These responsibilities on his shoulders didn’t bother him. He had strong shoulders. He was built for this. It was Reg, his only living relative, who hated him since they were children, but liked him enough as an adult to come for a visit and never leave that made his mood so foul.
He was sorry he’d come inside. Being in the same room with her was as bad as sitting right next to her. He was aware of her. He could see her through his side vision. His neck was beginning to ache from tilting in her direction.
The only thing that made supper quite extraordinary was an appetizing little cake with some kind of fluffy, stiff sweet mixture atop it. It was set down before him on the table. In fact, one cake was given to everyone at all the tables.
“A cupcake!” the head server called out and then motioned toward Miss Locksley.
She stood up. “A lemon and meringue cupcake,” she announced. “It’s a recipe handed down to me by my grandmother. Cook and I made enough for everyone.”
A few people clapped. Most stared at her and then at her cupcake.
He held one up and examined it. Themeringue, as she called it, was white and sticky.
“It’s made with egg whites and sugar. And a little cream of tartar which, thankfully, your cook had. It’s quite sweet.
“Ingenious.” Nicholas didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into his. He sat back. He’d never tasted anything like it. “Delicious,” he called out and ate the rest.
He couldn’t help but smile at her again when after her first bite, she came away with meringue on the tip of her nose. Apparently, it was happening all over the hall, for laughter could be heard from every bench.
Nicholas ached to stand up and walk to her bench. But she was hanging on the precipice of something and he didn’t want to fall with her.
But finally, he jumped.
Chapter Seven
Nicholas stood up,turned his feet, and marched toward her table.
When he reached her bench, he motioned for Charlie Mayfair, one of the guardsmen, who was sitting next to her, to move.
“Aye, Commander,” Charlie said and left without another word.
“You didn’t tell me you were a commander,” Miss Locksley said as he sat.
He smiled. Slightly. “My fighting skills didn’t prove that I was in command?”
“I was too busy screaming for my life to notice.”
He shoved his finger into his ear. “I still cannot hear properly.”
He had a look at her hair. It was tied back with chicken wire into a tail hanging past the back of her neck. That was it. No pins, no clips, no adornments, just—chicken wire.
“I was harsh with you earlier, Miss Locksley. Forgive me.”
“What of your senses?” she asked with a playful arch of her brow.
He smiled softly and shrugged his shoulders. “They have abandoned me yet again.”
She stared at his stitched cheekbone and then sank her gaze into his. “You’re going to have a nasty scar from that slice. Who stitched you?”
“I did.”
Her eyes opened wider. “You stitched yourself?”
He nodded and forced himself to look away. He stared into Elia’s curious smile.
“How did you do it with no mirror?” Miss Locksley asked, tugging on the sleeve of his léine. “Are you crazy or something?”
“Crazy?” he asked darkly, not liking the sound of it.