The Way to a Gentleman's Heart - Theresa Romain Page 0,21
asked now, her voice tinged with humor. “Mr. Grahame, is that right?”
Mrs. Brodie always had names right. “We’ll still need a new kitchenmaid in the long term,” Marianne answered. “But Mr. Grahame’s help means I won’t have to hire someone while we’re preparing for the dinner.”
“Very good. I’ll leave the hiring up to Mrs. Hobbes,” said Mrs. Brodie of the housekeeper, “and will instruct her to get your approval on all kitchen staff. And I will trust that Mr. Grahame will know his place.”
The words reflected Marianne’s own thoughts, making her smile. “I’ll see to it that he does.” For he was at her side each day, at last, and that night, she would have him in her bed again.
Perhaps she could even persuade him to stay.
Chapter Six
THREE DAYS UNTIL THE Donor Dinner, and if Jack hadn’t come to London to help, Marianne knew she’d be tearing her hair out.
Not that he’d come to London specifically to help her. But still, it had all worked out for the best. He was a part of her life again and more essential every day.
April had crashed into May with a wave of heat, making meal preparations an ordeal of perspiration and hurry. The stolen hours of rest were slow and cool and sweet in comparison.
Jack was with Marianne now, sitting at the long worktable in the slow hours of early afternoon when luncheon was complete and the final preparations for dinner still ahead. It was the last moment of leisure they’d take, probably, until the grand dinner was past.
He’d asked about her favorite things to cook, and she pleased herself by giving him a thorough answer. Settling them each with a great mug of tea laced with honey—she’d made use of that honeycomb after all—she paged through her book of handwritten recipes and notes to show him some of her favorites.
“This was the first dinner I ever prepared as cook, head of the kitchen, after Mrs. Patchett retired.” She pushed back her cap to scratch at her hairline, remembering the heat and panic of that day. “Underdone lamb and a jumble of over-roasted vegetables. You see how many notes I made about the ovens? Each has a personality of its own. If I ever move on to a new kitchen, I’ll have to learn the ovens all over again.”
Jack sipped from his mug, brows arching quizzically. “Overdone and underdone, and that was one of your favorite things to cook?”
“Hardly a triumph, you mean?” She smiled. “At the time, it was horrid, but in hindsight, I’m quite proud of it. The young ladies probably didn’t enjoy eating it, but it fed them all the same. By making that meal, I realized I could do the job here of cook, even if I wasn’t doing it as well as I wanted to.”
Jack drew the book toward him and looked over the notes. “There’s no question you can do the job now. I’ve never eaten so well as I have this past week and a half.”
“Flatterer.”
He grinned. “Sometimes I am, but not at the moment.” He drank more tea, turned a page. “Chocolate cream tarts? Big masculine creature that I am, I shall swoon at the sight of this recipe. Why do you not make those every day?”
A surprise for Mrs. Brodie’s birthday two years before. Those had been fun to make—and to sample. “Any pleasure can get wearisome, even chocolate cream. But it’s been too long since I made them. Maybe I can include a tower of them in the dessert course at the Donor Dinner.” Her fingers flexed for a pencil and her foolscap sheets of planned-out courses.
A warm hand overlaid her own. “No. Please. I didn’t mean for you to add more work to your endless list. I was merely envying those past people who were able to taste your tarts.”
“That sounds like a smutty joke.”
“Good. It was meant to.” He leaned closer, speaking into her ear. “And grateful I am that I’ve been able to taste your—”
“Stop,” she hissed, looking around the kitchen. Sally was stocking supplies, moving about from larder to pantry to worktable, and might overhear anything, anytime.
He arranged his expression into one of great sobriety. “Stopping now. Perfectly proper. Didn’t mean anything smutty.”
Marianne drank from her own mug of tea to cover a smile.
“Changing the subject to one of which you might approve.” Jack nodded toward the cook’s assistant, just entering the kitchen from the meat safe. “I see Sally carries a book of her own in her