****
Lord and Lady Longley and Lady Julia finally left Durham around midday, the earl grousing at the lateness of the hour, his wife softly cajoling. Although Theodora would miss the countess, she was glad Mr. Derrick and Miss Dove were gone. She was tired of encountering them sneaking about. Miss Dove’s constant throwing her bosom at Lord Caxton was particularly annoying, although Theodora refused to admit to herself why she felt that way. Despite her best efforts, she was growing to care for the man, and she had to continually remind herself what she had left in London.
Dinner that evening was just for the viscount, and he had a sent a note down with one of the footmen—Theodora wondered if she would ever learn to tell them apart—with his preferred meal. She almost laughed when she saw the menu. It requested the simplest of dishes—roast chicken, potatoes, and custard.
Given the simplicity of the meal, she gave Bess and Millie the evening off. There was a dance in the village, and they had both been whispering about how they were sorry they would miss it whenever they thought she couldn’t hear them. They were ecstatic when she told them and equally happy when Mr. Fairfax allowed the footmen to escort them. They rushed off to prepare themselves, giggling like the young girls they were, and Theodora could not help but smile.
She prepared the chicken first, as it would take the most time. Mr. Doyle had brought her two freshly killed birds earlier that morning, which she had planned to serve to the staff. As the maids and the footmen were going out, however, there would be plenty for both the remaining staff and the viscount.
She was grateful Mr. Doyle had already removed the birds’ heads and most of the feathers, as she had always hated doing that. She hadn’t had to do it in London, but growing up in the country, she had assisted in more than one beheading, and it made her shudder to think of it. She tweezed out the remaining pinfeathers, then rinsed the birds and patted them dry with a cloth. She chopped some fresh rosemary and garlic—a most underused herb, in her opinion—then mixed them with butter Bess had churned the previous night. She pushed the mixture under and over the skin of the chickens, then set them aside.
Millie had cut up the vegetables before she left, so after Theodora melted more butter and stirred in salt and a handful of fresh herbs, she poured it over the potatoes. She arranged everything in a pair of roasting pans and placed them in the kitchener.
She washed her hands, rubbing them with a mixture of salt and lemon juice to get rid of the garlic smell. Next she decided on an old-fashioned boiled custard. Although his lordship had not specified, she had a feeling it was what he would prefer. She pushed aside the uncomfortable notion she was trying to please him and busied herself with warming milk and lemon peel. While she waited for the milk to become infused with lemon flavor, she separated the eggs she would need. She put the whites in the ice chest for the next day and set the yolks aside while she removed the lemon peel and added sugar to the milk. Adding more milk to the yolks, she then combined the two mixtures together and set them in a pan of boiling water to thicken. She wished she could take a moment to sit, but the custard required constant stirring or it would become a lumpy mess.
Once the custard was thick, she removed it from its water bath and stirred in a glass of brandy. She stuck her nose over the bowl and inhaled deeply, the scent of milk, lemon, and spirits taking her back to a childhood memory. Her father’s favorite pudding had been custard, and their cook had made it often.
Her bittersweet reverie was broken by the twins and the maids, who came bursting into the kitchen, all smiles and excited chatter. Stifling their half-hearted protests that they should be assisting her with his lordship’s dinner, she shooed them out and on their way, then finished the preparation of the meal. After putting the kettle on for tea, she allowed herself a few minutes to relax before Mr. Fairfax came down to prepare to serve Lord Caxton.
****
Theodora was finishing her own dinner with Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Fairfax when Lord Caxton came into the kitchen. They all jumped to their feet, but he gestured for them to sit and took the chair opposite Theodora. Mr. Fairfax and Mrs. Appleton looked so perplexed it would have been funny if Theodora weren’t suddenly so nervous.
Lord Caxton smiled graciously. “Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Milsom. That is my favorite meal. When I was a boy, my mother had Cook make it for me whenever I was feeling sad, and it never failed to cheer me. It still works. Whenever I have that meal, I remember her, and the way the kitchen used to smell, and it makes me happy.” He paused, and his face took on a dreamy expression.
“Smells and tastes can certainly evoke memories, my lord. Whenever I eat cockles, I remember a particular day I spent with my mother when I was a girl. We spent the day on the beach, just we two, without my father or my br...” Theodora stopped before the memories carried her away.
Lord Caxton looked curiously at her, as if he were going to say something more, but then he blinked, and changed the subject. “Memories are funny things, are they not? I think you may have created new ones for me, though, Mrs. Milsom. Cook never used herbs to such flavorful effect. She was rather a traditionalist.”
Fairfax gave a snort and exchanged an amused look with Mrs. Appleton.
Theodora smiled, absurdly pleased at the compliment. “I am glad you enjoyed it, my lord.” She dipped her spoon into her custard and took one last bite. Lord Caxton just smiled and said nothing.
“May I assist you with something, my lord?” Mr. Fairfax asked, his eyebrows crinkling.
“Yes, I believe you may, Fairfax. I am not used to being alone of an evening, and I am not inclined to venture out to the pub, so I thought I would come downstairs. Would anyone like to play cards?” He pulled a deck of playing cards out of his pocket and started to shuffle them.
“Cards?” Mrs. Appleton blinked confusedly.
“Yes, cards, Mrs. Appleton. Do you play?” He beamed a radiant smile at Mrs. Appleton, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Theodora swore the woman almost simpered. Mr. Fairfax frowned at the housekeeper, quite out of proportion to her behavior. Well, thought Theodora, this is interesting. She stored away this new knowledge for future reference and enjoyed watching Lord Caxton flirt with Mrs. Appleton while Mr. Fairfax silently fumed.
After a few moments, she was afraid the poor man would expire with jealousy, so she broke in. “Well, my lord, we are waiting. What would you like to play?”
“I am quite partial to Casino. Do you know it, Mrs. Milsom?”
“Yes, of course. I used to play with my br... sister.” She swallowed hard and stared at him defiantly.
“Indeed. The mysterious Theodora.” He arched his perfect blond brows and smiled. “Was Theodora good at cards, Mrs. Milsom?”
“You would be surprised, my lord,” she said dryly.
“Perhaps. Not much surprises me.” He gestured to the elder staff. “Are you in, Mrs. Appleton? Fairfax?”
Fairfax raised a questioning brow at Mrs. Appleton, and at her nod he agreed to play. “I shall partner with Mrs. Appleton, my lord, if that is agreeable to you?”
Lord Caxton nodded. “Then I shall partner Mrs. Milsom. I look forward to seeing how much she learned from the mysterious Theodora.”
Theodora grimaced. “I do wish you’d stop calling her that, my lord. There is...I mean was...nothing mysterious about her.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He regarded her with those piercing eyes.
Theodora ignored him and cleared the dinner dishes from the table while Lord Caxton dealt four cards to each of them. He placed the remaining cards face down in the middle of the table. For an hour, the game proceeded quietly, with only an occasional comment about the cards. Every time Theodora looked up she caught Lord Caxton peering at her curiously over his cards. She tried not to squirm.
Finally, Mrs. Appleton shouted, “Twenty-one!” She and Mr. Fairfax gave each other such beaming smiles that Theodora had to laugh. Lord Caxton’s eyes twinkled merrily, and although she didn’t know how he did it, she was s
ure he had lost to them on purpose.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “This was most enjoyable, Fairfax, even if you did win.” He took Mrs. Appleton’s hand and bowed low over it, bestowing a kiss with a flourish. “Mrs. Appleton, thank you for a delightful evening.”
He turned then to Theodora. She stood and brushed imaginary crumbs off her apron to avoid looking at him.
“Mrs. Milsom,” he said gently.
“Yes, my lord?” she said to her toes.
“Will you walk into the garden with me? I would like to show you my secret patch of rosemary.”
“Rosemary?”
“Yes. I adore rosemary, and Mr. Doyle taught me to grow it. I was very pleased to see that you used it in tonight’s meal.”
Theodora looked at Mrs. Appleton. “Why did no one tell me this? I would have been happy to cook with rosemary more often, had I known his lordship’s desire for it.”
Mrs. Appleton shrugged and exchanged a look with Mr. Fairfax. Theodora had the distinct impression this was the first Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Fairfax were hearing of this, too.
Theodora sighed. “Very well, my lord. But only for a moment. I have to tidy up.”
Mrs. Appleton patted her shoulder approvingly. “You go on, dear. Mr. Fairfax and I will take care of the washing up. Why don’t you take the rest of the evening for yourself?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that!” Theodora wasn’t sure if she was more surprised to have someone clean up after her, or more terrified of a walk in the moonlight with Lord Caxton.
“Yes, you could. What a splendid idea, Mrs. Appleton. I think Mrs. Milsom could use some fresh air. Don’t you?” Lord Caxton did not wait for a reply but put a firm hand in the small of Theodora’s back and steered her out of the kitchen.
****
At the end of the hall, he opened the door, and they stepped out into the warm summer night.
“It’s a lovely night for a stroll, Mrs. Milsom. Shall we?” He draped her arm over his own, and they walked in companionable silence down a little path until they entered the garden. She had only been in the garden during daylight, when she needed to consult Mr. Doyle and did not want to wait for him to come to her. She had not had an opportunity to explore it, but what she had seen was beautiful.
The smell of lavender wafted up from the path as they walked. She took a deep breath and felt a calm descend over her she had not experienced in years. Beside her, Lord Caxton pressed her hand with his.
“You seem more relaxed already, Mrs. Milsom. I thought you would hop away when I suggested a walk, like the rabbit Julia installed in your kitchen.”
Theodora stiffened slightly. “Do you really have a secret patch of rosemary, my lord, or was this just a ruse?”
“Jonathan, please.” He assumed a pained expression, his hand to his heart. “And you wound me, Mrs. Milsom, truly you do.” Then he pointed at an enormous bush that grew along a stone wall. “It’s right over here.”
Theodora’s eyes widened. “I’d hardly call that a secret patch, my lord, especially as I snipped some leaves from it this morning. However did you get it so large? It’s not winter hardy this far north.”
“No, it’s not. It would die with the first frost. Mr. Doyle and I dig it up and bring it into the conservatory every autumn.”
“I see. You must have quite a green thumb.”
“Perhaps.” He walked over and fingered the fragrant leaves. He broke off a stalk and returned to her, holding it under her nose.
She inhaled deeply, and smiled. “It’s wonderful. I will use it more often in my cooking, if that would please you.”
“Anything you’d like to do with an eye toward pleasing me would please me.” He gently stroked the herb along her jaw line.
She cleared her throat and attempted to change the subject. “Do you grow other plants as well?”
“All of these herbs are mine, actually. Mr. Doyle lets me indulge my interests.”
Theodora stopped and stared at him. “You are a mystery, my lord. I don’t think I ever met an aristocrat who was interested in culinary herbs.”
“Do you know many aristocrats, then?” She looked down, forcing herself to contemplate a robust patch of oregano. After a moment, during which she valiantly fought the urge to look up, he said, “I take after my mother, I suppose.”
She raised her head in curiosity. “Your mother?”
He laughed. “Oh, surely you don’t think we are all ignorant of her habit of sneaking down to the kitchen to make pastries in the middle of the night?”
Theodora chuckled. “She certainly seems to think she’s kept it a secret.”
He gave her another meaningful look. “There are no secrets in a country house, Matilda.”
She stilled for a moment, even as her heart started to race. She resumed walking. “There are always secrets, my lord. In any house.”
The viscount said nothing, just fell into step beside her, and soon they came to a wrought-iron courting bench under an aspen tree, next to a jasmine bush. He gestured for her to sit and then moved around to the other side. They sat facing each other, their bodies only inches apart, not touching. Her mother had had a bench similar to this in her sitting room, but it had never seemed quite so intimate when she sat with her mother. The moonlight, the almost overpowering smell of the night-blooming jasmine, and the powerful man next to her was making her giddy.
“This is one of my favorite spots,” he said, his voice thick, his lips only an inch from her ear.
“I suppose you have brought many girls out here?” she asked with badly attempted nonchalance.
He drew back and looked away. “Only one, before you.”
He looked sad, and Theodora felt guilty. “I am sorry to have reminded you. It seems an unpleasant memory.”
“That memory is pleasant. It is the ones that came afterward which are not.”
Theodora tried to stop herself from prying, which should have been easy, given she was not particularly nosy by nature. Nevertheless, this man stirred something in her she could not suppress, and she was unable to stop herself from blurting, “Did she die?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “No. She’s very much alive. She left me, the night before we were to wed.”
Theodora gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “How horrible!” Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “What happened?” Then, remembering her manners, she shook her head. “No, you don’t have to tell me. It is none of my business, I’m sure.”
He was quiet for a moment, gazing at her, but almost as if he didn’t see her. She was beginning to wonder if something was wrong when he nodded. “No, I would like to tell you. My parents don’t talk about it. They think it upsets me.”
“Does it?”
“No, not really. Her name was Caroline. She was the daughter of an earl. Beautiful, well-bred, wealthy. Everything a future earl could want in a wife. My mother and hers went through their first Season together and became fast friends. Their family seat is in Yorkshire, so the families visited often. Everyone assumed Caro and I would wed, and we had no particular objection. So two years ago I courted her, and she agreed to marry me. We used to meet on this bench sometimes, when she and her parents came to stay. She was, naturally, too proper to do anything more than exchange a kiss or two. Or so I thought.”
He frowned, quiet again, obviously remembering. “We were to be wed at Durham Cathedral, as neither of us was interested in a Town ceremony. The night before our wedding, after a party here, she said she was going to retire early. I stayed up late with friends, as bachelors are wont to do.” He winked, and she smiled shyly.
“When I finally made my way to my own bedchamber, I found she had left a note on my pillow. I was too foxed to read it before I feel asleep, so I didn’t know what it said until the next morning, when it was too late.”
“What did it say?” Theodora blurted.
Jonathan placed her hand in his and stroked it absently from her wrist, across her palm, to her fingertips. She
felt a tingling at the base of her spine and wiggled a bit to make it stop. But it only grew stronger with his touch.
“It said that she was terribly sorry, but she couldn’t go through with it. She had great affection for me, but she had fallen in love with one of her father’s grooms. They were leaving for Gretna Green, and after they married they would go to his father’s sheep farm in Scotland.”
Theodora’s mouth dropped open. “A sheep farmer?”
Lord Caxton laughed. “Yes. Improbable, I agree. It caused the scandal of the summer and was remarkably embarrassing for my mother, who has yet to forgive her friend, for reasons which escape me.”
“That seems rather out of character for Lady Longley, if you’ll pardon my saying so. She strikes me as a most forgiving sort of person.”
“Yes, she is, generally,” Jonathan agreed, “but an intentional injury to her children cannot be tolerated. She’s rather protective of Julia and me.”
Theodora swallowed and pulled her hand out of his grasp. After hearing that story she suspected Lady Longley wouldn’t be particularly pleased to see her son mucking about with the help. Jonathan seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he didn’t make a move to take it back.
Struggling to think of something to say, Theodora blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “Did you love her?” She immediately regretted the question and was inexplicably afraid to know the answer.
Jonathan smiled sadly and then looked away. “I thought I did. But I am a bit ashamed to admit I was not terribly disappointed when she ran off. I felt bad for my mother, and it was hard to take the ribbing of my friends—it is a blow to the ego to lose one’s fiancée to a sheep farmer. I secluded myself here to nurse my wounded pride, and I seldom go to London now. Although that’s not,” he hastened to add, “for any particular need to hide my face any longer. I simply prefer country life.”
Theodora now understood the countess’ cryptic comment from the other morning, but she could not think of anything to say. Lord Caxton took her hand again, which had rested between them on the bench, and raised it to his lips.
Stirring Up the Viscount Page 10
