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“Come," he said gently, for he knew she'd been through travail. "I sought you out amongst your labors to bend my knee and plead that you leave the dust and spiders and mouse droppings to come and lounge awhile and perhaps partake of luncheon."
Interestingly, she blushed. "I can't do that," she hissed under her breath.
"Why not?" he asked, deeply diverted by her reaction.
"The other servants."
He blinked. "I assure you, I do let all my servants partake of luncheon."
"But if I am with you..." Her blush deepened.
He cocked his head, studying her, entirely baffled. "I didn't mean luncheon as a euphemism; however, I'm entirely happy to adjourn to my rooms right at this moment if that is-"
"No," she said with what some might take as unflattering emphasis. She rolled her eyes as if he were the one being difficult, which, to be fair, he often was. "Let's go have luncheon."
He smiled. "Splendid!"
She looked at him a little shyly. Absolutely enchanting. "I'm dusty. I'll go wash first and meet you in the dining room, shall I?"
He bowed with a flourish. "I await your presence."
She looked flustered at that and he was very tempted to perhaps lean her up against one of the tables and-”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Sin

“When everyone arrived at the formal garden, lunch had been laid out on the terrace by unseen hands. Bowls of strawberries and frosty buckets of champagne waited beside iced platters of salmon and dill, sliced cold flank steak and a salad composed of all the kitchen garden's earth-bound magic. A tiered cake stand held scores of macarons- pistachio, chocolate, raspberry and more exotic lavender and vanilla, thyme and honey, rose and tea, each topped with the corresponding herb or flower.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden