Page 21 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl

What was it about this woman that caused him to lose his grip on his famous ability to charm birds out of trees? There wasn’t a woman in London who wasn’t susceptible, so the story went.

Pip would laugh his head off, if he knew how he had fumbled this one so badly.

‘You are right, my dear Mrs Lamb. Women are often underestimated.’

‘By men.’

He looked up and saw she was staring at him narrowed eyed, daring him to contradict her. Challenging.

He liked a challenge.

He finished his mouthful. ‘Are you saying that women do not encourage us males to think of them as weaker, less able, more in need of protection? Indeed, do not ladies like to think of themselves as the weaker sex, both physically and mentally?’

Her spine straightened. ‘Are you blaming women for their subjugation?’

‘It was a question.’

‘It was men who made the laws that define a wife as an extension of her husband, rather than a person in her own right. It was men who decided that an older daughter would be pushed aside by a younger brother.’

These were truths for which he had no answer. He had not thought about them terribly much, either. ‘Do you have a brother?’ He knew very well she did not, but she would not know that.

‘No. I am an only child.’

‘So you were not pushed aside?’

‘No. But I knew girls who were. What I could not understand was their meek acceptance of the situation. Or their willingness to marry whomever their father picked out, even if they loved another.’

He really had not expected her to be quite so militant. ‘This is a friend you are speaking of.’

‘Yes. A friend who gave up any chance for happiness, though she would never admit it.’

‘Because she did not stand up for herself, in your opinion.’

She gave him a suspicious glance, as if to see if his intention was to mock her opinions. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded. ‘She could have said no. Under the law, one cannot be forced into marriage.’

‘I think you are the sort of woman whom no one could force into anything. I admire your courage.’

A pained expression crossed her face. ‘Sadly, I do not believe I am at all courageous.’ She began eating again, as if to forestall herself from saying any more. He decided that it was best to change the subject.

‘And where did you learn to cook so masterfully?’

‘At home.’

‘Without wishing to pry, I would say that you were brought up to be a lady, rather than a cook.’

She frowned, looking worried. ‘Why would you think so?’

‘You are well educated, well spoken and well versed in the finest of table manners, for a start. And I noticed that among the items in your room is an embroidery hoop already decorated with the finest of stitches. Your family was never among the poor.’

She pressed her lips together, clearly deciding how much to admit. ‘You are observant, sir. It is true. My father was a gentleman. I learned to cook because I discovered a love for creating good food at a young age and I was indulged enough to be able to follow my passion. Now it is no longer a hobby, but the way I earn my bread, I am fortunate that passion and necessity collided.’

He raised his glass and smiled at her. ‘No, my dear Mrs Lamb, I believe it is I who am fortunate.’

Her eyes widened. A smile curved her lips. In that moment pleasure and beauty shone in her face. ‘Thank you, My Lord.’ She picked up her glass and drank.

He leaned back in his chair, replete with fine food and fine wine and finally able to relax. He had made her smile.

She cleared the dishes from the table and set them on the buffet.