He turned toward the lieutenant, breaking the tart in half, and handed him a piece.
On second thought, perhaps today would be absolutely brilliant. I could endure the lieutenant’s visit if it meant watching him fall into a pastry trap with my brother. How fortunate that his arrival coincided with Rus’s thievery.
I fought a smile until both of them threw the entire pieces into their mouths. Predictable, indeed.
Edward
Duringthecountlessballsand dinner parties I had attended since settling on English soil, not once did I ever fight so hard to control my expression. I would not offend the viscountess on my first day by wincing after tasting a strawberry tart prepared in her kitchen.
In fairness to myself, the tart in question held very little trace of strawberry, as the filling was caked in what must have been a pint of salt. The Apsleys’ cook was in dire need of help in the kitchen if this was the sort of treats that came from within. My heart went out to the family for having to endure such hardship, even Miss Apsley.
Until I met her gaze and noticed the smug grin she wore.
Russell Apsley shifted on his feet next to me, his eyes so round he resembled an owl. He pressed a fist to his mouth, and a sort of snorting sound escaped him. I could only assume that he, like myself, was doing his best not to succumb to a fit of coughing or spit the tart out entirely.
I swallowed hard, but the salt had dried my mouth and throat to such an unbearable degree that I choked. My eyes burned with tears. This was worse than drinking seawater, something with which I had a great deal of experience.
“Are they not the best tarts Cook has ever made, brother?” asked Miss Apsley, false innocence in her tone and expression.
Mr. Apsley stared at her, though his eyes appeared to roll into the back of his head more than anything. He spoke, but his voice was raspy. “Helped Cook in the kitchen, did you, Netty?”
Miss Apsley lifted her chin. “I did, as a matter of fact. Perhaps I am not so predictable after all, though I cannot say the same of you.”
She had set him up?
A chuckle escaped me, which only made the dryness in my mouth worse. Gracious, but I had never wished to cough so badly. My insides were surely shriveling like a date left to dry in the sun. At least I could take solace in the fact that the prank had been intended for Mr. Apsley alone. Not that Annette would forfeit an opportunity to make me miserable. She must be elated to have killed two birds with one stone with her salt tart, since both Mr. Apsley and I fell for it without suspicion.
My stomach convulsed, and the cough I had been holding in came out forcefully. It did nothing to help the situation, instead making me cough more. As if my body could fix the problem with enough wheezing.
It assuredly could not.
Lady Paxton pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh dear, are the two of you quite all right? Shall I call for something to drink?”
“Yes, Mother,” Mr. Apsley said. “With haste, if you please. I believe Netty has attempted murder.”
Lady Paxton’s eyes darted to her daughter, who had the decency to look a little repentant. The viscountess left the three of us in the entry hall, and within no more than a minute, a servant ushered through the door holding two glasses of wine. She offered one to both Mr. Apsley and me, waited for us to down the contents, then left with a curtsy, taking the basket Mr. Apsley had stolen with her.
“Well played, Netty,” said Mr. Apsley. “Well played. But it was bad form to torment our guest. Mother will deliver you a firm scolding for that one, as will Father, I imagine. Mother is probably apprising him of the situation at this very moment.”
Annette crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not care if they scold me. You deserved it.”
“Does that mean I deserved it as well?” I asked.
Those brilliant blue eyes narrowed, and a spark of giddiness speared my chest. I had missed these battles with her. More than I had ever imagined.
“That depends on why you are here,” she said.
I clasped my hands behind my back and cleared my throat, still suffering from the lingering effects of the salt tart. “I am at a grave disadvantage already, I see. To say I had no intention of coming because of your presence seems massively offensive, and I wouldn’t dare offend you, Miss Apsley. But that leaves me with only the option to compliment by saying my sole purpose in journeying to Kenwick was for your company and lovely face. Unfortunately, I suspect you will find that equally distasteful, so I am quite at a loss as to how to respond so as not to incur your wrath. Do advise me.”
She smiled sweetly, though it was hardly genuine. “My advice is that you leave Kenwick post-haste.”
“I shall take it into consideration, of course. But you shan’t mind if I require time to think it over? After all, I have only just arrived, and your mother has promised me a tour. I couldn’t possibly disappoint her.” I grinned when irritation lit her features, that uncontrolled passion I had glimpsed before scratching the surface. Why was she so entirely lovely even when scowling at me?
“Post-haste,” she repeated. “Come morning, I hope you have reached enough clarity to see that it is in everyone’s best interest that you leave.”
“Everyone’s?” Mr. Apsley scoffed. “No, no, no. I am entirely enthused by his presence.”
“Because you know I do not wish for it,” Annette spat.
