‘And I suspect a few of the losers will be drowning their sorrows in Myrtle Williams’s elderberry wine,’ she said.
‘I noticed you were more than happy to try a few samples of that yourself,’ he added, causing her to laugh.
‘Yes, about the judging,’ Iris’s mother cut in. ‘There was some disagreement over the impartiality of the fruit pie judge, and it resulted in a bit of unpleasantness between the competitors.’
Theo joined Iris’s laughter. That didn’t surprise him in the least. While the cooks had been polite to each other in his company, their compliments had all had a slight competitive edge to them, and he suspected once he and Lady Iris had left their tent the disagreements had got as heated as that of the gardeners.
‘It has been decided that Iris would judge the appearance of the scones,’ Lady Springfeld said, causing Theo to smile at her unfortunate predicament. ‘And you will judge the taste and texture. So make haste—they’re expecting you at the baking tent.’
The mother rushed off, leaving a stunned Theo reeling in her wake and wondering whether that woman would ever stop tormenting him.
* * *
‘I’m sure it won’t be too bad,’ Iris said, suspecting it probably would be. ‘Although perhaps we should have asked Mother what happened to the last judge.’
‘Tarred and feathered probably,’ he said, looking as worried as she felt. ‘Or perhaps buttered and floured would be more appropriate.’
She smiled, pleased that at least he could joke about it. ‘Well, there’s nothing for it,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Once more into the breach and all that.’
They walked towards the baking tent, with as much trepidation as if they were about to face a firing squad.
‘I think we had better try to smile,’ Iris said. ‘Otherwise they might be able to sense our fear.’
He smiled down at her. ‘How does this look?’
‘Perfect.’ And it was. He had such a wonderfully perfect smile, she just wished he would show it more often.
They entered the tent and once again all conversation stopped.
‘I believe you’d like His Lordship and me to judge the scones,’ Iris said, trying to keep her voice calm.
‘Yes, my lord, my lady,’ Theo’s cook said. ‘That last judge, he didn’t know a thing about gooseberry pies. Wouldn’t be able to tell a good flaky pastry if it bit him on the...anyway, we’re sure you’ll do a much fairer job.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ he said, his voice sounding more confident than she was sure he was feeling. ‘Now, lead me to all your tasty scones.’
Iris looked along the line of jam, date and sultana scones. They all looked equally wonderful to her: golden-brown, plump and either perfectly round or precisely square.
Theo broke open the first one, took a bite and chewed, his brow furrowed in thought.
‘Light, good texture and an excellent balance of flavours,’ he declared, causing the women to smile in approval and the cook responsible to puff herself up, just like her well-risen scones.
He moved down the line, his face maintaining that look of intense concentration, and each comment he made not only flattered the cook, but also surprised Iris in his ability to think of something new and apt to say.
When he came to the last scone, Iris could see he was about to be presented with a challenge. These scones were not golden, nor were they perfectly round or square, and did not even look like scones, but more like some sort of misshapen rocks containing bits of burnt fruit.
The scullery maid from Theo’s house was smiling fit to burst, proud of what presumably was her effort.
With some force Theo broke the scone open, tried to take a bite, then managed to rip some off with his teeth. Iris watched in amazement as his expression did not change. He kept that thoughtful look on his face throughout the chewing. It took some time to consume the morsel, then eventually she watched a lump travel slowly down his throat.
‘Unique flavour, interesting use of the ingredients and an enterprising interpretation of a traditional recipe,’ he said, amazing Iris with his tact. The scullery maid smiled with pride while the other cooks either raised their eyebrows or bit their smiling lips.
‘Perhaps I could have a cup of tea,’ Theo asked, obviously still trying to swallow the last offering. Once he had finished his drink the cooks all leaned forward, their eyes fixed on Theo in anticipation.
‘You haven’t made it easy for me, have you, ladies?’ he said, to much murmuring and shuffling from the assembled cooks. ‘Allow me to consult with Lady Iris for a moment and I’ll give you my verdict.’
Iris led him to the corner of the tent and they huddled together.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she confessed quietly. ‘They all look excellent to me—well, apart from that one exception. What are we going to do? We have to choose one.’ Iris looked over her shoulder at the faces of the cooks, staring at her with narrowed eyes and set mouths. ‘Perhaps we could say there’s a six-way tie.’
Theo laughed. ‘Whatever fate awaits us, we’ll just have to face it together,’ he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘But at least no one can accuse me of bias. This truly has been a blind tasting and I have no idea who made which scone.’
She squeezed his hand back. ‘Good luck,’ she murmured. ‘And if they turn nasty, I recommend we try and make a run for it.’
She was pleased to see he smiled at her little joke.
‘Right, let’s do this,’ he said and they returned to the waiting competitors.
‘After a thorough discussion on the merits of each scone with my fellow judge, and taking into account the colour, taste, lightness, and texture of each scone, we have to declare the date scone as the winner.’
The cook from Walberton Estate clapped her hands together and smiled at the other cooks in satisfaction.
‘Well, my scones used to be the best in the county,’ Theo’s cook said as the other women gave their guarded congratulations to the winner. ‘But I’m a bit out of practice, what with not having guests any more.’ She sent Theo a withering look, then smiled at Iris. ‘But perhaps that’s going to change soon and by next year’s fête I’ll have once again perfected my recipe.’ She looked at the winner. ‘Then we’ll see who’s got the best scones in the county.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ the winner said. ‘Mine had the best texture, lightness, taste and colour. The Earl said so.’
Theo and Iris quietly backed out of the tent as the argument continued and voices grew louder. Once they were outside, they both broke into laughter.
‘I don’t think we should linger,’ Theo said, taking her hand. ‘It won’t be long before rolling pins start being thrown and we don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.’
He led her away from the tent and complete pleasure consumed Iris. Spending the day with Theo was such fun. He was such fun and she hoped he was enjoying himself as much as she was.
They walked arm in arm through the crowds, with everyone saying hello, smiling and giving Iris knowing looks. The Earl’s cook apparently was not the only one who believed Iris would be a part of Theo’s future. And she had never seen him look more content. It made her think that maybe, just maybe, the cook was correct, and she was about to get plenty of practice making prize-winning scones.
The sound of the bustling crowd was suddenly drowned out by the jingling of bells, and like the rest of the revellers they turned and headed over towards the music.
‘That will be the Morris dancers,’ Theo said. ‘Another activity that one of my servants has got caught up in, but hopefully Morris dancing won’t be quite as combative as scone-baking.’
They arrived at the courtyard where the dancers were flinging themselves in the air and waving white handkerchiefs. And, right in the middle, there was the usually ever-so-professional Charles, a wreath of flowers on his hat and a big
smile on his face.
‘This is wonderful, just wonderful,’ Iris said. ‘I would never have thought Charles would have such a playful nature.’
‘Neither did I until today,’ the Earl replied, slowly shaking his head. ‘Now I’m beginning to wonder about the secret lives of all my other servants.’
Iris laughed and clapped along to the accordion, being played by a rather jolly man with a shiny red face. ‘Come on, join in,’ she said, nudging Theo lightly in the ribs.
He looked sideways at her, his eyebrow raised, but began clapping along to the merry tune, and soon he was smiling as widely as Iris. When the dancers finished, they both clapped enthusiastically and cheered their appreciation along with the rest of the crowd.
The Morris dancers jingled their way off to the nearest tent, where ale was being served, and the gusto with which they accepted their tankards did rather suggest that the ale and the camaraderie were as much an attraction as the dancing.
Iris took Theo’s arm again and led him back through the crowd. ‘Shall we see what the rest of your servants are up to? If Charles is a Morris dancer, heaven only knows what the rest of them are capable of.’
‘Good idea,’ he said, still smiling. ‘I’ve always thought the housekeeper was a bit of a witch. Maybe we’ll find her reading tarot cards somewhere. One of my footmen has a habit of dropping plates. Perhaps he’s been using the china to practise his juggling routine.’
She looked up at him and smiled. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I would swear you were actually enjoying yourself.’
‘It’s good, then, that you do know me so well. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression,’ he said, his smile contradicting his stern words.
Iris leant in closer to him, certain that there was nothing wrong at all with the impression she had of the Earl.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Enjoying himself? Theo wasn’t sure. It had been such a long time since he had enjoyed himself, he no longer knew what enjoyment actually felt like. All he knew for certain was the fête wasn’t as bad as he had expected, but, as he had expected it to be completely intolerable, that wasn’t really saying a lot.
‘Good, there you are,’ the dreaded mother said, suddenly appearing beside him like a premonition of doom. Whenever that woman appeared it always resulted in Theo being strong-armed into doing something he did not want to do.
‘The prizes are about to be presented, so we need you over at the podium.’
Theo nodded. That wasn’t so bad. He’d already been warned about being expected to perform that particularly unwanted duty.
‘And you’re going to have to make a small speech,’ Lady Springfeld added. There it was, as expected. Theo nodded with a resigned smile—after all, he knew it would not be up for negotiation and there was no point trying to argue with his blackmailer.
Accepting his fate with as much dignity as he could, he took Lady Iris’s arm and she led him to the podium, where the crowds had already started to gather.
When the chattering had settled down, he stepped forward. ‘I’d like to officially welcome you all to my home and hope you have all had an enjoyable day.’
Despite the fact that I was blackmailed into hosting this event and am looking forward to you all leaving, he added to himself.
‘I’ve sampled some delicious food today, and been reliably informed that the vegetables, flowers, and crafts are exquisite.’
Not that I can possibly see any of them.
‘I believe I can confidently say that the produce from this area of Cornwall is the best in the county, and, as Cornwall is the best county in all of England, that means it is the best in the entire British Isles.’
This rather over-generous boast was greeted with a loud cheer of approval.
‘Everyone present deserves to be commended for their sterling efforts, but unfortunately only some can receive the prizes. So, let’s get on with presenting these ribbons and cups, shall we?’
‘And we’re all pleased to see you again, my lord,’ a voice called out from the back of the crowd. Followed by countless men calling out, ‘Hear-hear!’ and then a loud round of clapping and cheering.
‘I believe you have been missed,’ Lady Springfeld said as Theo took in the surprising jubilation from the crowd.
When the cheering finally settled down, the prizes were presented, the happy revellers departed, and the tents were packed up. Theo had expected that to be the end of it. He had paid his ransom to his blackmailer. Now Lady Iris and Lady Springfeld could also depart and leave him in peace.
But no. Apparently, it was essential for Lady Walberton and the other members of the organising committee to hold a post-mortem, right now, inside his home.
‘Oh, but we won’t need you,’ Lady Springfeld said, much to Theo’s relief. ‘You and Lady Iris can retire to your drawing room while we have our discussion in the blue room.’
She headed off down the hallway with the other ladies, all chattering at once. Leaving him and Lady Iris standing in the hallway.
Gracious of you, Theo thought, to let me know which room in my house I can use. But there was no point arguing, so he merely took Lady Iris’s arm and retreated to the room that had been assigned to him.
The door clicked shut behind them and Theo wondered at Lady Springfeld’s motives. Was she assuming that if she left Theo alone with Lady Iris he would not be able to contain himself, that he would inevitably kiss her and then Lady Springfeld would have him just where she wanted him?
Well, she was wrong. He was more than capable of keeping himself in check, and how dared she think otherwise? Had he not proved himself today? Despite having her on his arm, despite being able to inhale her delightful scent of orange blossom and rose water and being disturbingly conscious of her warm body so close to his, he had acted at all times in the manner of the honourable gentleman he knew himself to be. He’d had one lapse a few weeks ago in an otherwise unblemished life. That did not make him some sort of beast.
He led Lady Iris to where he knew the armchairs had been placed.
‘Well, that was so successful I suspect Lady Walberton will be suggesting that a fête be hosted here every year,’ she said, her voice teasing as she collapsed into a chair.
He took the adjacent armchair. Not if he had anything to do with it, he wanted to reply, but didn’t want to ruin her good humour. It wasn’t her fault that her mother hid a devious mind behind a sunny, cheerful façade, so he merely made a non-committal hmm.
‘You don’t need to sound quite so excited by the prospect,’ she said with a little laugh.
He heard a light tap on the door and the door slowly creaking open.
‘Excuse me, my lady, Lady Springfeld sent me in. I’ll just sit over in the corner, shall I?’
Lady Springfeld obviously did think him a beast who could not be trusted to be alone with her daughter. Presumably, she expected Theo to try and ravish Lady Iris the moment they were alone and had decided he needed to be watched constantly.
‘Thank you, Annette. Yes, that will be perfect,’ Lady Iris replied to her lady’s maid. ‘Did you have an enjoyable day?’
‘Oh, yes, thank you. It was just lovely,’ came the enthusiastic response from across the room.
Theo tried to suppress his irritation at the maid’s presence. After all, it was right and proper and did not necessarily mean that Lady Springfeld did not trust him. But he could not deny that deep down he had been anticipating, with some pleasure, spending time alone with Lady Iris, even if just briefly. Not that he had intended to kiss her again, but her presence was not entirely offensive to him, and he was even getting used to her constant chatter and laughter.
But at least with a chaperone in the room, Lady Springfeld would not be able to accuse him of taking liberties. Thank goodness for that. He hated to think what she would expect from him if he did kiss Lady Iris again�
��hosting the local hunt perhaps, a masked ball, a weekend party or two.
Lady Iris moved in her chair to turn towards her lady’s maid, and the gentle rasp of silk stockings moving against each other assaulted his ears. He moved uncomfortably in his seat. The last thing he should be thinking about right now was Lady Iris’s legs encased in silk, or any of the other soft parts of her body he had unforgivably touched.
As she continued to talk to the maid he sat up straighter in his chair and coughed to clear an annoying lump in his throat. He must not think about that kiss, must not think about his hands caressing her body. Such behaviour had already got him into enough trouble, and he did not need any more problems in his life. Although he had to wonder, would hosting a hunt or a ball in exchange for another kiss be such a bad deal?
What on earth was he thinking? As tempting as it was, the price was far too high. He had no intention of kissing Lady Iris again. Just as he’d had no intention of kissing her the first time he had taken her in his arms. Somehow, it had just happened, but it must never happen again.
The door squeaked open again and Charles entered, this time thankfully minus his dancing bells, but followed by an exhausted Max, who, after receiving his expected greeting from Lady Iris, slumped down at Theo’s feet and instantly started snoring lightly.
‘Shall I serve tea, my lord?’ Charles asked, once Max had finished with his grand entrance. ‘And the cook asks if you’d like some scones. There’s a new recipe she’s anxious to try.’
‘No!’ Theo and Lady Iris cried out in unison. Then they both laughed at their equally vehement reactions.
‘Thank you, Charles, no,’ he said, in a more serious manner. ‘But you might like to serve scones and tea to Lady Iris’s maid and the organising committee.’
‘And your Morris dancing was such a joy,’ Lady Iris added. ‘Wasn’t it, Annette?’
‘Oh, yes, it was grand,’ the lady’s maid said from across the room, her voice strangely abashed. ‘Best I’ve ever seen, and you looked right dashing in that costume.’
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 40
