A rich banquet of croissants, sweet rolls, fresh fruits and berries (such as grapes and cherries), cheese, smoked ham, gruel, honey and jam, smoked salmon, freshly squeezed juices, and herbal teas lay atop the trestle table. Alexander watched as the family began to dine, his eyes never leaving Evelina. She struggled to contain her nerves, failing miserably in achieving composure. Alexander knew that she was anxious. He was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode on her at any moment. It was understandable for her to feel uneasy about that.
"I hear the tomatoes are richer this time of year in Burnsbury," the Countess said between forkfuls. "I can't say the same for the soil around here. My apologies, Your Grace."
"You've arranged a splendid breakfast, Countess," Alexander said.
He knew the Countess was trying to gauge his interest in everything she'd prepared. He hadn't eaten anything safe for the grapes. She must have noticed.
"Who are you?"
