Liberty for Paul by Rose Gordon Page A

served in the kitchen. Since it had always been just him eating, he’d seen no reason to use the dining room. Perhaps now that he was married he ought to ask Liberty where she preferred to eat.
    “Good evening, my dear,” Paul drawled when Liberty walked into the kitchen. “Care to join me?”
    She nodded her acceptance of his invitation, but said nothing.
    “Mrs. Siddons, why don’t you go home early? We’ll worry about the dishes,” Paul said to the housekeeper.
    Mrs. Siddons bobbed a quick thank you and was out the door before Liberty could object.
    “Why did you send her home?” Liberty hissed, clearly uncomfortable being completely trapped alone with him.
    “Because I wanted to talk to you,” Paul said earnestly, spearing a piece of chicken.
    “You could have just asked her to leave the room,” Liberty said testily.
    Paul smiled at her. “If you’re worried about being alone with me, don’t. I have no intention of ravishing you.”
    Color crept up Liberty’s face. “Good, because I’d put up the biggest fight you’ve ever seen,” she said sharply.
    Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “Would you now?” he drawled.
    She bit her lip and looked away. He could tell she had a hot retort waiting on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she wasn’t going to cut it loose. No matter. His intention tonight was to apologize. He’d find another way to bait her tomorrow. “Liberty,” he began softly, catching sight at how she bristled when he spoke to her. “I would like to apologize for what I did this morning.”
    “It’s of no account,” she said stiffly, her eyes belying her statement.
    Obviously it was of some account or she wouldn’t be blinking so rapidly. “Yes, it is. I went too far when I took your—”
    “Don’t say it,” she cut in between clenched teeth.
    “I was going to say clothing,” Paul said honestly.
    “Sorry,” she muttered, picking up a dinner roll.
    “Let me guess, you thought I was going to say chemise,” Paul said, ducking so she wouldn’t hit him if she threw her roll.
    But the roll didn’t fly like he expected. Instead, her hands squeezed it so tightly that within three seconds it was unrecognizable. “Mr. Grimes,” she began in a brittle, if not somewhat starch tone, “it’s highly inappropriate to speak of such things.”
    “ Clothing?” he asked, cocking his head. “Hmm, I may not go to London that much, but I was of the understanding clothing is what a lot of the young ladies talk to gentlemen about.” Paul heard a noise of vexation that would almost pass as a grunt emerge from somewhere within Liberty’s throat. She was itching to yell at him, he could tell.
    “Some do,” she said flatly, still clenching her used-to-be dinner roll.
    “So then what’s the problem?” he asked, his lips twitching at the sight of her reddening face.
    She glared at him.
    “Oh, is it because the young ladies talk about gowns, bonnets, ribbons and the like and I was speaking of undergarments?” he asked innocently, taking delight in the way she bristled again. She wouldn’t be able to hold her resolve much longer if he kept this up. At some point those walls she’d erected were going to come down, and not only was he counting on it, he was going to enjoy watching it.
    “Mr. Grimes,” she nearly bellowed. “It’s bad enough you had your filthy mitts on it; please refrain from reminding me of the tragedy my chemise suffered this morning.”
    Paul grinned at her. “I do believe Joshua has just marched around the city seven times,” he mused aloud.
    “What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her eyes shooting daggers at him.
    “Nothing, my dear; nothing at all,” he murmured, picking up his dinner roll and biting off half of it.
    Shaking her head, Liberty ignored him and focused on her dinner.
    “Liberty dearest,” Paul said sweetly, causing her angry eyes to snap to his. “Perhaps since you’ve ruined your roll,” he gestured to the mangled