She bowed her head to hide another furious blush as she curtsied. “Thank you, my lord. I do hope you enjoy the remainder of your evening.”
He nodded again, waved to Mrs. Amesbury, then dashed out of the kitchen.
“Go after him,” the portly cook said while pointing at the door. “Never in all my life has anyone ever recited a poem to me for my coddled eggs.”
“Yes, indeed,” Marcie chimed in as she rushed to peek after him. “Such a handsome man! He had all the girls sighing. And him an earl too, my lady. You best go get him afore one of them other ladies snaps him up.”
Felicity shooed them away, refusing to take their words to heart. “He was merely flirting because he thought me one of the servants. You know how some gentlemen can be. If I went out there and revealed my true identity, he would be beside himself trying to find a means of escape.”
Mrs. Amesbury shook her head and clucked like a nesting hen. “You have the wrong of it, my lady. Surely you do. Have you no mirrors at Broadmere Hall?”
Felicity ignored her even though she wished upon all her being that what Mrs. Amesbury and Marcie hinted at were true. That Lord Wakefieldwasattracted to her, and if he knew who she really was, he would seek her out for her company and not merely her ample dowry. Past experience had taught her all about that awful tendency, too. The road to matrimony for love was treacherous and cruel.
She shook the unhappy thoughts away. Time to return to her first love: cooking. “Marcie, are the almonds finished blanching? If so, I can start grinding them and get those treats out that door before Lady Atterley decides to make a personal visit to the kitchens.”
“She will understand,” Marcie said. “She knows well enough how the vicar and Lady Urnstall have never met a bit of food they would turn away.”
“But Lady Felicity be right. If no food goes out that door soon, Lady Atterley will come in here and discover her, then Lady Serendipity and His Grace will soon follow, and they’ll be giving her a harsh scolding.” Mrs. Amesbury shooed the maids back to work. “We do not wish our visits with our Felicity stopped. Off with you now. Check those rout cakes, and surely those biscuits are done by now too.”
“And I shall get to those almonds.” Felicity busied herself with setting the egg coddler aside and clearing away Lord Wakefield’s plates. She needed to be helpful. Just as she had promised. It didn’t matter that she didn’t possess the courage to run after the earl and tell him who she really was. No matter how badly she wanted to, she just couldn’t bear to see the truth in his kind eyes when he discovered that the kitchen maid who had cooked his eggs was really a plump wallflower, sister of a duke, and worth a hefty dowry. His ode to the fair maiden who had coddled his eggs would change to a sonnet dedicated to gold. It would be crushing indeed to discover him to be asilver-tongued devil looking for coin rather than the pleasure of her company.
She crushed the blanched almonds in a stone mortar and added a little rosewater to keep their oils from separating. But try as she might, she couldn’t keep her mind on her work. Lord Wakefield’s kind eyes and that infernal poem filled her thoughts, making her wish…
She shook her head. “Silliness,” she said under her breath as she added the sugar and ground the paste even more. “Do we want pretty little square cakes or shall I shape them into fruits?”
“Little square cakes be fine,” Mrs. Amesbury said, then shook a finger at her. “And then you wash your hands and be getting yourself back out there and finding your earl. Please, my lady. Do it for us. It will give the footmen something exciting to share at the table tonight when we all sit down to our supper.”
“He is not my earl.”
“Seems to me the man would follow you to the ends of the earth for your coddled eggs,” Marcie said as she filled another tray with raw rout cake dough.
“He was hungry. A famished man will follow anyone for food. They are much like dogs.”
“Felicity Bethianna Jasmine Abarough!”
Felicity cringed. Serendipity had such a powerful way of saying her name. Just like Mama had the time Felicity caused quite a fire in the kitchen and nearly burned down the townhouse.
She turned and smiled at her sister standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
The high color to Serendipity’s cheeks and her pinched expression spoke volumes. “We need to return to the festivities, sister.” She spat the words like a hissing cat.
Felicity sighed. This battle was lost, and she didn’t wish to get Mrs. Amesbury or Marcie into trouble with Lady Atterley. She wiped her hands clean, removed her apron, and carefully folded it back into the tidy little bundle that fit inside her reticule.
“Where are your gloves?” Serendipity reached for the apron, but Felicity refused to let her take it.
“They are in my reticule. Give me a moment, Seri. What is your hurry?”
“The party misses you, sister. Gentlemen are lining up to fill your dance card.”
Felicity huffed as she pulled on her gloves, stuffed the apron back inside her bag, and cinched it shut. “Mama would not approve of your lying.”
“Mama also would not approve of your hiding.”
“It is not really hiding when you always know where I am, now, is it?” Felicity refrained from smirking, knowing it would incense her sister even more. “I was out there for dinner and quite a while afterward, and not a single gentleman spoke to me other than Lord Smellington, the Marquess of Debt.”
Marcie snorted, and Mrs. Amesbury shooed her into the pantry. “Beg pardon,” the cook said before following the maid and closing the door behind them.
“The new Earl of Wakefield finally arrived,” Serendipity said. “You have yet to meet him, and dare I say, he is quite the handsome fellow. His uncle, the sixth earl, was an enormous cod’s head when it came to understanding the dangers of gambling, but I have yet to discover anything ill about the seventh. He is reported to have come from landed gentry and was quite successful in his own right.”
