She’d worn sturdy boots that morning, and brought her own warm cloak and bonnet downstairs. Soon enough they were on their way, and he led her toward the woodlot.
He said nothing until they were well past the kitchen gardens. “I need to ask questions you may not want to answer in front of other people.”
What on earth could he want?Panic filled her. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Tell me, Miss Westcott, have you always been your aunts’ cook?”
She laughed in relief. “Only Aunt Violet’s. She pretends I’m only supervising. Aunt Flora—Marchioness of Gilford—won’t let me near the kitchen. She’s determined that I must be a proper debutante, even after six Seasons.”
“Why do you do it?” He wrinkled his brow.
“It makes me happy,” she answered simply, unwilling to expand on that.
“You are certainly an excellent chef. I would rate some of your dishes as equal to fine meals I’ve had in Paris and Vienna.”
Her heart warmed at the flattery but sank at the next question.
“What about it makes you happy?”
“I like creating something admired by people, even if none of them know I’m the one doing it. The creative process intrigues me,” she replied.
“Intrigues you how?” he asked.
Bel’s nerves settled in the face of his genuine interest.
“Combining ingredients in various ways, with various spices and flavorings results in different—sometimes surprising—results. It is a kind of practical chemistry,” she said before she thought about her words.
“Chemistry?” he pounced on the word.
Bel breathed deeply and came to a decision. Honesty mattered. Better sooner than later. “I find chemistry fascinating.” She shot a glance at him. “When Mr. Davy speaks?—”
“Sir Humphry Davy? You’ve attended his lectures?” He couldn’t keep shock from his voice.
Bel stiffened her resolve. “Yes, and not, as the gossips say, because ladies are drawn to his looks. His lectures were the closest I could come to university lectures. I went whenever I could get away from my aunts. His accident with nitrogen trichloride was such a tragedy. I would never attempt such a thing.”
“You’ve attempted other experiments.” It wasn’t a question; he studied her closely.
“I keep a laboratory outside Aunt Violet’s kitchen. It’s one reason I like it here.”
“But how marvelous! My grandfather will love you.”
His grandfather?She stopped her steps and turned to peer into his face. His hazel eyes held hers spellbound. She looked away first and resumed walking, unable to manage the intensity any longer. “And what of you?” she asked. “I bared my soul. Can you do the same? What were you doing in London that spring, in Cecil’s circle of all things?
“I was invalided home from Spain where I had contracted camp fever. They didn’t expect me to live, and even when I came to, I could not shake it. They sent me home to recuperate. Effects lingered.”
“You were in the military? I must have known that, but somehow?—”
“I didn’t act much like a soldier. I hardly left the bottom of a brandy bottle that spring, so discouraged was I to be so weak. All I wanted was to rejoin my regiment. The army was my life.”
“But you never went back!” She swung around to look at him, and they paused in the shelter of the trees.
“No,” he said softly. “I was called to the family estate.”
She struggled to choose words carefully. “It is never good news when a family member dies, even if one benefits.”
“My cousin, alas, was not a good man and wasn’t seriously mourned. But benefits? It didn’t feel like it. The weight of thefamily, the estate, and the lives of many fell on me. I was some months adjusting. But there was Grandfather, encouraging me.
“Your father had preceded him?”
