His words were music to her ears. They were actually going to cook. But she was still a little ill at ease. “You must think me ridiculous. I expect just about every other person in the entire city of London could make an omelet and not require a recipe.”
He counted out three eggs and carefully handed them to her. “Everyone had a first time. Even me.”
Victoria stood clutching the eggs to her chest as Robert grabbed a heavy pan from beside the stove and put it onto the hot plate. He pointed at the pan. “This new stove contraption is brilliant. I can cook so many things and all at the one time.”
She watched with keen interest as he cut a large pat of butter off a block and dropped it into the pan. “What do you want me to do with the eggs?”
“Grab a bowl from under the bench, then crack the eggs into it. Can you do that?”
Collecting a bowl was achievable. The cracking of eggs might well be beyond her nonexistent skills. “You may need to show me what to do with the eggs.”
He left the pan and butter heating on the stove top and hurried over to the bench. After placing a large ceramic dish in front of Victoria, Robert took one of the eggs from her hands and tapped it on the side of the bowl. His fingers did something magical and the egg yolk and white dropped into the bowl, leaving the shell in his hand.
“That’s incredible, how did you do that?”
He took the other two eggs from her hands and placed them on the table. “Come and stand in front of the bowl,” he instructed. Victoria did as asked, sucking in a sudden sharp breath as her captor-come-tutor came and stood behind her. With his arms encircling her body, he picked up the next egg and with one hand cracked it on the side of the dish. As with the first egg, the contents dropped into the bowl, and Robert was left holding the shell.
Magic. Nothing short of magic.
“Third time is the charm, but since this is your first attempt at cracking an egg, perhaps we should try the simpler way of doing it.”
He handed her the last egg. “Now tap it hard against the edge. When it cracks, use both your thumbs to pull the shell apart.”
Victoria wasn’t sure which made her more nervous. Breaking an egg or having this man stand so close to her. With everybreath she took in his manly scent. She swallowed deep, forcing down the primal urges which continued to stir.
“Don’t worry if you drop a little bit of the shell into the bowl, I can use my fingers to take it out,” he breathed into her ear.
She bit down on her bottom lip. The thought of him and his fingers sent her mind running to wicked places. To nights of lying in bed and her own hand…
Her breathing was ragged as she raised her hand and struck the side of the bowl. The egg gave a satisfying crack, and with shaking hands, Victoria pulled the sides of the shell cleanly apart. She was still silently congratulating herself at her efforts, when Robert scooped up the dish and headed over to the stove.
In a matter of seconds he had grabbed a fork, whisked the eggs, and after adding some salt and pepper, poured the mixture into the now sizzling pan. “Grab some of the chives from the pot,” he called over his shoulder.
Victoria spun on her heel and quickly searched the nearby bench. Her gaze landed on a large pot containing all manner of herbs. A veritable cook’s garden in the kitchen. What a clever idea. She reached for the chives, then stopped.
How do you harvest herbs?
He must have read her mind. “There is a pair of scissors next to your cloak. Just trim off a couple of inches of the chives and bring them over here.”
She found the scissors, then with great care cut a few stems and brought them over to where Robert was standing at the stove. He took them and the scissors, and proceeded to snip the chives into tiny pieces, dropping them over the eggs which were cooking in the pan.
“The omelet will be ready very soon, so we probably don’t have time to chop up anything else,” he said.
Victoria nodded her understanding, smiling when he added, “Timing is essential in the kitchen. Preparation is everything. Ifyou have all your ingredients washed and cut up ready for the pot or the pan, then you can focus on the cooking part.”
He was actually giving her a cooking lesson. She felt close to tears. This was beyond her wildest dreams.
Apart from the being his prisoner part.
Her mother would be in the midst the world’s biggest temper tantrum if she had the slightest idea as to what Victoria was doing right now. Instead of being tucked up in bed with a good book, she was alone with an unwed nobleman. While being held captive in his home.
Did I mention we were making an omelet?
And if Victoria was honest about it, the duchess would be well within her rights to be losing her mind. Her middle daughter was flagrantly ignoring the part where she’d agreed to do her best to marry sensibly, while also avoiding getting her family involved in any more scandals.
Then again, it would only be a scandal if I got caught.
She doubted very much that the Duke of Spice would be looking to tell anyone about the events that were transpiring in his kitchen this evening, least of all the Duchess of Mowbray.
