He nodded. She’d been deeply touched when he’d gently wiped away the dampness, and for some reason she didn’t want to soil the cloth, having an irrational thought that perhaps he would never again wash it but would keep her tears for eternity.

She shook her head. “It’s really too late now. I’ll continue to use my gloves and simply remove them when I’m done.”

“They’ll be ruined.”

They were already ruined. She noted he’d had the wisdom to remove his before they began eating. “I’ve another pair.”

Abruptly, he returned his attention to his meat pie, and she took another bite of hers. Then she felt a need to confess, “I’ve peered through a part in my draperies and caught you lurking at your window late at night.”

“I’m hardly lurking, simply looking out over the mews.”

“Not at my window?”

“Sometimes my gaze might pass over it, but it is not my intention to spy on you, Miss Trewlove.”

She didn’t know why his words disappointed her. Perhaps because she wanted him to be as intrigued by her as she was by him. “From your window across the way, you can see my bedchamber but not the perfection of what rests on the other side.”

“Are you referring to yourself?”

Her light laughter floated around them. “I’m not so arrogant as all that. Beneath my window is a small reading nook. My brothers built a bench into the wall. My mum sewed a thick stuffed cushion and embroidered pillows for it. Sometimes I sit there and read until the world falls away.”

“Don’t let my looking out prevent you from doing what you enjoy.”

“Now who’s being arrogant, to think you could stop me from doing something I wished to do? I simply wanted you to be aware that if you should see me sitting there, it’s not because I seek to garner your attention, but rather it is my habit to do so.”

“I shall keep that in mind. What will become of your shop when you marry? Will you continue to manage it?”

“I won’t have time, will I? Not with all my social and wifely obligations. Morning calls, dinners, plays—being seen everywhere. Mick still owns the building.” He’d been unwilling to give it to her because the law wouldn’t allow her to keep control of it once she married. Her husband would be able to do with it as he pleased. “He has promised to let me have a say in how it’s managed, but I won’t be working there, certainly not living there. No, Marianne will take over the running of things, although I hope to still have a hand in the teaching. Ladies married to lords do good works, you know. That shall be mine.”