This single petal would stay perfect forever.It would remain beautiful and whole long after Nicholas returned home and left Christmas behind.
He turned his back to the mantel and made his way into the kitchen.
The moment he took a seat on one of the wooden stools, Miss Mitchell pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven and placed it on a square towel atop the table.
“Let them set for twelve minutes,” she said.“Then you can eat them.”
“All of them?”He leaned toward them with interest.
Her lips twitched.“If you do, you’ll be too full to try the new recipe.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘too full’ to eat biscuits,” he protested.
“We’ll see.”She gave him a knowing look.“I’m making two dozen.”
He placed his palm over his heart.“I solemnly pledge to do my very best to consume—”
“The other batch isn’t for you,” she said with a shake of her finger.“They’re for your brother.”
His mouth fell open.“Christophergets the biscuits?”
“Christopher’s potential love interests get the biscuits,” she corrected.“He’s to hand them out at will.It should work.The only thing miserable, corseted young ladies love more than biscuits is a man who lets her eat them.”
He raised a brow.“Do you consider yourself a miserable, corseted young lady?”
“No on all four counts,” she answered cheerfully.“I prefer biscuits to corsets, and I’m quite pleased to have made that decision.At four-and-thirty, I’m too old to be young.No need for pity.I consider myself a woman of science, not a spinster.”
“You’re four-and-thirty?”he repeated in surprise.
She curtsied.“Are you appalled?”
“I should hope not,” he said.“Not when I’m six-and-thirty.We’ve got decades of ‘young’ ahead of us.”
She leaned one hip against the table.“It’s easier for men.You’re not born with a ‘wed-by’ date.All your bits work indefinitely.”
“Is ‘bits’ a scientific term?”
“It’s the ‘proper young lady’ term.I am happy to use more precise vocabulary.Shouldn’t we call things as they are properly named?”
“I’m not certain it is proper to refer to a man’s—” he cleared his throat “—bits,regardless of terminology.”
Her eyes shone with laughter.“Never say you are shocked and offended.”
“Not in the least,” he assured her.“I am always pleased when my bits are of interest.We can discuss their attributes in as much depth as you like.”
“I’m fairly certain most of England has heard all they need to know about your bits,” she said wryly and held out her palm.“Flour, please.”
He started and reflexively touched the empty pocket where he’d kept the glass petal.“I didn’t bring—”
“Right behind you.Two cups, if you please.”
He glanced over his shoulder and then back to her.“You want me to measure the baking flour?”
“I intend for you to measure all the ingredients.”She affected an imperious stance.“‘He who ate them, baked them.’”
He stared at her.“I am… fairly certain that’s not a phrase.”
“I just coined it.”She wiggled her fingers toward the counter.“Are you done measuring?”
