Daniel slid so swiftly from the chair where he’d perched, it was comical. He knelt on the carpet and pressed one hand to his heart, his blue eyes sparkling.
“Kat Holloway,” he said with warm earnestness. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
My heart thumped, the audacity of what I was doing flooding me with fear as well as excitement and anticipation. I suppose giddiness from my brushes with death also compelled me.
“I will, Mr.McAdam.” My words were shaky but sincere.
Daniel leapt to his feet and pulled me up with him, his arms going around me.
“Then I declare myself the luckiest man on earth,” he said fervently. “I am madly in love with you, Kat. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” I wanted to dance and shout in my relief and sudden flood of happiness, but that would hardly be dignified. “I believe I love you too, my dearest Daniel.”
29
I had to explain my burned hands at home, and I simply said I’d accidentally laid them on an iron kettle that was too hot. Mrs.Bywater tutted at my clumsiness, but she sent a salve down via Mrs.Redfern that soothed my skin once Daniel’s had worn off.
It could have been much worse, I knew.
I told Tess and Lady Cynthia the entire story after supper Friday night, and they listened, agog. Both praised me for my courage and scolded me for taking any risks at all.
Tess, who’d nipped out to speak to Caleb that afternoon, was full of the news that a few bombs had indeed gone off in various places around London—one near the Carlton Club in Pall Mall, another in front of an MP’s home, and one at a pub that shared a wall with Scotland Yard. Caleb had been summoned to help, and Tess had run home.
There had been some injuries, Mr.Davis announced whilereading his newspapers on Saturday morning, but warnings had come soon enough that there had been no deaths and those hurt were expected to recover. Other bombs had been dismantled before they could go off, and the stack of dynamite at Nelson’s Column had been defused entirely, as Daniel had told me.
Tess beamed at me as she rolled out tart dough, believing I had been the heroine who’d saved the day.
Daniel hadn’t visited Friday after he’d seen me back to Mount Street, and I did not expect him on Saturday either, though I planned to wait up, in case. On Saturday afternoon, I baked an entire batch of crullers and a whole lemon cake—with Tess’s ample help—using my own money for the ingredients, and gave it all to Mr.Grimes, who waited in the street that evening.
Mr.Grimes was amazed and thankful, and generously said he’d share with his men who’d helped keep me safe. I warmed as he walked away, happy that I had such a friend.
I’d sent a batch of currant buns across the city to Mr.Fielding, with instructions to give them out to his groom and the lads Mr.Fielding had recruited to look after me.
Mr.Fielding sent a note with his thanks and explained that the groom, when he’d seen Hannah go after Lady Fontaine into Lord Downes’s deserted house, had immediately run to fetch help. Lord Downes had tried to dismiss him that day, along with the rest of his staff, but the groom had lingered, suspecting something was very wrong.
I also rewarded Albie and my other lads well. Baking the things was costly, but I dipped into the ten guineas Lady Fontaine had given me and sent Charlie, the boot boy, out to the shops to fetch me the ingredients.
I hadn’t seen nor heard from Hannah since Daniel had taken me from Belgrave Square, but I assumed she and Sean had returned home to recover from the ordeal.
I did not do much on Saturday night after the rest of the staff went to bed. My hands hurt too much to hold my knives properly to sharpen them, and I had no desire to jot thoughts in my book. Tess had been more than generous with her assistance, doing the extra chopping, slicing, peeling, stirring, and kneading without complaint, and I’d sent her early to bed with my gratitude.
Tea steeped in the pot, and two cups and a plate of crullers with slices of lemon cake rested on the table. I’d made several extra cakes, one of which would go with Lady Cynthia to Mr.Thanos, the other to Miss Townsend. I’d told Cynthia to have Miss Townsend spread the word that the blackmail victims need worry no more.
Near midnight, when I was about to give into my exhaustion and go to bed, Daniel tapped on the door, and I hurried to answer it.
Daniel greeted me with a kiss, insisted on examining my hands, which he proclaimed were better, then let me lead him to the table.
We’d been shy with each other yesterday after our declarations, the pair of us who could chatter without ceasing suddenly with nothing to say. We were as quiet tonight, the tea trickling into cups the only sound as we settled at the table.
“Ah, your famous lemon cake,” Daniel said as he drew a slice toward him. “I knew something lured me here this night.”
“It’s naught but pound cake,” I said modestly, though I was proud of the recipe I’d perfected. “Scented with lemon and vanilla, and made with a bit of buttermilk.”
“When you bake it, it is heavenly.”
I sent him a wavering smile. “You needn’t pile on the flattery. I have already accepted you.”
Daniel’s brows rose. “So now that I have your pledge, I should be callous and disagreeable? That will never happen, I assure you.” He savored another bite. “My praise is not to gain things from you, my Kat. It is truth and well deserved.”
