She crossed her arms and gave him a very deliberate head-to-toe perusal. “It isn’t hard to figure out.”
“Then you must know I live here.” He was speaking to her as if she were an infant now.
Eloise supposed she deserved it, but his manner still made her jaw clench. “Fleetingly, perhaps. As a guest.”
“Townsbridge House is my home when I am in England. It is the only permanent address I have.” He leaned forward. “I’ve certainly spent more time here than you. In response to that other comment you made, you should know that I intend to roam about as I see fit, Mrs. Lamont. No room in this house is off limits to me. Not even...”
Eloise gasped. Her eyes widened while heat rose to her cheeks.
“The kitchen,” he finished with a devilish smirk.
Anger flared within her, hot and prickly. The cad had been about to say, not even yours. She knew it as surely as she knew how to ice a cake or bake a soufflé. The arrogant mockery in his eyes was proof enough.
Initially, she’d wanted him gone because he’d been too attractive. The last thing she wanted was for some foolish fancy to get in the way of her work. Except she’d been wrong to worry. Mr. Townsbridge was a beastly man – certainly not the sort who’d ever inspire more tender feelings within her.
A pity, since it meant his looks had been wasted.
Eloise grabbed her shopping list. “I think it’s time for us to bid each other good night.”
“If that is your wish,” he said, turning away as if he’d lost interest in her. “I’ll just fix myself a quick snack before I head back upstairs.”
“The devil you will,” Eloise exploded.
She froze as the words she’d spoken settled around her. Mr. Townsbridge swung back and pinned her in place with the most intense gaze she had even been subjected to.
“My,” he murmured, “you are a feisty thing.”
Eloise gulped. Remember your place. “For—” she cleared her throat and tried again “—forgive me. That was intolerably rude.”
A slow smile slid into place on his face. “I probably ought to apologize too. For the teasing. It clearly made you uncomfortable.”
She managed a stiff nod. Spending more time in his company was an incredibly bad idea, but the thought of him or anyone else rummaging through her cupboards was somehow worse.
Which was the only reason why she found herself saying, “Allow me to fix you a plate.”
“Thank you. But I can manage.”
“Not if you wish to leave this kitchen in one piece you can’t.”
He laughed, quite suddenly and with a shocking degree of mirth. Eloise pressed her lips together until her own laughter forced them apart.
“I can vividly imagine you chasing me with a rolling pin or a frying pan,” he choked.
“The carving knife has just been sharpened,” she said.
“Good God. You’re not just a spitfire or a good cook, you’re also a bloodthirsty hellion.” He stepped back in mock terror. “No wonder my parents and sisters were trying to hide you. They must have feared for my life.”
“They certainly have better sense than to try and meddle with my supplies.” Although the truth was, Eloise had come to adore the family. They were kind and generous. She’d even begun considering Lady Athena her friend after they’d started spending their Sunday mornings together. And she appreciated the brief chats she occasionally had with Lady Roxley whenever the viscountess wished to check up on meal plans.
Giving Mr. Townsbridge a wide berth, Eloise pocketed her shopping list and went to the cupboard. “Will a lemon cream puff do?”
“Make it two and we have a deal,” Mr. Townsbridge told her.
Eloise deliberately kept her back toward him as she smiled. “It’s your waistline, monsieur, not mine.”
“The things you say,” he muttered with a hint of wonder. “You’re quite unlike any other servant I’ve ever met.”
Collecting a plate, Eloise retrieved the tin containing the leftover pastries and pulled off the lid. Risking a glance in his direction she told him wryly, “I’m French. Meekness is not in my blood.”
A spark of awareness flared to life in his eyes, prompting her to drop her gaze quickly. She finished preparing his plate and handed it to him. His thumb brushed hers and her heart leapt. This was wrong, this response she was having toward him. Nothing about it made sense when only moments ago she’d been ready to hit him.
Avoiding further eye contact, she busied herself with putting the tin away. “I have an early morning so I must be off now.”
“Won’t you keep me company while I eat?”
Eloise swallowed. “Non.” She closed the cupboard and forced her feet to move toward the door. Reaching it, she paused to say, “It was interesting to meet you, Mr. Townsbridge. I hope you enjoy your snack.”
She turned away.
“I trust your husband is also in my parents’ employ?”
“No. I’m not...” Too late, she realized what she’d revealed. Cooks were always referred to as Mrs., no matter their marital status, and keeping Mr. Townsbridge in the dark about hers would have served as a useful line of defense. If she’d been wise enough to leave him wondering, that was, or even better if she’d lied.
“Duly noted.”
The comment chased her out of the kitchen and into the servants’ stairwell, all the way up to her room on the top floor of the house. She didn’t pause for breath until she was safely inside with the door shut. Good heavens. The way he’d said that, with seductive promise, was enough to set her ablaze.
She patted her cheeks and expelled a deep breath.
No.
She absolutely could not allow herself to be alone with that man ever again. Not only because of the threat he posed to her job but because of what she feared he might want. And judging by how quickly he’d replaced her indignation with amusement, she worried he had the skill to acquire whatever he might desire.
Which meant she would have to avoid him at all cost.
ACCUSTOMED TO RISING early for work, William woke before six the following morning. Stretching his arms up over his head, he thought back on the previous day’s events and smiled. Mrs. Lamont had been a delightful surprise. She’d obviously wanted to smack him for some of the things he’d said and how he’d behaved, and frankly he could not blame her. But that hadn’t made her ire any less thrilling.
William sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Her playful side had been alluring. The sense of humor she’d revealed, a combination of sarcastic wit and self-deprecating quips, like a cool refreshment on a hot summer’s day. With a few clever retorts, she’d made him laugh more openly than he could remember doing since he was a child. She’d been fun, her company allowing him to escape for the briefest of moments the staid restraint he invariably felt subjected to on account of his position.
And then, of course, there was her appearance. When he’d first laid eyes upon her, he’d quite forgotten himself. Petite, with dark curls scrunched up into a knot at the back of her head, piercing blue eyes and rose colored lips, she was quite possibly the most stunning woman he’d ever seen.
And you can’t have her.
No. Of course he couldn’t. Not that his interests in her lay in that direction anyway. She was the cook, for heaven’s sake. He was just pleased with her culinary skills and the fact that he had the chance to enjoy them. Beyond that, there was nothing at all.
Of course, if she’d been a lady he might have considered the possibility of courtship at some point in the distant future. But she wasn’t. She was an employee. Nothing more. End of story.
He stood, considered ringing for the footman who always served as his valet when he was in Town, and dismissed the notion on account of the hour. He was a grown man, for heaven’s sake. He knew how to dress himself. And Mrs. Lamont was of no interest to him at all. Her unmarried state was inconsequential. She was completely uninteresting to him.
Yes. And the sky is also green, you idiot.
William shook his head and dressed. He would simply have to avoid her from now on. Shouldn’t be hard as long as he kept himself out of the kitchen. Right. Excellent plan.
He left his room and went downstairs. Breakfast wouldn’t be served until nine, which gave him more than two hours to kill. And since the newspaper hadn’t arrived yet either, judging from the empty spot next to his father’s place setting at the table, few options remained.
With this in mind, William strode toward the front door. He’d go for a walk, get some fresh air. Hyde Park was a good half hour away on foot. By the time he got there, took a turn of his favorite path, and made his way back, breakfast would almost be ready. It was a perfect plan.
Happy with his decision, he grabbed his hat and gloves from a cabinet in the foyer and put them on. He then exited the house and was just descending the front steps when he spied Mrs. Lamont coming up the servants’ stairs at the very same time. And just like that, whatever thoughts he’d had of avoiding her flew away like a migrating bird.
“Good morning,” he said, pausing to wait while she opened the gate in the wrought iron fence that bordered the servants’ entrance.
She glanced up. Hesitation and wariness filled her eyes. A tight smile finally caught the edge of her mouth. “Bonjour.”
“I trust you slept well,” he said, falling into step beside her once she’d closed the gate and commenced walking.
“Indeed.” Her eyes were trained upon the horizon. Whatever hints of amusement she’d allowed herself to reveal last night were locked away now, that much was clear.
The sudden urge to poke her until she either exploded with laughter or fury was far too tempting. William cleared his throat. “Excellent weather, wouldn’t you say?”
It was gray and slightly foggy.
Mrs. Lamont’s lips twitched. “Quite.”
“Perfect for a picnic. Or perhaps a garden party of the more dreary variety.”
They turned a corner and Mrs. Lamont stopped. Had she not been carrying a basket with her, she would probably have placed both hands on her hips. Instead, she jutted her chin up and stared him straight in the eye. “Is there no one else in London for you to pester?”
“Not at this hour.”
“Well, then...” Her brow puckered. William decided he liked her like this – a little irritated and slightly off balance. “Surely you must have an errand to see to since you decided to venture out so early.”
“I merely desired a walk.” He took her by the arm and resumed his progress, forcing her to come along with him. “Now that you’re here I even have company. Allow me to carry your basket.”
She locked her fingers more firmly around the handle and moved it out of his reach. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”
He smiled at her. “Have you always been so stubborn and unwilling to accept help?”
“My parents taught me the value of self-reliance.”
“Self-reliance is one thing. Trampling on a gentleman’s honor is quite another.” He kept his tone light because he knew he was being unreasonable. But for some peculiar reason, he really wanted her to accept him, to lean on him a little, and to regard him as a friend instead of an adversary.
Her mouth twisted. She glanced up at him. A sigh followed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
William’s chest expanded. Victory! Forcing back the boyish grin that threatened to stretch across his entire face, he took the basket from her and tucked her hand more securely in the crook of his arm. There. Much better.
“Where are we off to, by the way?”
“To the vegetable market.”
“Is that all?”
“For now.”
She walked stiffly by his side, her discomfort with the close proximity undeniably obvious. He knew he was being too forward, but keeping his distance from her felt wrong. There was a curious rightness to having her close.
William had never visited a market of any kind before. He’d had no need to, so the early morning hustle and bustle intrigued him. Keeping a firm hold of Mrs. Lamont, he allowed her to lead him between the stalls. Occasionally, she’d stop to consider a product. She might even pick it up and turn it over a number of times before putting it back.
William watched with baffled amusement. “What was wrong with those onions?”
“Too squishy,” she informed him.
“And the asparagus?”
“Wrong shade of green.”
“I never realized shopping for food was such a challenge.”
“Having the right produce can make the difference between an edible meal and one that will leave your belly aching.” She drew him toward yet another stall. “Now these asparagus look fresh. See the tips, how solid they are? And they’re lighter in color as well.”
William picked one up while Mrs. Lamont began bargaining with the vendor. “What will you use them for?”
Her eyes sparkled when she glanced up at him. “You’ll see.”
William could scarcely wait. He’d never been very fond of asparagus, but with Mrs. Lamont’s culinary skill taken into account, he had a feeling that was about to change. And he simply loved how enthusiastic she was about everything she selected.
“Here, smell this,” she said, shoving a mushroom toward him.
His instinct was to recoil from the filthy looking thing she held between two fingers. Instead, he leaned in and took a hesitant sniff.
An earthy scent filled his nostrils. It wasn’t unpleasant but oddly clean and invigorating. He frowned. How on earth was that possible? Puzzled, he glanced at Mrs. Lamont. She chuckled with unabashed delight. “Odd, isn’t it,” she mused, “how even a soil-covered mushroom can be inviting? I believe these were picked last night.”
“Indeed they were,” the vendor informed her.
She smiled, showering the mushroom with the sort of adoration William wished she’d direct at him.
Wait.
What?
He was just accompanying her here because he was bored. That was all this was. Nothing more. And yet he knew he was enjoying himself far too much for it to be quite so simple. The joy she took from something as ordinary as vegetable shopping was remarkable. More so the fact that she’d managed to make him find pleasure in it as well. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it occurred to William that he’d not enjoyed himself this much in years. If ever.
“This was an excellent outing,” Mrs. Lamont declared once they were walking back to Townsbridge House. She’d purchased some onions as well, along with some plump tomatoes, lettuce, and strawberries. “I feel quite inspired.”
“And you haven’t yelled at me once.”
There was a pause. “It must have something to do with the weather.”
“It’s starting to rain,” William pointed out.
“So it is,” she said. Glancing up, she caught his eye. Her lips curved slightly upward until a dimple formed at the corner. “In that case, I suppose I must be starting to like you, Mr. Townsbridge. Who would have thought?”
William’s chest tightened in response to her words. For as long as he could remember, the only women who’d shown an ounce of interest in him had been dazzled by the idea of attaching themselves to the son of a viscount. Not one had made him laugh or told him he was likeable. Mrs. Lamont was different – down to earth and genuine in a way that was hard to find amid the aristocracy. And by God, he liked her as well. More than he probably ought.
Chapter Two
There was no doubt in Eloise’s mind that she had abandoned all good sense and stepped into dangerous territory. Her flip-flopping belly proved it. As did her fluttering pulse. Most especially because both were linked to thoughts of Mr. Townsbridge. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Not even after they had returned home and parted ways. Every corner of the kitchen and every vegetable she used reminded her of how they’d met and how charming he’d been this morning at market.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to
concentrate on the eggs and bacon she was preparing for breakfast. Her place was in the kitchen. His was above stairs in a world so apart from her own he might as well be living inside a fortified castle without any doors or windows. And why on earth was she even thinking in those terms when she barely knew him?
It was ridiculous.
“Smells like heaven,” said Matt Cleaver, one of the three footmen in the Townsbridge employ.
His smooth voice startled Eloise out of her pointless daydream about an unattainable suitor.
“I’ve made a little extra so you and the rest of the staff can have some too,” Eloise said.
“That’s why I love you,” Matt said with a smile. His brown eyes sparkled with pleasure. “As long as you’re cooking there’ll always be joy in the world.”
Eloise grinned as heat bloomed in her cheeks. Matt was a wonderful man whose flirtatious nature always brightened her day. The two had formed a close bond during her employment, which was something Eloise valued simply because it made being far from home so much easier.
“I met the youngest Townsbridge son last night,” Eloise said while piling the eggs and bacon onto a serving dish. She went to select a couple of tomatoes which she proceeded to slice while toasting some bread in the leftover fat. “He came to get a late night snack.”
Matt’s eyebrows rose. “Uh oh.”
Eloise chuckled and started arranging the tomato slices next to the eggs and bacon. “He was pleasant enough once he realized I was serious about him not meddling with my kitchen.”
“And?”
“Well... He accompanied me to the vegetable market this morning.”
“Oh dear.” This was spoken as a sigh. Matt gave her a pointed stare. “You have to distance yourself immediately, Ellie. Do not let your heart convince you there’s no harm in being his friend or spending more time together, because, I swear to you, this will be an impossible road for you to walk. It can only lead to disaster.”
Eloise bit her lip. “I know. You’re right. It is just—”
“He’s a wealthy bachelor who’s destined to marry an equally wealthy lady of high standing. You can never hope to be more than a brief affair, if even that.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “If you allow yourself to form an attachment with him, you risk losing your job along with the good opinion of your employers. Is that what you want?”
Falling for Mr. Townsbridge Page 2
