He shook his head. “No, but I do plan to marry.”
“It won’t be with me,” she said, toasting the statement with the glass of water in her hand. “Regardless of Dorrie’s prediction.”
He toasted her in response. “I agree.”
They were again focused on each other, and she wasn’t sure if learning more about him had aided or undermined her desire to keep him at arm’s length. “Are you pursuing a love match?”
“No. I believe as long as the two people involved are evenly yoked, share similar values and outlooks on life, love isn’t a requirement.”
“I see. Well, you don’t have to worry about me being a candidate. We aren’t equally yoked at all. You have wealth. I cook and clean for others because I have none. You have strict boundaries on how life should be led, I don’t.”
“True, but if swindling is your way of life, why are you doing domestic work?”
“You haven’t earned the right to know the answer to that question.” And probably wouldn’t in the short time they’d be together. The details of what had come to be called Fanny’s Plan were for family only.
“I apologize for sticking my nose in places it doesn’t belong.”
She inclined her head in acceptance of the apology but felt no need to offer him one in return. What the family did with their money was none of his business.
They returned to their food.
After a few moments of silent eating, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and asked, “Is there a recipe for gumbo?”
“I suppose, but each person makes it their own way. Why?”
“I’d like to take it back to Boston so I can enjoy it as often as I like.”
“You cook?”
“No. I employ one though.”
“You have a cook.”
He chuckled at the wonder she supposed her face was showing. “Yes, I do. Her name is Kate. I inherited her when I inherited my grandparents’ home.”
Other than the moneyed Black Creoles of New Orleans, Raven rarely came in contact with wealthy members of the race. “The gumbo won’t taste the same without andouille.”
“There’s a German community with butchers back home. I’ll see if they have any.”
“And if not?”
He shrugged his impeccably suited shoulders. “I’ll have it shipped north. As my grandfather often said: Anything can be had if you have enough coin.”
“And I take it you have enough?”
“Honestly? I do. When my grandparents died, they left me everything—the house, the ships, the servants.”
She noted how comfortable he seemed with his status. His manner lacked the braggadocioand arrogance often associated with the rich, even if he did sit on a high horse. “The unmarried young ladies and their mamas must be lined up at your door every morning.”
“Most mornings, yes.”
“Have you settled on the prizewinner?”
“Unofficially, I believe so. Her name is Charlotte Franklin. Lottie for short. Educated, pretty, impeccable manners, and a good conversationalist. Our mothers were good friends.”
“But you don’t love her?”
He shook his head. “She’ll make a good wife though, and she wants to have children, which is fine with me as well.”