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“Leave it to me,” he said, picking up a broom from the corner. Efficiently he began to sweep a path for Gertie, cautioning, “Mind your step, miss. You go on with what you was doing.”
Gertie sent him a grateful glance and hurried back to the tables, while Mad swept the broken porcelain into a dustpan.
Pleased by Mad’s willingness to help, June turned back to her work. She began to carry a pan of batter to the oven but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Mad at the sink. After having seen how far behind Gertie had fallen in her work, he’d apparently decided to take up the slack. He’d removed his coat and rolled his sleeves up his well-muscled arms and was now busy washing bowls.
There were blinks of surprise among the cooking students and staff as they noticed him doing the washing up. It was common knowledge that scullery work was far beneath a coachman’s rank.
Every domestic servant was keenly aware of the tasks that fell within his or her purview. A housemaid would never polish the family’s shoes: That was something only the footman did. A footman never changed bed linens. The housekeeper never stirred a pot in the kitchen, nor did the cook ever dust the drawing room. And no male servant would have been caught dead washing so much as a teacup; anything to do with dishes was specifically women’s work. But if something needed to be done, Mad was always ready to lend a hand, and never worried about the “he” or “she” of it.
As June continued to the oven, she heard two of the students whispering about Mad, one referring to him as “a gentlemanly sort.”
June realized she wasn’t used to viewing Mad from any kind of distance. They were always at close quarters in her kitchen at Westbrook House. But tonight she was discovering how others might see him. Not as a man who was troublesome or dangerous, but one who was helpful. Even gentlemanly.
He moved between the tables, collecting scraps bowls. As he came to take June’s bowl, she looked up into his light gray eyes and an odd but pleasant shiver chased down her spine.
“It’s right kind of you to help,” she said.
“No trouble.” The lock of hair had fallen over his forehead again, tempting her almost unbearably to stroke it back into place.
To June’s intense annoyance, the student working beside her, Lavinia Pennypacker, reached out to rest her fingertip on the image of Bob the dog on Mad’s forearm. “What’s this tattoo mark for?” the young woman asked flirtatiously.
Mad avoided meeting the young woman’s gaze as he picked up a bowl. “Just a picture, miss.”
“But why—” Lavinia began.
“Best not go botherin’ Mr. Maddock,” June interrupted curtly.
“It was only a question,” Lavinia protested.
“Miss Pennypacker,” came Mrs. Bannsright’s crisp voice, “what thickening agent is best for beef tea?”
Lavinia looked blank.
“Arrowroot,” June muttered to her.
“Arrowroot, ma’am,” Lavinia replied brightly.
“Correct,” said Mrs. Bannsright. “We try to avoid the ‘patent’ thickeners from the shops, as one never knows how they may have been adulterated . . .”
For the next two hours, Mad worked tirelessly to assist Gertie with clearing, washing, and carrying supplies to the students as they practiced their recipes. By the end of the class, all the tables had been wiped, and stacks of clean dishes and pans had been stored neatly in their cupboards.
In front of the entire classroom, Mrs. Bannsright presented Mad with a box of sponge cake. “Your assistance this evening has been invaluable, Mr. Maddock. The class extends its sincere gratitude.”
Looking abashed, Mad replied humbly, “It were an honor, ma’am. All you good, clever ladies learning to cook scientifical food for sick people—proper important job, it is.”
And June watched in astonishment as Mrs. Bannsright practically melted into a puddle of treacle. “I do hope you’ll return for the next class,” the superintendent said.
One of Mad’s rare, shy smiles emerged. “I’ll come back at Miss Rummage’s say-so.”
The entire group immediately demanded June’s reassurances that the coachman would return.
Queenie will never believe this, June thought in bemusement. Somehow, a man who was too dangerous for Millbank Prison had just become the star of her cookery class.
Chapter Sixteen
Metropolitan Police Criminal Investigation Department
Assistant Commissioner Ethan Ransom
