A Lady's Formula for Love by Elizabeth Everett

Author:Elizabeth Everett [Everett, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-02-09T00:00:00+00:00

15

ARTHUR READ A smudged copy of the Morning Chronicle while he sipped his tea. The kitchen was empty this time of the morning, and he relished the quiet.

In other households, he took his meals apart. Here, Mrs. Sweet had insisted he join the rest of the staff in the cheery kitchen. So much noise—laughter and easy banter, stories told and retold. He knew if life had been different, none of that would feel foreign. His parents had joked together at the table, and he remembered them having company, with a fiddler in the corner and a thick linen cloth to cover the scratched oak table.

Too long ago. No matter how hard Arthur tried, he could not stop listening beneath the noise for the whoosh of a blade or the click of a barrel being loaded.

Before the kitchen door opened, he had folded the newspaper and slipped his hand to a hidden pocket where he kept a knife.

Alice was backing into the room, using her hip to hold open the door, since she held a covered tray in both hands. She jumped and uttered a soft cry when she turned to see him sitting there.

“Good morning,” he said.

She lifted her chin in a regal manner—no doubt she’d been watching Lady Phoebe—and nodded with composure. “Good morning, sir.”

The accompanying sniff of disdain was masterful. Arthur opened his newspaper, covering his amusement with the smudged pages.

Who could blame her? He’d declined her friendly overtures in the last few weeks. He imagined Deoiridh having to work in London, far from home. If his wee sister were in Alice’s position, he knew a kind word would go a long way to warm the heart.

“Cold out,” he said.

Her eyebrow lifted like a fringed wing. “ ’Tis.”

Coals popped in the fireplace.

Arthur racked his brains for what to say. He never had difficulty talking to Violet. She was most animated when he asked her about her work. Should he try this with Alice?

“What is on that tray?” he asked.

“Tea for my lady,” she said curtly, emptying the tray onto the kitchen counter.

“Did she eat anything?”

Alice glanced at him, then away. “She didn’t. There’s nothing to tempt her with, either. Could do with a nice batch of black buns, but Mrs. Sweet won’t hear of it.”

On the counter was an untouched plate of what Mrs. Sweet called digestive biscuits and Thomas called “indigestives.”

When one fell off the counter, it bounced three times until it came to rest beneath the kitchen table.

“Well, since we can’t eat them, I suppose I could load my pistol with them,” Arthur said. “They’re less costly than bullets.”

Alice turned in surprise. “Was that . . . Was that a joke, sir?”

He considered the question. “Was it funny?”

Alice approached the table, sucking in her bottom lip. “A little.”

“Then, yes, it was a joke.”

They regarded each other for a moment across the distance. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of Alice’s mouth. Arthur’s chest filled with pride. He could do this, after all.

“Black buns,” he said.

“Sir?”

“You .

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