiptoes again to get a slice of the plum cake.

“Er . . . Christiana, I think you forgot something.”

She glanced toward him in question, and then down toward her feet as she saw where he was looking. Realizing that her position revealed her bare feet, she released the cake and dropped self-consciously back to her heels again.

“I doubt she forgot,” Robert said with a laugh, piling sausages onto his plate next to Richard. “She was forever running around barefoot at Madison.”

Recalling Grace’s words, when Richard glanced at her with surprise, Christiana straightened her shoulders and said, “My feet get hot. I’m more comfortable barefoot and most of the time see no reason to don shoes unless I’m leaving the house or have company.”

Richard nodded. “I see. That’s fine. I just thought in your rush that you had forgot them. If you’re more comfortable without, then don’t wear them.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” he asked with surprise.

“Well, George said—”

Richard silenced her by catching her by the chin and urging her to meet his gaze, and then said solemnly, “I am not George.”

She met his gaze, and then nodded equally solemnly. “No, you aren’t.”

Smiling, he turned back to the sideboard and Christiana watched him for a moment, and then let her breath out and turned away to head to the table, thinking that maybe Grace was right. Maybe she could be herself with this man. Maybe he wouldn’t hate her for it as George had.