The familiar scent of pastry filled the air, though her eyes were soft yet firmly affixed upon her Bertie. She did not mind sharing him with a chocolate or fruit tart. One day soon, she would present a pie of her own to him. Perhaps he would like some sweet buns even. Oh the possibilities. And yes, dear readers, she was thinking naughtily, puns intended. Because she was a merry widow, she knew what sweet temptations she would be able to sample when the time finally came to consummate their highly proper courtship with each other. If only he would forget about propriety for one night, she mused as she watched him size up the sweets. She wished he would look at her the way he looked at those cherry tarts. Why, it was almost indecent the way he gazed, and she sort of looked toward the pastries herself, imagining other acts involving food. She wondered if he would find the treats sweeter served upon parts of herself. No wonder his moustache twitched. If she had one, hers would too.