She couldn't be real; no one got this excited over strawberry tarts. Then she smiled, at him and at her miniature feast, her eyes shining with joy. Patrick decided maybe people just forgot to get excited over such things, and it was their loss. In that moment Amelia proved that the simplest things gave as much pleasure as great luxuries; more, even.
He was in danger of being smitten.
"You shouldn't have paid for all of this on your own. I insist on giving you something for the trouble," he said, taking up his seat again.
"No," she managed between dainty nips of an egg. "Money is not a concern for me. Your company is payment enough."
He arranged some food on his half of a long paper and considered his next words carefully. "You truly have no one else to care for you, beyond your grandfather?"
Her face turned down. "No, not a soul. My father was lost at Waterloo when I was still a baby. Mother died of a fever the next winter." She brightened over a bite of ham. "But they both watch over me, and Grandfather does, too. I used to ask if father wouldn't go to hell for killing men and making war, but Grandfather said no, because his cause was just. That put my mind ever so much at ease."
Patrick shook his head, rattling her explanation into place. "What must life have been like, just you and an elderly man?"
"I remember Grandfather well before he was elderly!" she protested, claiming a tart and pausing to admire it. "I recall him well, even in his middle forties. And we had a wonderful life together. He taught me languages and mathematics, and I had lessons for everything. He stressed the importance of feminine pursuits like riding and dancing. I miss our estate at River Glen, our house," she muttered on a sigh. "It had two good parlors and two drawing rooms, and a library as big as this whole public house." Then she perked up. "But all of that passing by has led me here, having supper with you, and that's something, isn't it?"
Patrick shifted under his guilt. "You don't suspect me of being false? That I'm only kind because you've offered me money?"
She gasped, tart halfway to her pretty mouth. "You were lovely to me in the carriage, even before you knew I had a cent! And anyhow, I've asked far more from you than you have of me."
"How do you figure that?"
"Well," Her brows furrowed to such a depth that he wondered if reality were finally dawning. "Well," she repeated again, and dashed his hopes, "I'm getting all the benefit of your name, and my adventure and my freedom. All of that for a little money. Certainly, I'm the one coming out ahead."