The plump matriarch of the kitchen arched her graying brows nearly to the ruffle of her white cap. “Oh dear?”
“I used whisky to steep the vanilla beans last time, and it did smell rather…uhm…strong.”
Cook chuckled and shook her head. “When you use whisky for the vanilla beans, you have to take extra care to keep your oven from getting too hot and overcooking your biscuits on the bottom before the middle sets. That batch was a bit dark on the bottom.”
“You mean burnt.”
“They did take a bit of scraping.” Cook tapped Felicity’s recipe again. “Make a note about your temperature and try again. At leastyou learnt from it.”
A clock chimed in the distance, making the maids scurry out of the room for a last check of the parlors. Cook took inventory of the biscuits and cress sandwiches already prepared and waiting on the trays. “You best brush off now, my lady. ’Tis calling hour.”
Felicity’s stomach churned at the thought of sitting in the parlor, waiting for Lord Wakefield to arrive. “I cannot stop midway. It would be too wasteful.”
Cook trundled back to her side and eyed the bowl of partially mixed dough. She leaned over and sniffed. “No vanilla at all this time?”
Felicity shook her head. “Lemon in this batch. I used cocoa in the ones that are in the oven now.”
Walters appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. “You have a caller, Lady Felicity. A Lord Wakefield.”
“Thank you, Walters,” she said to humor the dear old man. Lord Wakefield surely hadn’t arrived as soon as the calling hour struck. No man had ever been that eager to call on her. In fact, no gentleman had ever called on her at all. Poor, sweet Walters was probably confused because Merry had told him about their expected visitor. “I shall be there shortly. Which parlor?”
The aged butler blinked his bleary eyes as though he had just awakened from a nap. Without a word, he turned and shuffled out of the kitchen.
Cook shook her head. “God bless him.”
“Yes,” Felicity agreed, laying odds that Lord Wakefield had not arrived at all. “God bless him, indeed.” She returned her attention to her bowl of dough. “Now, should I add more zest from the lemon or the juice, since it still has no scent?”
“More zest, but scrape it good and fine. No one wishes to bite into a chunk of lemon peel. That’ll turn bitter right quick, it will.”
Felicity set out to take Cook’s advice and finish up, since calling hours had just started, and Lord Wakefield couldn’t possibly be there.After refining her notes, perfecting the dough, and cutting it into dainty squares and baking it, she smiled as she pulled that particular batch of biscuits from the oven. “Oh, these look so much better and smell divine. I adore lemon.”
Cook nodded in agreement. “Those biscuits look quite nice, my lady.”
Fipps showed up in the kitchen doorway. “Lady Felicity—your caller is waiting.” He had a pained look, as if he feared he had gravely erred. “Walters assured me he told you. In fact, I overheard him before His Grace summoned me to the library. Do you wish us to send Lord Wakefield away?”
Felicity pressed her hands to her rapidly heating cheeks. “He is really here?”
Fipps remained as staid as ever. “Yes, my lady. Lord Wakefield awaits you in the front parlor.”
“Oh dear. I thought poor Walters was confused again.” Felicity pulled off her apron and turned to Cook. “Am I all right?”
Cook caught hold of her hands and brushed the flour from them, then wiped flour from her face as well. She nodded. “You are quite right now, my lady. No flour to be seen. Shall we send in a few trays and some tea? Or do you prefer lemonade?”
“Tea, please. And this newest batch of biscuits, since they are warm from the oven.”
“Right away, my lady.”
Fipps calmly waited at the doorway as if nothing was amiss. “Lady Merry is there also, my lady. Shall I fetch Lady Serendipity as well?”
“No, let us leave my eldest out of this for now.” Wishing she had donned her blue muslin with the delicate white lace rather than the much more relaxed, soft green creation she wore, Felicity shook the thought away. It was too late now, and she had already kept the poor lord waiting entirely too long. She hurried down the hallway.
“Lord Wakefield,” she said as she breezed into the room. “Doforgive me for keeping you waiting.”
The smiling gentleman, even more handsome than he had been in Lady Atterley’s kitchen, jumped to his feet. “Think nothing of it, my lady. Your sisters kept me quite good company.”
Sisters?Felicity bit the inside of her cheek as she forced a smile at MerryandSerendipity. She should have known Serendipity would never allow Merry to remain in the parlor unaccompanied with a gentleman for very long.
“I would be lost without my sisters,” Felicity said, only partially meaning it. As one of seven, sisters could be such a chore at times. She seated herself, trying not to think about the state of the man’s manor and garden. It wouldn’t do to bring up the subject in front of Serendipity. “I fear when I work out new recipes with Cook that I lose track of time.”
