“Of course.” He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “A beautiful girl arrives to my room and I’m not yet dressed? Adding clothing to the equation is generally the last thing I’m considering.”

Ah. It wasn’t her. Any woman would qualify. “I see. Well, perhaps you’ll have better luck with the next girl who comes along.”

“Shit.” Frowning, he dragged a hand through his damp hair. “That wasn’t what I meant. I’m not flirting with anything in skirts, Alice. I meant you. Only you.”

“No need to spare my feelings.” She pushed off from the door, determined to put their relationship back to rights. Lessons, recipes, that was all. Anything else was impossible.

Kit darted in front of her, not touching her but still making it impossible to pass. “I am not sparing your feelings. How many more times must I mention your appeal before you believe me?”

“I assumed you were being charming, lying to make me feel better.”

“Then let me quickly dissuade you of that notion. I was not lying and I do find you attractive.”

Chapter Five

Kit watched Alice’s face as she absorbed his words. She really had no idea of her appeal—and after watching her interact with her mother, he was beginning to understand why.

Mrs. Lusk didn’t let Alice get a word in edgewise. She rolled over her daughter, as if Alice was of no consequence, treating her little better than a dog. Kit had seen the way Alice shrank in her chair this morning when her mother started talking. Hence why he’d interrupted their conversation, because he’d been desperate to see a little joie de vivre return to Alice’s expression.

He did feel badly about the dressing gown business. Alice was innocent and not up for his usual tricks. By teasing her in such a fashion, he’d disrespected her. Not wearing a collar was one thing; inviting her in while nearly naked was quite another.

More than anything else, he didn’t want to scare her away.

Finally, Alice’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a tiny smile. “Shall we begin our lesson?”

Thank God. Relief cascaded through him and he gestured to the chairs. “After you.”

When they were settled across from each other, she pointed to the bed. “I put the recipe for poulardes à la Portugaise on the coverlet.”

“Excellent. That is Preston’s favorite.”

“I agree, it is delicious. However, tell your chef not to rush the steps. Time is required for the flavors to develop.”

He arched a brow. “It almost sounds as if you’ve prepared the dish yourself.”

“Me? No, of course not. But I have watched Angelo make it many times.”