Page 42 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl

‘Let me say, firstly, you have become much more than a servant,’ he said. ‘You have become indispensable to the success of my endeavour here. The staff is happier than they have ever been. The guests are happy. The tables are more profitable than ever. You may think I have not noticed the way you have made things run more smoothly, but I have.’

Oh. This was about the club. Not about... She shook off her feeling of disappointment. He appreciated her work. She should be pleased.

She had actually thought he might not like the changes she had wrought, making sure some of the young men did not dip too deeply, teasing them into good spirits when they lost and celebrating the occasions when they won. The very rare occasions.

‘Thank you. Your words mean a great deal.’

‘I wondered if you would like to become a partner, with me and Pip.’

‘A partner?’ She stared at him blankly. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected such an offer. As usual, her thoughts had been focused on far more carnal matters. Shame filled her.

He must have taken her silence for doubt because he quickly added, ‘Don’t answer now. Think about it. We will discuss more at dinner.’

A vision of her little cottage in the country flashed into her head. It was larger than before. A great deal larger. Was it possible that such a dream could become a reality?

He got up with a smile. ‘I should leave you to dress.’

She winced. Right. She was still in her dressing gown.

He lifted a lock of hair from where it draped over her shoulder and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. ‘If I may say so, your hair is quite beautiful.’

Speechless, she watched him leave.

Never in her life had she felt quite so confused. One moment he was talking business, the next he was offering compliments intended to make her blush.

She wasn’t sure if she was on her head or her heels. And, truth to tell, she was feeling like a woman for the first time in a long time.

Was it possible she was losing her heart, when she had sworn she would never do so again? Or was she just missing the pleasures of the flesh?

Knowing herself, the latter was more likely.

Damien put down his knife and fork and lifted his glass. ‘My compliments to the chef. That was absolutely delicious.’

Happiness made her heart feel lighter. ‘Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it. I expect you are used to a great many more dishes when Monsieur Chandon prepares your meals, but there is no one here to eat leftovers.’

He glanced down at a pair of entreating eyes. ‘Except this dratted dog.’

She smiled. ‘Well, yes. But I don’t think he has a very discerning palate. He would be just as happy with raw meat.’

Damien grinned. ‘Without a doubt. And I am just as happy with a few plates of delicious food, than a whole table full of stuff I do not recognise covered in slimy sauces that taste nasty.’

‘Oh, no. I am sure Monsieur Chandon does not make anything so unappealing.’

He grunted. ‘I like food I can recognise by names I know.’

‘Hmm. Then I hope you don’t dislike the dessert I have made.’

‘Apple pie?’ he said hopefully.

‘Eclair, with a chestnut purée filling.’

She got up and went to the sideboard and brought back two chocolate-topped oblongs.

‘I love eclairs,’ he said. He had spent many afternoons gazing longingly at a tray of them in the window of a nearby patisserie in Marseilles. Watching them disappear and never able to afford a taste—unless he managed to steal one.

He grimaced. ‘I like them with custard inside, though. I don’t know about chestnuts.’

‘You won’t know, until you try them.’ She placed the plate in front of him.