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“Please, be gentle,” she sighed, laughing bitterly. “When you collect your winnings, I mean.”

Anthony said nothing at first. He wore a curious smirk which he held on her, and Caroline prepared herself for the worst, certain he was going to ask for something that did not cross the boundaries of their agreement but danced around them ever so dangerously.What could he possibly ask for? And will I have the will power to deny him?

Their eyes held and she felt a lump rising in her throat. Facing one another, less than a foot apart, she tried not to flush as she pictured his request, as she imagined how far she might be willing to go without crossing that line. She needed to be strong. She needed to be?—

“You!” Anthony commanded suddenly at a member of staff who stood in the corner. “Fetch the head cook. Now!”

She frowned at the suddenness of the request. “What are you doing?”

“You will see,” Anthony said as he looked away from her, watching where the staff disappeared into the kitchens. A second later and he returned with an older-looking gentleman who was wearing an apron, covered in all manner of foodstuffs; his skin was drenched in sweat and oil, the consequences of having been at it all day.

“Your Grace...” He bowed nervously. “I hope that everything was to your liking.”

“Alistair.” Anthony faced the cook. “The food was well cooked beyond even my expectations. You have outdone yourself.”

“Your Grace!” The cook, Alistair, looked stunned by the compliment. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am pleased to hear that?—”

“However, from now on there will be some changes. You are no longer to serve in this home any meal that contains even a modicum of pork, ham, or any other cut from a pig. Is that understood?”

“I...” Alistair blinked in confusion. “I believe I do.”

“I find I no longer have a liking for it,” Anthony explained simply. “And I trust this will not be an issue.”

“I will ensure it is not.”

“Good,” he said. “As to the rest of this...” Anthony swept his hand across the table, still well over filled with food. “We are finished for the evening. Eat what you wish and dispose of the rest.” He waved the food away. “

“Your Grace! Thank you, Your Grace.” He offered a deep bow. “We will.”

“Good.”

Caroline stared at Anthony, confused by what she was hearing. On the surface, it was clear enough what his purpose was, that he was simply doing a kind thing having noticed that she didn’t eat the pork chops, thus guessing she wasn’t a fan of any meat from a pig. Yet it felt like more than that.

“You don’t have to do that on my account,” she said. “Truly, there is no need.”

“You think I did not notice you this morning? Your face when trying to stomach the pork. And now, the pork chops. Correct me if I am wrong, but my sense is that you do not like meat cut from swine.”

“You... you noticed that? This morning, I mean?”

“Of course.”

Caroline didn’t know what to say. Or how to feel. For her entire life, she had been forced to stomach ham and pork and bacon nearly every week, never daring to voice her objections to her mother, while wondering why her mother had never cared to notice her clear dissatisfaction. That the duke had seen her eat once and realized this about her, it was... she felt her cheeks flushing and she looked away.

She feltseen.Noticed. For once, the center of attention and not a mere background character. And it wasn’t the first time that Anthony had noticed her either. Such that it was starting to become commonplace…

In a bid to change the topic, as she suddenly felt embarrassed, she cleared her throat and spoke up. “Your prize,” she said. “I cannot wait to hear what you ask for.”

He shrugged. “My prize? There is only one thing I want.”

She looked at him flatly. “And here it is...”

“I want you to have whatever it is that you wish for,” he said. She frowned and blew through her lips, sure that he was teasing her. “I do not need anything,” he continued to explain. “You, however, living in a new home, my sense is that there are a dozen things you might wish for. So please, ask for anything.”

“But... no,” she argued, just because she felt that she should. “You won. You deserve a prize. That was the promise!”

“My prize is your happiness.”

Had the night gone differently, she might have rolled her eyes and dismissed him out of habit—another attempt for him to try and lure her into a false sense of trust. By now, however, Caroline felt herself moving beyond this mode of thinking.