“I’m not in the mood for a seduction,” she warned.
He nodded as he sat opposite her. “Agreed. I just preferred conversing with you apart from that rowdy crowd outside.” Deftly uncorking a wine bottle, he poured a small measure into her glass. “The landlady actually had some Chateau de la Brede claret. Remember when we drank it that day on the Thames? Let me know if it’s improved in five years.”
She wasn’t able to immediately reply, memories of their sensuous picnic near Richmond evoking an intense spiking pleasure. Lifting the glass, she examined the fine golden liquid, needing a moment to compose her emotions before taking a sip. Her voice when she replied was deliberately bland. “It’s perfect as ever.”
“I’ll take that as a good omen.” Grinning, he filled his glass and lifted it to her in salute. “To our future friendship.”
“What are you doing here?” she abruptly asked, not capable of so cavalierly contemplating a renewal of their relationship. She was no longer naive and gullible.
“I’m on my way north to hunt with some friends. The storm drove me off the road-a happy coincidence I might add.” His gaze above the rim of his glass was genial. “Are you hungry?”
“Very much.” She glanced at the sideboard. “The stage stops don’t offer such sumptuous fare.”
“Then let’s eat. I’ve been riding since morning.”
She didn’t need a second invitation with the savory aromas wafting their way to the table, and together they filled their plates from the numerous dishes. Over a dinner of pigeon pie, veal cutlets, steamed potatoes, peas with butter sauce, salad, plum tarts, along with a goodly portion of excellent wine, they conversed in an easy way, concentrating on impersonal subjects-the weather, the state of the roads, the king’s splendid and expensive coronation, the prime minister’s gaffe over the Sumner affair.
And much later when they’d both finished their second serving of plum tart along with an excellent Tokay, Simon pushed his plate aside, leaned back and fixed his dark gaze on Caroline. “I’m glad you’re divorced.”