“I took the liberty of seating us close together.”
“So we might talk?”
“Yes, and the new footman has short legs.”
Confused, she looked at the strapping figure dressed in black and gold livery standing statue-still behind the chair. “He looks perfectly formed to me.”
Dante bit back a chuckle. “That’s Thomas. The new fellow is considerably smaller, but I’m confident he will grow into the position.”
Beatrice considered Dante through narrowed eyes. “You’re being rather mysterious. From the boyish glint in your eyes, I can tell you’re enjoying this game.”
“I enjoy teasing you and hope to earn a few gasps and sighs tonight.”
She arched a coy brow. “Will you be keeping a record?”
“I shall probably lose count rather quickly.”
“Mathematics not your strong point, or are you easily distracted?”
“In your company, I’m always distracted.” He led her to the table, and the footman pulled out her chair. Dante sat opposite, for he wanted to stare at her without gaining a stiff neck. “Thomas, perhaps it’s time to call your assistant.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”
The man tinkled his bell. The thud of hurried footsteps in the hall resulted in Bateson telling the boy to walk slowly, but the dining room door burst open and Scupper appeared.
The urchin had begged a penny from Dante almost every day for the last month. And yet it had been the boy’s innocent comments earlier this evening that made Dante stop and take notice.
You all right, guv’nor?
Dante had been so lost in thought he’d almost barged into the boy. For some reason, he told Scupper about his impending meeting with the dowager, that he’d not spoken to the matron in years.
When you’re hungry, best not to think about the pain in your belly.
They’d agreed Dante would think about a better day, when he might be so full he would struggle to breathe. And then the boy said something that took Dante’s breath away.
Happen you should keep your penny tonight, guv’nor. Spend it on a piece of plum cake at Mrs Gladwell’s bakery down near the timber yard. Go to bed with a full belly, then it don’t matter wot happens tomorrow.
“Beatrice, this is Scupper, who on rare occasions agrees we may call him David.” Dante gestured to the boy who looked younger than his eleven years now that Cook had washed his face and combed his hair. “But only when entertaining guests.”
Scupper managed a bow. “Good evenin’, miss.”
Beatrice seemed more surprised by the urchin than she had the thirty lit candles. “Good evening, Scupper. So, you’ve come to work for Mr D’Angelo.”
The boy nodded. “As a footboy, miss, though wot I’d really like is to work with horses.”
“Mr D’Angelo is remarkably flexible.” She threw Dante a mischievous grin. “I’m sure he needs a new groom.”
“As a man who is flexible, it would serve me well if you were trained in various duties.” More importantly, it would improve the boy’s prospects should he be inclined to leave.
The child’s excited eyes brightened the room more than the array of flickering candles. Dante felt the heat of it deep in his chest.
Thomas took the boy to collect the soup tureen. The second they left the room, Beatrice jumped out of the chair and rounded the table. She cupped Dante’s cheeks and captured his mouth in a searing kiss that had him hard in seconds.
Just as quickly, she tore her lips from his, hurried back to her seat and gasped a breath. “Heavens. It’s rather hot in here.”
Hot? It was so damn hot he needed to loosen his cravat.
“So, you do find benevolence an attractive quality in a man.”