"The first order of business is to peel the potatoes and then boil them until they're not quite tender," Demelza directed as she placed a bowl with potatoes in it front of him along with a peeler. "That's very sharp so be careful."
He gave her a dubious look before picking up one of the potatoes and instantly nearly took one his fingers off with the unfamiliar kitchen gadget. "Why am I helping again?" Ross asked, figuring he'd just be in the way in the kitchen.
"Cooking is good for the soul," she informed him as she got a large pot of salted water going on the cooktop before joining him at the table to grate a mountain of mozzarella cheese.
"That doesn't sound right." Peeling potatoes was surprisingly more difficult than he had originally anticipated, but he was determined to complete this task to please her. Demezla's continued faith in him was important.
"There is nothing more satisfying than cooking a delicious meal for the ones who mean the most to you."
He had vague recollections of his mother cooking meals, but she always shooed him and his brother out so they wouldn't be under foot. His only true experience cooking was with Prudie who somehow managed to use every pot and pan in the kitchen to boil water and then she would burn it.
"Doesn't that just create a giant mess in the kitchen?" he inquired, genuinely curious since Demelza's kitchen was always as neat as a pin no matter what she was doing.
Demelza stopped her shredding a moment to laugh at him. "Only if you don't clean as you go!"
He managed to finish the last potato without drawing blood, and was feeling pretty proud of himself. "Finished!"
She looked over his handiwork and frowned a bit. "Not too bad for your first attempt at peeling potatoes, but I might suggest getting a few more from the pantry. You managed to take off a lot of meat with the peel. Try not pressing down so hard this time. Quick, short movements."
"Quick movements? You really do want me to lose a finger, don't you?" He did as he was instructed, finding the peeling going more easily even if it seemed far more dangerous. Who knew the act of cooking was life threatening?
"Of course not, but peeling potatoes is an important skill to learn. Now check the pot on the stove to see if the water is hot enough to add the potatoes." She made very short work of finely chopping a big white onion before dumping it into a waiting empty bowl while she talked before moving on to give some fresh parsley a rough chop.
"It's just bubbling," he said.
"Good, now rinse the potatoes in the sink and carefully add the potatoes to the pot of water. You don't want to splash hot water on yourself."
"Why am I getting all of the dangerous jobs?
Demelza laughed and showed him the enormous chef's knife she just finished using. "Please."
"Now what?" Ross asked after somehow managing not to burn himself with boiling water.
"We're going to parboil the potatoes."
He considered himself a fairly well educated man, but it was like Demelza was speaking some foreign language he'd never heard before. "Parboil?"
"It means to partially cook. They must simmer for 10 minutes or so until they're just starting to become tender."
"Why?"
"Potatoes are notorious for taking forever to cook so we want to give them a head start then the meatballs won't overcook and become dry."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"Very bad."
"What are we making?" Whatever the dish was it seemed overly complicated to Ross, but to be fair he didn't know how to cook much more than boiling an egg when absolutely necessary. And toast. He could make toast.
"Gratin Parmentier," she answered, "although I doubt I'm pronouncing it correctly."
"And that is?" His French was very rusty, having not had a use for it since school.
"A recipe I found that I thought you might like." She went to toss the scraps of the onion in the trash and the stems of parsley into the compost bin before washing her hands then the cutting board and knife she'd used. There was this stainless steel soap thing she liked to use and Ross had no idea how it worked, but worked it did to get the noxious lingering smells of onions and garlic off hands. It was like some wild kitchen magic only she knew.
"Please tell me there are no snails involved…" Ross could not repress a shudder at the thought of a plate full of slimy escargot while watching Demelza grab butter and milk from the refrigerator.
She wrinkled her nose, clearly feeling the same way he did about that less than appetizing French delicacy. "No, no, no," Demelza said with a shake of her head. "This is meatballs and potatoes smothered in cheese and baked."
Ross' stomach growled at the simple description. "That sounds like a French dish I can get on board with."
"I hope so," she answered, sticking a fork in one of the potatoes simmering away. "I think these are done so you can pour them out into the colander in the sink to drain while I get the bechamel going."
He watched her measure out the flour and butter in one pan and milk in another, and all Ross could think was he could spend a lifetime watching her work in the kitchen. She was tidy and precise in what she was doing and he could only assume the vicar had instilled his own kitchen habits in her. "What are you doing now?" he asked, wanting to know why she was cooking flour and butter together. That didn't seem tasty at all.
"I'm making a roux to flavor the sauce."
"How do you know all of this stuff?"
"Practice. You can get the big glass baking dish from the cupboard and put it on the table."
"Alright," he answered, proud he actually knew where the baking dishes were kept. "What now?"
Demelza glanced up from stirring the roux to give him a smile. "You can grab the package of beef mince from the fridge and put it with the onion and parsley."
He stood just off to the side watching her as she slowly incorporated hot milk into the roux, stirring and stirring while it bubbled alway until it became a thick and creamy sauce. After what seemed like an eternity to him, she added a touch of salt and grated some sort of spice into it before giving yet another stir and pouring it into a handled bowl. "What was that you put in there?" Ross asked, finding it fascinating to see all the effort and technique that went into making a meal.
"Nutmeg," she answered. "It gives a warm, earthy background note to an otherwise very rich cream sauce."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"You'll see." Demelza took her bowl of sauce to the worktable. "Right now I have to make meatballs and you're going to slice the cooled potatoes."
"I am?"
"Yes, you will need a knife and the cutting board," she gestured to the dish drain, "and the potatoes. You will want to be careful to make the slices as uniform as possible, not too thick and not too thin."
Ross retrieved the tools that were required and set up shop at the other end of the table. He set to work slicing after getting her approval on the first slice. "I cannot believe you are trusting me with this."
"You can't learn unless you actually do it," she told him, and he knew it to be true from experience. He would be her most apt pupil if it meant spending more time with her.
They worked quietly for a few minutes. Demelza set about combining the onions and parsley with the meat and a bit of a strange red spice in a jar and then made short work of creating meatballs. He took forever slicing the potatoes since he didn't want to ruin dinner with his blood everywhere. The slices turned out mostly okay for his first attempt at such precise work.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to just buy meatballs?"
"I suppose, but most store bought meatballs are Italian and this recipe is French. The flavor profiles are different. Besides, homemade is always better."
He just nodded as if he'd understood a word she'd said. As far as he was concerned, a meatball was a meatball. Who knew they came in different 'flavor profiles'? Apparently the kitchen goddess that was standing across from him. All he knew for certain was he liked eating them.
"I'm telling you, you should open your own restaurant," he said in awe as she quickly placed potato slices in a single layer across the bottom and around the sides of the large round glass dish he'd gotten out for her earlier. "People would pay good money."
"I don't think I'd enjoy that," she talked as she worked, not looking up from arranging the newly made meatballs atop the potatoes and then using the remaining slices to create walls around each one. "Cooking is very personal and intimate for me."
"I can tell." He watched her gather up the dirty dishes she'd created to take them to the sink to wash, enjoying being able to appreciate her lovely bum. The skinny jeans she wore did wonders showing off her lovely curves. It was enough to make his knees feel a bit weak thinking about her long, long legs.
"It is said true cooking comes from the heart and shows your soul," she said, distracting him from his mind wandering too far down the dirty, naughty path.
He cleared his throat and glanced away lest she be able to read exactly what he'd been thinking on his face. "I've heard that, and I can assure you it's true in your case."
Demelza turned to face him, wiping her hands dry on an old kitchen towel decorated with chickens, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. "I believe that is one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me."
"You're hanging about the wrong people then," he teased while watching her pour cream sauce in each little potato encased meatball compartment until it was nearly full.
She stopped what she was doing to give him a questioning look. "You think so?"
"Well, not me, obviously," he said quickly, his heart tripping a bit at the thought she might misconstrue his meaning, "but my father most definitely."
"Hmmm," she murmured, a smile lighting up her face, "he has said something similar about you."
"Of course he has, the traitor." Ross was going to have to have words with his father. Demelza was off limits. He did not need anyone putting ideas in her head that might send her away screaming - he could do that just fine all on his own thank you very much.
She laughed, shaking her head. "You two are so adorable."
That was not exactly the answer he was expecting and it caught him off guard. "He is going to drive me around the bend one day."
"It's just his way of saying he loves you." She liberally sprinkled the cheese she had grated earlier over the top of the concoction they'd just spent the better part of the hour creating together.
He was instantly brought back to the moment he'd last heard those words from his father. Ross had just been transferred to an army hospital in Germany and was in for several more rounds of painful surgeries in an attempt to repair some of the damage the IED had caused. His father had sounded so much older, shaky even, than he had when Ross had last seen him a year prior, partly because of the stroke he'd suffered. They'd both done a lot crying through that phone call.
"Into the oven now?" he asked by way of changing the subject away from his difficult relationship with his remaining parent. She didn't need to be burdened with twenty plus years of his family drama. Demelza had enough of that of her own to deal with.
She watched him for the span of a few heartbeats, and he could practically see her mind mulling over whether or not to pursue the rabbit hole that was Joshua Poldark. "Yes," she answered, "if you could open the door for me so I can put it in."
He did as she asked then hovered around her as she made quick work of cleaning off the worktable and washing the dishes. He helpfully dried as she washed. "So what do we do now?"
"I'm about to make a creamy balsamic vinaigrette while that bakes. You can wash the tomatoes and put them in a bowl. There is also a bag of spinach and salad greens in the fridge. Those need a wash too."
"So a salad then?"
"Yes, the main dish is heavy and rich so you want something lighter to accompany it."
"Makes sense." Ross almost wanted to shudder to think at how he used to eat before Demelza turned up in his life. He would have balked at the thought of a vinaigrette of any type on a salad, having much preferred to drown any leafy green in an entire jar of salad cream, but now he actually gave some thought to what he was going to eat; even when she wasn't around to keep him on the straight and narrow. Just what had become of him?
"Don't worry," she gave him a little playful hip check as she passed by him at the sink to grab the honey off the counter, "there will be bread on the table too. I got a good, crusty French loaf from the bakery. You just can't slather it in butter."
He nearly dropped the bag of greens when she bumped against him unexpectedly and he caught her little smirk when he glanced up to see what she was about. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Good bread doesn't need butter."
The mention of the word butter caused Ross to stop and survey the room. He immediately looked to all the places he knew cakes and biscuits resided. Demelza had imposed her own sort of order on the kitchen in the short time that she'd been at Nampara. The clutter and chaos was now neat and organized. Old, worn, or inoperable appliances and cookware were jettisoned. The cupboards had been cleared of outdated or unhealthy foodstuffs, scrubbed clean, lined with paper, and reorganized to suit her. The stove and ovens, while old, shined like new after a good cleaning with vinegar and baking soda. Even the time-worn work table looked amazing after a good scrubbing and being oiled. If he hadn't been in the kitchen during the various stages of transformation, he would scarcely believe he was in his own home.
"Speaking of butter," he started, his heart sinking when he spied his mother's empty cake plate on the sideboard, and having not recalled seeing a pie or tart in the refrigerator, "what is for dessert?"
"I didn't make dessert."
Her words were like a dagger in his heart and Ross wished he was five again so he'd have an excuse to throw an almighty temper tantrum. How could she not have made some sort of dessert? Was she ill? She didn't seem ill. They'd spent most of the early part of the day in the library. He'd marked papers while she read a book in front of the fireplace. He'd even taken her to the grocers to pick up a few things for dinner. "Have you informed Papa? He's going to be very upset by this unexpected turn of events."
"Caroline insisted on bringing something."
"Oh no."
Demelza stopped measuring honey to frown at him. "Oh no?"
"Yes, oh no," he complained, having a very difficult time getting the bitterness out of his voice, she'll buy some ridiculously fancy bakery dessert that doesn't taste half as good as it looks."
Her face was unreadable for a moment. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
"I'm glad you have more faith in her than I do," Ross lamented. Of course Demelza had faith in Caroline - they hadn't known each other long enough to know the other's modus operandi. He'd had years under his belt.
"Of course Ross doesn't have faith in me," Caroline said brightly, announcing her entrance into the kitchen, and ignoring him pointedly on her way over to greet Demelza, a pastry box in her hands.
"Ross." Dwight acknowledged him with a nod as he hung up his coat on a peg in the entryway followed by his uncle-in-law, Ray. "Off to a grand start I see."
"A French apple tart that Mrs Truscott kindly made this morning," Caroline informed the room proudly. Mrs Truscott was in charge of the household at Killewarren and kept the huge, old estate running seamlessly. "Not some impossibly ridiculous bakery dessert."
"This is perfect," Demelza said with a beaming smile, taking the box from Caroline after the two exchanged cheek kisses, "and it's keeping with the rustic theme of dinner."
The second most important woman in his life gave him a very self-satisfied grin after the first most important woman praised the dessert. Everyone in the room knew who among them actually held all of the power in the newly formed foursome. Ross was interested to see how all of this was going to shake out since this was the first time that all four of them plus his father and Caroline's uncle for an added dash of fun were interacting together. Demelza normally was very reserved.
"Did you hear that, darling Ross?" Caroline teased, finally bestowing a kiss to his cheek before removing her coat to hand to Dwight to hang up. "Demelza said it was perfect."
"I heard," he said dryly, seeing how things were going to be from here on out. Two against one. Dwight was no help because he was utterly and completely besotted by his wife.
Ross stood by and watched as Demelza put yet another man under her spell when Caroline made the introductions with her uncle. He'd known Ray Penvenen his entire life and his father counted the man as one of his oldest and closest friends. The greying bachelor certainly had a way with the ladies because he had Demelza blushing within moments. Just what he needed - more competition.
The men were unceremoniously banished from the kitchen with instructions to set the table in the dining room and while Ray and Joshua warmed themselves by the fire and caught up on all the gossip in the county. His father was full of questions about the happenings in the kitchen since the delicious smells of the gratin parmentier baking away were starting to permeate the house. It even had the notoriously finicky Tabby sniffing the air.
"Don't let Caroline get you alone," Dwight warned under his breath while carefully laying a dinner plate and bread plate at each place on the dining table.
Ross nodded, following behind his mate to lay silverware on the linen napkins Demelza had helpfully left out on the table. "Consider me warned."
"Good." Dwight placed the last plate at the head of the table. "She has taken to Demelza quite a bit over the past few weeks. She has opinions."
And by opinions, Dwight really meant she was plotting and planning Ross' life with little regard for any say he might have in the matter, or otherwise known as the standard operating procedure with Caroline Penvenen-Enys. She meant well, she did, most of the time anyway. Caroline was part of the reason he had been so hesitant to bring Demelza around, that, and he was unsure exactly what his feelings were for the lovely Ms Carne early on, not that it was any clearer. The last thing he wanted was to undergo the Spanish Inquisition, fortunately for him he expected it, and had no clue what his answers would have been.
"I'm glad they are getting on," Ross admitted, and he was pleased even if it alarmed him a bit as he was trying, and mostly succeeding, in not being too concerned about the women being left to their own devices in the kitchen. He was actually more concerned about later on when his father joined the fray.
His mate laughed heartily. "Are you really sure about that? It could get hairy."
"Nothing I can do about it now," Ross conceded, and it was true since it was all now out of his hands. He could only hope that Demelza didn't run away screaming the chaos that was his life.
"She's good for you, you know. Demelza," Dwight announced, as if there was possibly anyone else he could have been referring to.
Ross gritted his teeth. It was this exact thing he'd been trying so hard to avoid. "So you say."
"Joshua as well," his mate carried on. "He's eating better, getting more exercise, and he's taking his meds as he should. It is a marked improvement."
None of that was a surprise. Ross had two eyes and could see for himself that his father was more like himself than he had been in years. "He is very fond of Demelza and is willing to do anything to be in her good graces."
"For that we should be thankful." Dwight glanced toward the older men on the other side of the room. "I had my concerns."
"Was it that bad?"
The doctor gave him the look that said he was going to say no more on that particular subject. "He is not the only one seeming to benefit from her presence. I'm pleased you're not subsisting on black coffee any longer. It can only be good for your blood pressure."
"I'm perfectly fine."
Dwight looked him over with his practiced eye. "Are you really?"
"Yes," Ross muttered.
"Sleeping?"
"Some."
"I do wish you'd let me prescribe you something to help on that front at least."
"You know how I feel about that."
This is what Ross got for having a doctor as a best mate, specifically the one who had saved his life years ago on that desert road in Afghanistan. Dwight was more than aware of the lingering side effects of that day beyond the physical that plagued him, and he mostly kept his own council about it. Except there were times every now and then when the good doctor felt compelled to say something in an attempt to persuade him to seek professional help. Ross was adamant that was unnecessary. He had it under control, mostly.
"Gentlemen," Joshua cut in, "why don't join us for a pre-dinner drink before the ladies come in and ruin the fun." He had four glasses and a new bottle of 30-year old whisky on the coffee table and there was also a small plate of nibbles, mostly vegetables with a small selection of cheese and hard meats. Ross was glad for the sudden distraction.
Dinner was a lively affair with good food and close friends and family - none of the awkwardness or loaming silence he'd fear had come to pass.. Ross couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so much. Demelza's meal was a smashing success and it was a delight to see her inordinately pleased after so many weeks of her being so reserved. Dwight had challenged him to rock-paper-scissors for the last scrapes of the gratin left in the dish with Joshua winning after a particularly ruthless power move of just helping himself to it. The two bottles of wine Ray had supplied from his vast cellar had not stood a chance.
It was after dinner when the unthinkable happened in his sated haze. Ross found himself alone with Caroline in the sitting room while Dwight joined Demelza in the kitchen to do the washup and bring out dessert. His father and Ray had wandered off somewhere, probably a prearranged absence, but knowing them, they most likely went to supervise the slicing of the apple tart to make sure one of them got the largest piece. She smiled at him and suddenly he knew exactly how Brody felt in the movie Jaws when the shark was coming for him there at the end. All he could hope for was that he survived the encounter.
"You haven't even kissed her have you?" Caroline asked, keeping her voice low, and arching a single elegant eyebrow at him. Obviously she was just going to cut to the chase. It was going to be one of those nights. She moved from her seat across the table from him to Demelza's empty one beside him on the bench side of the table. "And don't you dare lie to me because I will know it if you do."
Ross met her challenge head on. It was always best not to show fear in the face of Caroline's questioning. "I am not going to dignify that with an answer."
Her blue eyes narrowed in condemnation as she snorted with haughty derision. "Just as I suspected and you're a fool for it."
"I-I-" Ross suddenly found he didn't have the words to adequately explain his complicated feelings about Demelza. Caroline had him dead to rights. He knew it. She knew it. So they were at an impasse.
Caroline put a gentle hand on his resting on the table, her face softening as she got right to the heart of the matter. "She's not Elizabeth, Ross."
"I know."
"She isn't going to toss you over on a whim for your cousin."
"How can you possibly know that?"
"Francis is currently preoccupied and Verity isn't the dodgy sort so..." she said with a little laugh.
It took a second, but he had to nod in agreement since the point she made was ironclad, making it difficult for him to refute. "Still," was the only counterpoint he could manage.
"But," she said, letting the word linger a moment like some dark omen, "the point being is if you wait too long to let her know how you feel you will run the risk of someone else swooping in and stealing her away."
His heart learched at the very thought of Demelza with someone else and he could feel the color draining from his face. "S-she…"
"Deserves to be happy," Caroline helpfully supplied, "and she seems very happy being here with you."
Objectively he knew Caroline was right. Demelza had really blossomed while she'd been at Nampara, taking over all the little things that had been left fallow after his mother's untimely death and Prudie being too lazy to carry through on without explicit direction. She'd been more than happy to do so as it had given her a sense of purpose while she was still off work. The first order of business had been a thorough cleaning top to bottom, everything dusted or swept or scrubbed, anything worn beyond repair discarded, furniture restored to gleaming after cleaning and oiling. The musty smells of time and age had been replaced with the bright, pleasant scents of fresh flowers, household cleaners, and lemon oil. His father had taken to having a large bundle of seasonal flowers delivered to the house every few days for Demelza to do with as she pleased which meant vases of flowers everywhere. Jud had been pressed into service to do much of the heavy lifting, a task he'd been none to pleased about, but did so with only minor complaint. The one thing Ross had loved the most during that time was listening to her singing softly to herself as she went about doing whatever. Demelza was in her element.
And for the first time in a very, very long the old house felt alive again and that was something that did not go unnoticed by the occupants.
"I know," Ross said, and he did. Demelza fit neatly into his life in ways he could have never imagined even just a few weeks prior. It was getting more difficult to come up with excuses to keep her at arm's length as their lives became increasingly intertwined.
"Then do something about it or I will," Caroline warned, giving his hand a tight squeeze before letting go just as Dwight and Demelza came through the kitchen door with dessert. His father followed while grousing about the sizes of the slices that had been divided up and Ray attempting to correct him.
"I'm sorry it's not lemon, Ross," Demelza said in apology as she placed the serving tray on the table, "but I think you will like this."
"I'm sure I will," he assured her, not being one to say no to a sweet, "but it's not your lemon cake."
Demelza met his eyes and smiled, obviously pleased with the praise he'd just given her and the look nearly felled him. It was a dangerous, slippery slope, and he was teetering on the precipice, but still there was this little niggling feeling of doubt that kept him from taking the leap. The worst of it was he could see the happiness right there within his reach, but the fear of being rejected again after laying his soul bare was simply too much.
Caroline removed herself from next to him to return to her seat on the other side of the table. "I believe I will be daring tonight and have a cup of coffee with Ross."
"To be young again," Joshua chimed in while being rather daring himself by stirring in a liberal amount of sugar into his tea right in front of his doctor, "drinking coffee after the noon hour."
"I much prefer tea," Demelza said, giving Ross a glance and a soft smile he did not miss, then she leaned into him, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. She made the most excellent coffee even if she didn't much care for it. "The coffee Ross drinks is too bitter for me."
"You're drinking the wrong coffee," he said, feeling in need of defending his beloved beverage of choice while ignoring Caroline's knowing smirk. "You ruin it with too much sugar and milk." This was exactly what he'd feared when Demelza had suggested having his friends over for dinner. She'd wanted to do something to thank them for all that they had done for her over the past few weeks. Being the idiot that he was, he'd thought it had been a good idea at the time, but now facing the reality of it he was starting to regret encouraging her. He would lay money on Caroline already planning some ridiculously over-the-top wedding for them.
The evening stretched on as the group enjoyed a very lively, and down right vicious game of Black Jack. Demelza had been tentative at first, but quickly caught on to the gameplay with help from her adoring fan club. Ray and Joshua liberally cheated with elaborate winks and gestures to help Demelza discard her hands until she got the gist of how things went - the object of the game was to have the lowest score of cards in hand when someone went out. Because they were a group of six the game was played with two decks of cards for double the risk of being left holding high cards. Caroline teamed up with her to squash him and Dwight whenever the opportunity presented itself. There were lots of laughs and good-natured ribbing and threats of retribution as the game progressed into a fast-paced chaotic mess. Demelza crowded next to him on the bench seat, pressing her thigh against his in distraction as she kept trying to peek at his cards.
It pleased him mightily to see Demelza coming into her own again. Being in friendly company, all of whom had accepted her as one of their own immediately and without question, had done her a world of good. She was more like her old self than she had been in weeks. Her happiness made him happy. It was something Ross could very much get used to.
Dwight yawned mightily just as they'd finished the latest cutthroat hand in which Joshua had claimed victory. The clock on the mantle chimed half-past the midnight hour. "I think we must call it a night. I have rounds in the morning."
"Bah," Joshua sassed, more than pleased to have vanquished his opponents yet again, "these young people need to be made of sterner stuff."
Ray chuckled, nodding. "I remember the days of playing cards until dawn then working the day away."
"Those were the days!"
"Indeed they were."
"The weekend house parties!"
"And the trouble we'd find ourselves in!"
"Oh, yes! The trouble…"
"The irate husbands!"
"The beautiful wives!"
"None of you were doctors if I recall correctly," Dwight ground out, obviously having been privy to this sort of conversation before between the two old friends. Their reminiscing was par for the course whenever they got together.
Demelza laid her head on Ross' shoulder, yawning, and hugging herself to his arm. He nuzzled his scruffy cheek against her soft hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply the soft scent of her orange blossom and vanilla shampoo. "You're tired," he observed softly.
"Yes," she answered back, "but I don't want the evening to end."
"I know," he brushed a light kiss to the crown of her head because he could, "but you need to sleep."
"Can we do this again?"
"If you wish it."
"I'll help you gather up the dishes," Caroline said a little louder than strictly necessary and pushed back from the table to stand, effectively breaking the momentary spell that had settled over him and Demelza.
"Thank you." Demelza sighed heavily then dragged herself to sit upright again a moment before getting up to take the tray of glasses into the kitchen with Caroline trailing behind.
Ross keenly missed her comforting warmth pressed against him, but knew that it was for the best. Their interactions all evening would surely be the speculation of their dinner guests for days to come. It irritated him a little, but there wasn't much he could do about now that the cat was well and truly out of the bag - Demelza was in his life. What they shared was between them and them only. Everyone else could mind their own damn business.
The evening ended with him walking his friends to their car in the misting rain while Demelza stood waiting for him on the covered stoop of the side door. He escorted Caroline over the gravel walkway while Dwight saw to his uncle-in-law in the shadowy light cast by the lamp over the barn door.
"Thank you for going easy on Demelza this evening," he told her, pressing a familiar kiss to her cheek. "She needed this after everything."
Caroline reached up to brush the faint lipstick mark from his cheek from her reciprocal kiss. "She wasn't the one I was going easy on."
"Oh?" Ross asked, his brows furrowed.
"I genuinely adore her," she continued, and that caused Ross to smile. High praise coming from Caroline was a rarity. "She's kind and generous, and just a lovely person."
"She is."
"We get on quite well. I can see us being the best of friends for a very long time."
"Why does this thought chill me to the bone?"
"It should. What she sees in you I don't know," Caroline said tartly, but her sly smile let on to her playful teasing.
Despite playfulness of her words, Ross knew the reality of the situation. He didn't deserve Demelza and all the wonderful things that came along with her. She could do so much better than him. "I don't either," he admitted softly.
"Demleza is good for you, Ross, despite what you think," Caroline said softly, growing serious.
He signed. There was going to be no end to her meddling now. "Dwight said as much earlier."
"Dr Enys is always correct in his observations."
"Usually." He opened the car door for her and stood waiting to shut it behind her.
Caroline started to get in, stopping and turning to face him once more as an errant thought had suddenly become crystal clear, her blue eyes full of mirth as she inquired, "You do realize that you're married without the benefits don't you, Ross?"