The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,22
glancing about. “Forgive me, but I do not see a hired cook or chef anywhere.”
“Only because you insisted you do not need one.”
“And I don’t.”
He scowled. “There’s an excellent cook at Fielding House. I’ll have her make something for you.”
“And let everything I just bought go to waste?”
“If you’re set on the tea buns and stew, you can give me the recipe and ingredients to pass along.”
It was Ida’s turn to scowl at him. “No.”
“No?”
“There’s pleasure to be found in creating something yourself – a sense of accomplishment you won’t acquire from anything else. You’ll see.” When he simply stood there, staring at her without moving, she sighed. “No one will know besides us.”
A crease appeared upon his brow. “Why would you say that?”
She shrugged. “Because you seem like the sort of man who wants to keep playing the part he’s been assigned – the one in which he mustn’t associate with fallen women or engage in domestic activities.”
“Miss Strong—”
“The food will take less time to prepare if you help me. Naturally, I will not force you to do so. I won’t even judge you for choosing not to, but if I were you, I’d rather join in instead of just sitting there watching me work, which I imagine will be rather dull.”
Deciding she’d said enough on the matter, Ida went to locate a measuring jug, a bowl, and a spoon. When she turned around, she froze.
He arched an eyebrow. “What?”
She swallowed while doing her best not to look too surprised at the sight of him even though she was keenly aware that she was failing miserably. In the short time she’d had her back to him, he’d removed his hat and gloves along with his jacket, and was now in the process of rolling up his shirt sleeves.
Catching herself, Ida pointed to the kettle. “We need warm water to activate the yeast. Maybe you can heat some while I measure the flour?”
A knowing smile tugged at his lips as he crossed to the stove, almost prompting Ida to curse. The blasted man knew he was gorgeous. More than that, he knew she’d noticed. With a deep inhalation intended to steady her nerves, Ida did her best to focus on what she was meant to be doing rather than the unbidden and most inappropriate urge she’d had to reach out and touch him.
“I have to admit, this is actually fun,” he told her once they’d mixed everything together, and he’d been given the honor of kneading the dough. “It’s almost like boxing.”
“Maybe you should get all the men who frequent Gentleman Jackson’s to start baking. It would be good practice.”
“It’s certainly harder than it looks – good work for the muscles.” He looked up from the bowl and met her gaze for a brief second. Amusement danced in his eyes and Ida’s stomach immediately tumbled over. With his hair all mussed and flour marring his cheek, it was easy for her to forget who he was and pretend they were from the same class.
“I think that’s good. We’ll cover it now and set it aside for half an hour while we prepare the vegetables and meat.”
“You’ve clearly done this before,” he said an hour later once the stew was simmering on the stove and the tea buns had been placed in the oven. “Did your mother teach you how to cook?”
“Yes.” Ida gave him a sentimental smile and proceeded to make a fresh pot of tea. “She thought it a useful skill to pass on to me, and considering how my life has turned out, I’m exceedingly grateful she did.”
A mournful silence followed during which Ida wasn’t sure if he was feeling sorry over the loss of her parents or over the loss of status she’d suffered. Perhaps it was both. To her relief, he didn’t offer apologies or voice his regret, he simply said, “She gave you a better foundation than I received from my parents. I’m not sure I’d have the skill required to survive if I were to lose my station.”
“You would figure it out.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“And I beg to differ. Do you have any hobbies?”
“A gentleman hardly has time for anything else.” There was levity in his voice and yet she was certain she heard a hint of disparagement too. “My favorite pastime activity is riding.”
Ida winced. “I’ve only been on a horse once. Didn’t much care for it I’m afraid.”