Her father stared at her. After a moment of eyes locking, she cleared her throat and sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, grabbing at the armrests with icy fingers.
Her father lifted his hand. She turned, realizing Ewan still stood in the room. Good heavens, had he spoken to her father about marrying her? No. She breathed a sigh of relief as Ewan walked out.
But then, confusion resumed when Ewan returned a moment later, followed by Ralph Popham. If he was joining her, why hadn’t he said so? If this was to be a sales meeting, she wasn’t prepared.
“My accounts?” she said. “Perhaps I should find my journal.”
“That won’t be necessary,” her father said. “Ralph, sit down.”
Mr. Popham’s expression was even more hangdog than usual as he sat next to her. She raised her eyebrows at him, hoping he could communicate to her somehow, but he shook his head slightly and turned away.
She bit her lip and looked at her father.
“You’ve worked at Redcake’s for, what, fourteen years now, Alys?”
“Eighteen,” she said sharply. “I’m twenty-six.”
“Quite right,” her father said. “A long time.”
“Yes, it is my second home.”
“To be sure. But we have a better home now, don’t we, girl? We’ve come a long way up in the world. And now, I have a knighthood to match.”
He spoke as if to himself, more reflective than Alys was used to her father being.
“I’m very proud of you, sir.”
“Thank you, daughter. I need to tell you of my disappointment.”
Alys swallowed. She had done nothing wrong, she was certain of this. “Sir?”
“You are a Miss Redcake. That means something now.”
“Of course it does. I’m very proud to be connected to Redcake’s.”
“Not to Redcake’s,” her father said, steepling his fingers. “To me.”
She’d never seen him make that gesture before. It was as if he changed before her very eyes. “You aren’t proud of me, Father?”
“You do not behave as a young lady should.”
She wondered if this was about Ewan after all. Or, she thought in horror, of Ralph Popham. He was widowed, after all, but she was only eight or nine years older than Betsy.
“I am a hard and efficient worker, sir. I am proud of my accomplishments.”
Her father stood and pounded on the desk with one fist. The reverberation made her chair shake. “They are the wrong accomplishments, miss. Your sisters, they are young ladies. You, on the other hand—”
“What?” she whispered.
“I understand you are promoting yourself and your cakes, among the aristocracy, of all things. Do you never think of your sisters, their prospects?”
“I was trying to grow our business! You know our quiet time is coming, and I did get orders from the Manater wedding. A marchioness, no less, came to make a large order. Mr. Popham was there!”
“Exactly,” her father said.
Ralph sank lower into his chair. Alys fancied he wanted to become invisible.
“I did a good thing,” Alys insisted. “Nothing different than before, except that as Redcake’s becomes more prominent, our opportunities are better. I had to refuse Lord Hatbrook his order just last month, because the queen had ordered all the Scotch trifle we had on hand.”
“A Miss Redcake cannot be having these conversations, my dear.
The daughter of a knight should not be a shopgirl.”
“I’m not a shopgirl. I am responsible for the wedding cakes.”
“Not any longer, my girl. You shall return home at once. Your prospects have changed. Your mother shall decide what to do with you.”
“But I’m grown,” Alys said. “I have my own money. I’m capable.”
“You are my daughter,” he said. “I will not have you displaying yourself as little better than a servant. Your mother is Lady Redcake.
You have a substantial dowry.”
Alys wondered what her young, factory-girl self would have said to that, to hear her father firing her and telling her she had a large pot • of money available to her, when she’d cried herself to sleep for months after her father sent her to work, before she decided she liked it better than going to the village school.
“I’m happy here,” Alys said. “I could get lodgings, leave the household so that Matilda and Rose aren’t affected by me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her father snapped. “You no longer have employment. Return home to your mother at once.”
“Would you speak so to Gawain?”
“Gawain will inherit my business one day.”
“But I’m the one who loves it,” Alys said.
Ralph shifted in his seat.
“You don’t understand business. You are a cake decorator,” Sir Bartley said dismissively. “Do not presume you know more than you do.”
“Gawain has no more education than me.”
“And no more than me, either. My fortune makes changes now.
No daughters of the Redcake family will ever need to work again!”
he shouted.
“But what if we want to?”
“You only think that because you’ve never known a better option.”
“I’m happy here.”
“Do not behave so unbecomingly,” he said. “Now, go.”
Alys stood, her back very straight. Without looking at Mr.
Popham, she turned and stepped to the closed door. She left the offices without looking at Ewan.
As she reached the outer door, she heard the secretary say, “Goodbye, Miss Redcake.”
With a hot rush of shame, she realized he’d known what her father had planned to do to her. Furious, humiliated, she stalked downstairs to collect her coat, hat, and reticule.
Ten minutes later she stepped out the back door next to the loading dock. She hadn’t said good-bye to anyone. Surely this wasn’t over yet. After Christmas she’d change her father’s mind. He’d see how unhappy she was embroidering with her sisters. He’d miss her sure hand in the cake department.
As she walked down the street toward home, she realized the timing meant she wouldn’t receive her Christmas bonus on Friday along with everyone else.
“Blast him!” she muttered under her breath. She kept her head down in the hope no one heard her unladylike outburst.
The air was thoroughly foul and she nearly wished her father had waited until the end of the day to ruin her life so she could have taken the carriage home with him. Instead, she had to tramp home under the darkening sky. A fleck of snow dampened her nose from time to time as she walked, while the revoltingly fetid, wet pavement wetted her black skirt. At least she’d never have to wear this particular dress again. It was her cakie uniform, worn for those times when she dashed into the front of Redcake’s on some mission.
Blast Lady Hatbrook! This was all her fault! Alys swung her reticule savagely in the air. It slammed back into her side just below where her corset ended along her hip. If only the marchioness hadn’t made such an unpleasant scene, called for her so loudly.
She knew her father had a good head for business. If he’d made mistakes before today she hadn’t known it. But still, didn’t he realize she’d made the firm an excellent profit?
“Blast him,” she said again, catching a hint of surprise on the sooty face of a lamplighter.
By the time she made it home, she too had soot on her face. It seemed the very sky had pressed down upon her, bringing foul odors and making a clear vision of the streets all but impossible.
Pounds opened the door for her. She entered quickly and handed him her coat and hat as soon as she could wrestle the damp garments from her body.
“I’d like a bath, please.”
“I will tell Lucy.” Pounds bowed and left her in the foyer.
Alys stared down at the marble floor for a moment, then glanced up to find herself staring at a white marble statue set into a rece
ss between two fluttering gas lamps. The statue was of a shepherdess.
“I wish my life were as simple as yours.” She saluted the statue like a simpleton and climbed the steps to her dressing room, hoping tears would refrain from dripping down her face until she reached privacy.
Alys couldn’t wear mourning to the musicale the next afternoon, but she certainly felt the loss of her position as keenly as any death.
Rose had told her she looked pale as a phantom and that she should • pinch her cheeks and possibly apply the lightest touch of rouge to her lips.
Alys hadn’t replied to the unladylike suggestion. Her father hadn’t come home for dinner and he’d left for Redcake’s early. She’d have faulted him for avoiding her, but knew how busy the emporium was just before Christmas. Her place was there too!
She wiped snow from her nose in the Lennoxes’ foyer and tried not to stare at Matilda’s enlarged bosom when her sister removed her heavy mantle. Dear God, was this to be her main concern now? Not orders and customers but her silly sister’s clothing mishaps?
When they were all tidied, they followed Lady Redcake through the house to the music room. The large, carpeted space held a low dais for performers. Alys saw a piano and a harp and wondered if the sisters played as badly as they were reputed to sing.
Rose caught Alys’s sleeve. “He’s here!” she whispered.
“Who?”
Rose lifted her chin. “That marquess! Lady Lillian was right, the most handsome men do come here.”
Alys followed the line of her sister’s chin and saw Lord Hatbrook, in profile, deep in conversation with another young man who looked vaguely familiar. Then, the second man’s lips curled at one corner in a mischievous, dimpled grin and she recognized him as the customer who had tormented her the day she’d met Hatbrook.
The marquess folded his arms across his chest and tapped his booted foot against the floor, even though there was no music as of yet. He seemed twitchy to her. Perhaps he was as uncomfortable in society as she, though that seemed unlikely. She glanced around the surrounding faces to see if she could spot his mother, but didn’t see her.
“Oh, Miss Redcake,” Lady Lillian said, coming toward them with outstretched hands. “Is this not the dampest Christmas you can remember?”
“Foul beyond belief,” Alys agreed.
“But it’s Christmas,” Rose said, taking her friend’s hands. “And it’s so pretty inside.”
A Tannenbaum stood majestically in one corner, decorated with tinsel, gingerbread cookies, and lit candles. A wreath was hung at each window. Though it was very faint, Alys could hear carolers outside. Ivy and holly were entwined below the gas lamps.
“Mistletoe!” Matilda gasped, coming up beside them.
Alys squinted, and finally saw a small bunch almost hidden beside the Christmas tree.
“Can you imagine the scandal?” Matilda said, almost wistfully.
“Don’t squint. It makes you look like an old maid,” Rose whispered balefully.
Just then, Lord Hatbrook’s friend turned and stared straight at Alys. He looked confused for a moment as if he couldn’t place her, but he was staring so directly that she bobbed the tiniest curtsy. He bowed his head then returned to his conversation, but a moment later Hatbrook turned. His gaze caught hers and she felt a flutter in her chest. Rose caught at her arm and opened her mouth, but then Alys saw Lady Hatbrook appear in the open doorway between the tree and her son.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw Alys. Alys turned toward Rose and drew her sister a few steps away.
“What is it? Your mouth was hanging quite open. You must be more discreet.”
“I just saw Lady Hatbrook,” Alys confessed, feeling a lump in her stomach that even a strong cup of tea might not dissolve. “Oh Rose, I have played the servant with that family, and now Father has taken away my position. But it might be too late to save you or Matilda!”
“What are you babbling about?” Lewis said, coming toward them.
Alys noticed her cousin’s white-blond hair was damp, hiding its natural curl.
“Did you forget your hat again, cousin?” Rose asked.
Lewis ignored her. “What is too late, Alys?”
Alys tried to smile. “How can my sisters make good marriages when I’ve been serving the aristocracy at Redcake’s? We reek of trade.”
“Uncle Bartley is a tradesman,” Lewis said. “We aren’t aristocrats and it is silly to think our status has really changed.”
Rose opened her mouth, her nose wrinkled in outrage, but Alys appreciated the good sense. What did she care if Lady Hatbrook recognized her? Lady Lillian might belong in this room, but she and her family did not. They were the interlopers and Lady Hatbrook could do what she liked.
Then she glanced up and saw Lord Hatbrook only two steps away • from her. His mother was nowhere in sight, but his friend stood at her elbow.
Hatbrook turned slightly to her left and spoke. “Sergeant Redcake, I am happy to see you again.”
Her brother must have come in with Lewis as he stood there now.
He shook the marquess’s hand.
“A pleasure, sir. May I introduce my sisters, Alys, Matilda, and Rose, and my cousin, Mr. Lewis Noble?”
“I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Redcake a time or two,”
the marquess said. “May I make my friend Theodore Bliven known to you all?”
After introductions were made, the marquess said, “The sergeant here served with Judah until recently.”
“You must have some tales to tell, Sergeant,” Mr. Bliven said.
“Don’t envy you, man.”
“Better forgotten.” Gawain scowled. “I work at Redcake’s now.”
Mr. Bliven grinned. “Ah, then you are the envy of Lord Hatbrook.
I do believe Redcake’s is his most favorite spot in London.”
Lord Hatbrook caught Alys rolling her eyes and the corners of his eyes tightened as if he held back a smile. She flushed.
“I trust business is excellent for the season?” Hatbrook inquired.
Alys found herself fighting tears. “Excuse me, your lordship.
Something in my eye.” She turned away.
“I’ll take her,” Lewis said, grasping her by the elbow as Alys put a hand to her cheek to stop any tears from dripping. This forestalled her sisters from having to leave the conversation, as they most assuredly did not.
As they walked away, Lewis said, “You’re going to have to be stronger than this, Alys.”
“He took away what I love,” Alys sniffed. “And I’m afraid he did it so someone at the emporium can offer for me. I had the strangest looks from Popham and Hales. I thought they considered me an equal, but now this!”
“You don’t have to marry any of them, you can marry me,” Lewis said.
He stopped walking. Alys bumped him, stunned, her tears forgotten. She looked up and realized Lewis had halted directly underneath the mistletoe. On purpose.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “You don’t want to marry me.”
“How can you know that?” Lewis said, in a low voice.
He bent his head as if to kiss her, and she stepped back quickly.
Cousin or no, no matter how he felt, she wouldn’t let him kiss her at a public event.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“I must not embarrass my sisters,” she said, wishing her excuse hadn’t put that look of hope into his eyes.
Chapter Five
Alys waited with the rest of her siblings in the back parlor to receive her Grandmother Noble and Uncle Jacob. They had decorated their Tannenbaum earlier in the afternoon. Due to the chill of the day and the oppressive sensation of a coming storm, her hands had been clammy and chilled. Lewis had stayed out of the house and no one knew where he was. She worried about him, feeling guilty because her initial reaction to his proposal had been to tell him he was being silly. His expression had told her he had been serious after all.
Alys’s
view of the tree, with its candles, popcorn, and cranberry rings, blurred. She couldn’t clearly see the outlines of the papersnowflake cutouts Matilda had made a few years ago. Lewis had carved the bird ornaments from weeping-willow scraps and she had painted the tiny blue eyes that stared accusingly into hers now.
Where had he gone on Christmas Eve? They had resolved nothing the night before and she had the sick feeling of dread to show for that. What was she going to do? She couldn’t marry him. Not only was he her cousin, but he had no income of his own and hers had been stripped from her. Even Ralph Popham would be a better match from a practical standpoint, ill as the thought made her.
Pounds opened the door and male voices disrupted the quiet. Her stomach clenched, then she recognized the high tenor of Uncle Jacob, her mother’s only living sibling. The scent of roasted chestnuts drifted in along with the odor of wet wool from outer garments. Her uncle, tall and slender with a magnificent snowy beard, and resplendent in a bright green waistcoat, was two years older than her mother and had never married. He lived with his mother in Reading. Twelve years before, when her aunt had died, the Redcakes had accepted her son Lewis, then seventeen, into their household, and her uncle had taken in Grandmother Noble.
“We drove by Redcake’s,” Uncle Jacob said as he walked into the room with her father, followed by her mother and grandmother.
“Most impressive edifice.”
“Thank you, brother,” her father boomed. He always grew louder around Uncle Jacob, as if his more gentle tones brought out the bombast.
“Oh, dear, I do hate to travel,” Grandmother Noble said, sinking down into a wingback chair near the fireplace. It was their father’s favorite chair, but Grandmother Noble was one of the few people who Sir Bartley allowed to do as she pleased, despite his newly elevated place in the world.
“We’re so happy you made the effort, Mother,” Ellen Redcake said gently.
“Would you like a fur wrap to cover those old bones, madam?”
Sir Bartley boomed. “Or a dish of tea. Or whisky, perhaps?”
Since Grandmother Noble didn’t treat him with respect, Sir Bartley made an effort to expose her little foibles, like drinking more than was polite.
The Marquess of Cake Page 6
