“What do you think of the salmon pie and potato pudding, Lady Victoria?” he ventured a little while later. She had barely touched the potato, and he had caught her muttering something about the lack of taste after she had eaten her second mouthful of the pie.
Robert’s personal thoughts on the food this evening was that Mrs. Stevenson had gone with a safe, bland selection of dishes. Whomever was running the kitchen wasn’t well acquainted with spices, or if they were, they had thought that salt and pepper was enough.
I have some fresh dill at home that would go nicely with this pie.
The nutmeg he had lifted from the East India Company last month would have paired well with the potato pudding. But he wasn’t in the habit of trying to supply private residences with his ill-gotten goods. Servants tended to gossip, and he didn’t want to raise the suspicions of the East India.
“The pie is pleasant, and the potatoes well cooked,” she replied.
She really had retreated into her shell. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But then he reminded himself that this was the person who had embarked on a campaign to see him removed fromthe Morning Herald.
“Come. Come now. I would have thought that a person with your esteemed palate would have more than that to say about the food. You do the rest of us a disservice if that is all you are going to contribute, Lady Victoria.”
He waved a hand in the direction of the other guests seated close by, who all nodded their agreement with his sentiments. Silence was not going to win her any points in this game.
She cast a glance in his direction, and he caught the expression of pain on her face. Good. That would teach her not to meddle in his affairs.
“The potato could do with some more spice, but that is only my humble opinion. Others may have found it suited their taste.”
Robert’s teeth grazed his bottom lip. This was getting him nowhere. He could spend the rest of the evening trying to get a rise out of her, but from the way she spoke it was clear Lady Victoria Kembal had retreated behind her walls.
And then a wicked thought struck him. He had read all her letters, including the ones which the newspaper hadn’t printed.
“I personally would say that the delicate balance of cream and spice was handled particularly well. That the recipe isn’t something that should be challenged at any time.”
I think I quoted that pretty much word for word.
Her eyes grew wide at his words. When he met her gaze, he gifted her a sly knowing grin. A challenge. This fox owned the hen house. Any little chickens who thought themselves braveenough would soon learn the bloody truth of just who had the sharpest teeth.
Oh, I know who you are and what you wrote in those letters. If you want to take me on, I’m more than willing to see you leave this table in tears.
He’d read her letters. Had quoted verbatim what she had written in one of her latest missives tothe Morning Herald. The newspaper hadn’t printed that note, so the only way the Duke of Saffron Walden could have known about it was if…
Oh dear god.
The dirty rotten scoundrel had been toying with her all evening. Any wonder he wanted to sit next to her. Had been all smiles and charm with her parents. This had been some cunning plan on his part all along.A way to publicly humiliate her while knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to strike back.
Victoria pushed another piece of the salmon pie onto her fork and lifted it to her mouth. He had her right where he wanted. They both knew it.
Fighting back tears, she slowly chewed her food. Every morsel was ground down to nothing by the time she finally swallowed. When she looked up at him one last time, it was through a sheen of tears. She blinked them away but there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say to him. He had won.
I will not make a scene. Not let him savor his victory in front of everyone else.
She was the picture of calm elegance as she turned to the guest on her other side and made a polite remark about thewoman’s gown. “I have been meaning to tell you how much I adore that color. I would love for the name of your modiste.”
A snort of male disgust reached her ears, but she didn’t so much as bat an eyelid as she gave her female companion her full attention for the rest of the evening.
But if the Duke of Saffron Walden, the secret reviewer forthe Morning Herald, thought she would let this insult lie, he was sadly mistaken. She’d grown up in a family with three brothers, and if anyone knew how to bide their time and exact sweet revenge it was Lady Victoria Kembal.
He’d made a point of letting her know about their secret connection. And in doing so had shown he considered himself invincible. Now, all that remained was for her show him how badly he was mistaken.
Let this prideful duke enjoy this evening—his fall was soon to come.
Chapter Seventeen
Her simmering rage heated Victoria’s blood, making sleep impossible. Lying awake staring up at the darkened ceiling of her bedroom for hours on end had given Victoria an appreciation of why men fought duels at the hour of dawn. Any later and their fury would see them go mad.
Rude. Impossibly rude man. How dare he speak to her like she was a foolish child? He’d read all her letters and thought so little of her that he didn’t care that she now knew he was the culinary critic for the newspaper.
