“Oh, I know you didn’t ring for me, my lady, and I must beg your pardon. But the young man who brought the flowers insisted upon waiting until you offered a response to the note that accompanied them. He’s been waiting in the kitchens for nigh on three hours now, and Cook has grown tired of him eating all her sweets.” Jenkinson settled the vase on a table and straightened, beaming. “I feared incurring her wrath, Lady Grenfell.”
Cook’s wrath was indeed quite legendary. She was temperamental, yet undeniably talented. It was her culinary marvels that made keeping her on—and keeping her happy—a necessity.
“Three hours,” Lottie repeated, frowning. “What time is it, Jenkinson?”
“Half past one, my lady.”
She had slept through luncheon.
“Goodness, having a miniature caller about must have exhausted me.”
Pandy’s boundless energy certainly had been taxing. Enjoyable, but taxing nonetheless.
“Children oft tend to be wearying,” Jenkinson agreed, offering her the missive. “The note, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Lottie took the sheet from her lady’s maid and unfolded it, reading the slanted, undeniably masculine scrawl.
Lottie,
Kindly consider these flowers my insufficient means of expressing gratitude for the favor you paid me yesterday. I eagerly await the favor you shall, in turn, request of me.
Pandy tells me that you are quite clever at hide-and-seek and that you were infinitely patient with Cat, who only managed to eat a small bite of one table leg on account of her being provided with a soup bone from your cook.
I am forever indebted to you. Do enlighten me as to the favor.
Suspense renders me bilious.
Yours,
Brandon
As she finished the letter,Lottie realized she was smiling. Oh, this wouldn’t do. She tamped down her levity. He wanted to know her favor already? She hadn’t even considered what she would ask of him yet. The reason he had instructed his servant to await her response was clear, however.
She folded the epistle again, holding it as she slipped from the comforting warmth of her bed. “I suppose I must provide an answer, then, so that the young man belowstairs can cease disturbing Cook.”
“It would be most beneficial if you did, my lady,” Jenkinson offered as she fussed busily over some of Lottie’s garments across the room.
Lottie padded to her writing desk and sat, taking up pen and paper.
Your Grace,
Thank you for the flowers. The gesture was unnecessary, though appreciated. I fear I haven’t had sufficient time to ponder the favor in question. I do hate the notion of being responsible for your biliousness. Perhaps a cup of tea would ameliorate your condition.
Yours,
Lady Grenfell
There.It was a subtle reminder that there must be a return to formality between them. He was going to marry soon, and she had to accustom herself to that reality. She folded the missive and gave it to her lady’s maid, who hastened to the kitchens and returned carrying a tray of breakfast and tea for Lottie, whose stomach growled as she took in the delicacies awaiting her on the salver.
“I understand why the poor fellow didn’t wish to leave,” she admitted with a sigh of pure appreciation as she tucked into her meal.
After eating, she began hertoilette, only to have it interrupted by another servant bringing the news that the letter-bearing lad had returned with yet another missive. It was passed to Jenkinson, who delivered the new note to Lottie.
She opened it, foolishly amused that Brandon had taken the time to send round a second communication.
Dearest Lottie,
Tea shall not suffice as remedy. There is only one panacea my feeble constitution requires, and it is the honor of your company.
