A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(21)

Bel looked up. “Is that how it’s sweetened, then? With sugar?”

“Why, yes. It’s sweet and cold, and …” He gave her a teasing grin. “And you could discover that for yourself, if you’d only have a taste.”

Her spoon hovered over the pale yellow ball. Beads of dew formed on the ice’s surface and rolled down to pool in the shallow glass bowl. Bel’s mouth watered, but she pushed the dish back at him. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

She shook her head, feeling indescribably ill-mannered for refusing yet another of his gestures. But of all the things for him to suggest, why did he have to suggest this?

“Why not?” He looked her up and down. “Please don’t tell me you’re concerned for your figure.”

Her face burned, and she dropped her eyes. To be sure, he would have noticed her ample figure. She’d learned some years ago that her body drew men’s notice, whether she wished it or not. And she did not. Bel was extremely self-conscious about the voluptuous curves she’d inherited from her mother—over-large br**sts, wide hips.

Though she had no wish to see those curves increase, they weren’t the reason she declined the ice. “I don’t eat sugar,” she explained. “Not unless it is imported by my brothers’ company.”

“Why not?”

“Because the sugar my brothers import is grown and harvested by free men.” She cast a pointed look at the ice. “That is likely the product of slave labor.”

Toby studied the growing puddle of lemon. “Darling, that Quaker sugar boycott—it went out with my grandmother’s generation. The slave trade was abolished more than a decade ago.”

“The slave trade was abolished, yes. But slavery itself remains legal and is still the practice in nearly all sugar-producing countries.” Bel clutched the seat iron with one hand, trying to keep a grip on her emotions. “You would offer this to me as refreshment? Tell me, what is refreshing about human bondage?”

“I don’t know. I suppose … That is to say …” He shrugged. “It’s only an ice.”

They stared at one another then, in exquisitely painful silence. Bel started to wonder if she’d made a very grave mistake. Of course, the entire engagement had been a mistake, but she’d hoped it not an irredeemable one. Toby’s infamous reputation would be of benefit in her quest to raise public consciousness, she’d reasoned. But rakishness was one thing, and oppression was another. It’s only an ice.

Of course, she reminded herself—to him, it was only an ice. He didn’t look at it and see the misery of a thousand souls served up in a chilled glass dish, as she did. He didn’t know any of those thousand souls by name, as she did.

Toby lifted an eyebrow. “It’s just going to melt, if you don’t eat it. It will go to waste.”

Bel sighed. He was right, there was no way to undo the injustice committed in the ice’s creation. Still, she shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Then you shan’t.” Toby handed the dish to the young boy tending the horses. “Here, lad. Have at it.”

“Truly, sir? You mean for me to eat it?” A dirt-smeared hand closed around the dish.

“Yes, cert—” Before Toby could even make his assurances, the boy had devoured half the dish’s contents. Wielding the spoon like a garden trowel, he ate greedily, as if the treat might disappear on its own, if he didn’t work fast. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Bel could not suppress a small laugh.

She suddenly realized Toby was watching her closely.

“Now you’re smiling. Thank God. I was becoming a bit desperate there.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you meant to be kind, but truly—I could not have enjoyed the ice.”

“Yet you can enjoy the boy’s enjoyment of it.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, though she didn’t know how to explain. Growing up as she had, she’d been acutely aware that every pleasure or convenience she enjoyed—a clean shift, a warm bath, a cool drink—came at the expense of another person’s dignity. But viewing someone else’s pleasure felt different. Safer. Last night, she’d liked watching the dancers far more than she’d liked dancing. Today, she could not enjoy eating the ice, but she could enjoy the boy’s expression of innocent delight.

Bel tried to make sense of it, but the logic knotted in her mind. Biting her lip, she asked, “Does that make me a terrible hypocrite?”

“Not at all.” Gently, he unfolded her fingers from the seat iron. She hadn’t even realized she was still clutching the metal rail. His eyes warmed as he kissed her gloved fingers. “It makes you a selfless, generous angel. And it makes me wonder how I will ever deserve you.”

Oh, and now a sweet, viscous emotion puddled in her belly. So rich, so indulgent, it made her feel a bit ill.

“You’ve given me an idea,” he said.

“I have?”

“Yes. An inspiration, more like.” He released her hand, then summoned the teashop waiter with a subtle nod. Bel watched as the two men conferred quietly. Then Toby returned to his side of the phaeton and vaulted into the seat. “I have in mind an amusement, which I am positive will bring you great enjoyment. But it requires us to drive fast. Can you bear it?”