“You did.” She deftly poured, then handed him the larger of the two cups. “I’m hoping that you’ll indulge me and try a taste. I’ll even join you, just to prove that there’s no hemlock or eye of newt mixed in.” She perched daintily on a wooden stool, lifted a cup to her pink lips, and tilted her head. “Not bad, but you may prefer to add a lump of sugar.”

“Absolutely not,” he said gruffly. “Wouldn’t want to mask the flavor of toad and newt.”

She raised her teacup, amusement shining in her eyes. “Cheers, Mr. Peabody.”

Shit. He’d forgotten she didn’t know who he was. But it didn’t matter. “Cheers, Miss Kendall,” he said, before taking a drink of the earthy, potent, but oddly soothing tea.

They sat and sipped their tea in comfortable silence for a while, and when she offered to pour him some more, he agreed—just so she might stay a little longer.

When she rose to clean her cup and the teapot, he stood, but she waved him back into his chair. “Finish it up,” she urged. “And if you nod off, don’t worry about me. I’ll let myself out.”

He chuckled at that. “I won’t fall asleep,” he said confidently. “And the hour’s grown late. You should permit me to walk you home or secure you a hackney cab.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, “but thank you.”

He opened his mouth to insist, but thought better of it and contented himself with watching while she ran a dishcloth over the small table where the plant sat, lifting the pot to dust beneath it. Then she retrieved the cooled teakettle and carefully poured water into the thirsty, cracked soil. The sickly plant only had three yellowish leaves left on it, but it looked grateful nonetheless, perking up under her ministrations.

“You have a green thumb,” he said, his voice sounding unexpectedly groggy to his own ears. “Do you enjoy gardening?”

Her face took on a dreamy, ethereal quality. “Very much so. There’s nothing more satisfying than watching a garden grow and change and thrive.”

“I can think of a few things more satisfying,” he said, half-amused, half in awe.

“Plants give us food, medicine, and beauty,” she said. “For me, they also bring a sense of peace—a tangible connection to nature. A feeling that I’m part of something bigger.” She paused and shook her head. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“I’m glad you told me,” he said sincerely. It seemed important that he knew one true and important thing about her—before she walked out of his door and his life, never to return again.

“And now,” she said playfully, “I think you should tell me something about yourself. Just so that we are even.”