Daniel was “sweet on me” and opined that I could do better than a scruffy deliveryman. I expected Mr. Davis to tell Mrs. Redfern exactly who the man had been and make it clear he did not approve.
Instead, he let out a snort. “Preposterous. Mrs. Holloway is not walking out with anyone.”
I almost argued with him—he knew Daniel came to visit me often—but I held my tongue.
“I told you, Mr. Davis, I know nothing of the matter,” Mrs. Redfern answered. “I came to warn Mrs. Holloway what is being said of her. She is free to defend herself.”
“Meddling Mrs. Beadle saw nothing of the sort,” Mr. Davis went on. “Mrs. Holloway was very upset last night—there was a death at the Crystal Palace, where she went to hear improving lectures.” He waved the newspaper, indicating that a story about the death lay within its pages. “I was comforting her. The man Mrs. Beadle saw was me, and no, I have no amorous intentions for poor Mrs. Holloway, nor does she for me.”
Tess listened with avid interest, and my mouth dropped open, but I could not speak.
Mrs. Redfern regarded Mr. Davis with surprise. “Mrs. Holloway returned very late. I heard her come up to her room after one o’clock.”
“I was up very late myself. Checking the wine cellar to make sure his lordship didn’t have another go at it.” Mr. Davis finished with a growl.
Mrs. Redfern gazed at Mr. Davis for a moment in deep skepticism then she let out a breath, deciding to accept the explanation. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. Well, I shall go up and tell Mrs. Bywater there’s nothing in it. I am very happy the neighbor was mistaken.” She shot me another look, still uncertain, and strode from the room.
“Mr. Davis,” I began, my voice quavering.
Mr. Davis held up a forefinger, silencing me. With a glance at Tess, who bounced on her toes, a grin on her face, he stalked out, heading for the butler’s pantry.
I abandoned the kitchen and followed him. Mr. Davis tried to close the door on me, but I pushed into his sanctum.
“Mr. Davis, why would you—?”
Mr. Davis slid out of his tailed coat and turned from hanging it on a hook. “Because I do not wish you to lose your post, Mrs. Holloway. I doubt any cook Mrs. Bywater hired would be anywhere near as good as you, and my stomach would not thank me. Besides, aren’t we friends?”
“I’d like to believe so.” I wet my dry lips. “And I do not wish you to think less of me. I—”
He lifted his forefinger again. “No need to explain, Mrs. Holloway. We all make mistakes, and I know you are a respectable woman. But I am curious. Was it the vicar?”
I blinked in amazement. “Mr. Fielding? Good heavens, no.”
“Ah.” He deflated. “I had hoped. A vicar of a poor parish could do worse than taking a cook to wife. Not, again, that I wish you to leave. That means it was McAdam.” Mr. Davis looked displeased.
“Mr. McAdam is a fine man,” I stated. “Not a scoundrel. He is more than what he seems.” Mr. Davis did not know the extent of that, nor could he ever find out.
“Too many women have been taken in by a gentleman’s disarming manner.” Mr. Davis shook his head. “It usually ends in tears.”
“I assure you, there is nothing untoward between Mr. McAdam and me.” I conveniently forgot the many times Daniel had kissed me. “He was, as you say, comforting me, because yes, I was upset about the death. Lady Covington’s stepdaughter. It was a terrible thing.” I faltered.
Mr. Davis took up the newspaper, his glance sympathetic. “We shall say no more about it. I am happy to look after you, my friend, but please do not allow Mr. McAdam to comfort you again within sight of the neighbors.”
“I will bear it in mind, Mr. Davis.”
We exchanged a glance of understanding, and I left him.
* * *
* * *
I returned to my intention of visiting Lady Covington. I would have to invent an excuse to placate Mrs. Bywater—I could not simply tell her I wished to pay my condolences, as cooks were intended to carry on with their duties even if the sun fell out of the sky.
I opened my notebook after Tess and I had sent the breakfast dishes up in the dumbwaiter, and I looked over the ingredients list for the spiced custard. Cinnamon, cloves, star anise . . .
“Oh dear,” I said in a