His Delectable Cook by Cerise DeLand

Author:Cerise DeLand [DeLand, Cerise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Taryn waited in his library for his guests to be shown in. He had no intention of greeting them with any courtesy. They merited none. Never had. For what horrors they had visited upon his beloved, they would surely pay. Like a vengeful Titan, he had vowed it and the day of their reckoning was upon them. He thrilled to the knowledge of swift justice as he listened to Gaylord open the front door to them and take their coats.

Only minutes ago, he had met Bess on the back stairs as she’d made her way to her room in the attic. With a feathery caress to her cheek, he had offered her reassurance for the evening ahead. Wordless, he had glanced towards the upper storey. She had understood, lifted her skirts and made her way up the narrow steps to prepare herself for the dinner.

Her arrival here at his home had been a complete shock. At first. But upon reflection, he saw in Bess the exuberance and daring of the woman he had fallen in love with years ago in her garden.

No matter. She was here now. And he would make all right in her world, as luck and hard work had made all right in his own.

The library doors opened. Gaylord, his younger half-brother and a bastard just as Taryn was, had learnt his duties well these past few weeks. Eager to be of help to Taryn in setting himself up properly in London and Dorset, Gaylord had volunteered to serve as butler. James, another of the old earl’s by-blows, was up for the job of footman. Taryn had never trusted any other people as much as he did these two siblings. The three men had banded together eight years ago and made a ripe fortune in rum, sugar and building ships. Taryn had told them of the outrage done to the woman he adored, and long before they had set sights on Bess in his kitchen downstairs, his brothers had vowed to help him and to happily continue the lifestyle of libertines with him and his lady love.

“My lord,” Gaylord announced them, standing before him with a damn bright twinkle in his eye. “Lady Rawleigh and Lord Turnbull.”

“Thank you, Tindale,” Taryn called Gaylord by his assumed last name, then ran his eyes over the skinny woman—she reminded him of victims of the plague, she was that thin. As for Turnbull, that man must have eaten all of Rawleigh’s share. Both of these villains had tried to gobble whole the estates of the Marchioness of Thorne, too. “Do be seated, my lady. My lord. Sherry, perhaps?”

The woman who might have reminded him of Bess had she any flesh on her bones or compassion in her heart, folded her hands and pursed her lips. “Lord Wentworth, I have no stomach for sherry.”

“Whisky, then?” You’ll need it. He threw her the look many had dubbed Wentworth’s Wrath.

She wiggled in her chair, arching an eyebrow to feign a blasé attitude. “Certainly not.

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