He’d taken it to the pub and asked Hannah to warm it for him, so he hadn’t technically lied when he told her it came from the pub. At the table, he opened the bottle of chardonnay that he’d brought, poured them each a glass, and sat down with her to his left. He liked having her there. He wasn’t surprised to find her china was patterned in yellow and blue. “You like yellow and blue.”

Her smile was forced, didn’t seem to quite belong on her face. “The combination reminds me of the sun and sky on the loveliest of days.”

He found her to be so much like sunshine herself that she brightened the dullest moods—until last night. Now, she was the one needing brightening.

His cook’s chicken slathered in a tart orange sauce was one of her specialties and one of his favorite dishes, yet Fancy ate with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been given an old shoe to gnaw on. Even the wine, an excellent vintage from his cellar, held no appeal for her.

“I inherited coal mines in Yorkshire.” It was a boring thing to admit, but he was unaccustomed to the quiet between them and wanted to bring forth her true smile.

His words seemed to pique her interest a bit, at least enough that she reached for her wine. “Where you grew up.”

He nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be off managing them?”

“I have an excellent foreman who sees to matters. He sends me reports. I do occasionally visit.” More often when he retired to the country after the Season ended.

“Did you ever work in the mines?”

“A few times. Backbreaking labor, but it gave me an appreciation for the men who toiled within them.”

“Do you use children in the mines?”

“In spite of my father’s numerous faults, one of his redeeming qualities was that he didn’t believe in child labor. Except when it came to me. He resented that I should have a childhood. Thought I should take on responsibilities as early as possible.”

“My family would have kept me a child forever if they could have.”

“They only sought to protect you.”

“Because they all knew the truth about my father. I can’t seem to stop thinking about him.” She took a long sip of the wine, nearly emptying her glass. He promptly refilled it.

She ran her finger up and down the stem, and he couldn’t help but think about how much he’d like her stroking it over his jaw. Only he wasn’t here for his needs. He was here for hers. “He’s not worth your thoughts.”

“I know, and yet I hardly know who I am any longer.”