“I did before I realized what was in the broth,” Alden admitted.
Miss Sidney laughed lightly. “It is common for sheep’s trotters to be boiled and are used in various dishes.”
Alden flicked his wrist at the footman. “Take this away,” he ordered, unable to stomach any more.
Placing her spoon onto the table, Miss Sidney said, “Perhaps the next course will be more to your liking.”
He dreaded his next question, but he asked it, nonetheless. “What is the next course?”
“Roasted Fowl with Drappit Egg,” Miss Sidney replied.
Alden let out a relieved sigh. “As long as it is not prepared in a sheep’s head, I will no doubt enjoy it.”
Miss Sidney offered him a reassuring smile. “I can confirm that it is not prepared in a sheep’s head.”
“Good,” Alden said, feeling slightly better.
“But it is prepared in a lamb’s head,” Miss Sidney said with a satisfied look on her face.
Alden eyed her curiously, wondering if she was just goading him. Why would Roasted Fowl be prepared in a lamb’s head? Was everything in this blasted country prepared with a head of some sort?
Just as he was about to voice his incredulity, Mrs. Hardy entered the room with a white sheet draped over her head. She sat down, and a footman quickly set a place for her. The sheet now had three holes cut into it: two for her eyes and one for her mouth.
Miss Sidney continued to sip her soup, unperturbed by her aunt’s peculiar behavior. Alden found this situation maddening. Perhaps it was because he was famished, having not eaten since breakfast, and now facing a traditional Scottish meal that, truth be told, frightened him a little.
He couldn’t wait to get married and leave this blasted country behind.
A footman collected Miss Sidney’s bowl and she wiped the sides of her mouth with the napkin. “I am sorry you didn’t like your soup,” she said.
What Alden wouldn’t give for pea soup, a sparerib and some pudding for dessert. Perhaps if he spoke to the cook and requested something different than Scottish food.
Knowing that Miss Sidney was still waiting for a response, Alden said, “It is of little consequence.”
“I spoke to Bryon, and he assured me that all the spiders at the cottage were removed,” Miss Sidney said.
“All the spiders?” Alden asked, dread creeping into his voice.
Miss Sidney bobbed her head. “This is Scotland. Spiders are very common indoors during the winter. It is much warmer there.”
Alden frowned. “Wonderful.”
“I do believe that you will find your cottage up to snuff,”Miss Sidney said. “The view isn’t as nice as the other one, mind you, but it has recently been remodeled.”
The footmen stepped forward and placed plates in front of them. Glancing down at his plate, he saw the Roasted Fowl with a poached egg, and his stomach growled. Despite his earlier reservations, he needed to eat. He picked up his fork and knife and started eating. To his pleasant surprise, the fowl was tender and moist.
They ate in a comfortable silence, but Alden noticed that Mrs. Hardy was hardly touching her food. He turned to address her. “Is the fowl not to your liking?”
No response.
Alden turned a questioning glance to Miss Sidney. “Does your aunt not speak?”
“When she is a ghost, she tends to keep to herself,” Miss Sidney replied. “Just pretend as if she isn’t here.”
“That is rather hard to do,” Alden said.
Miss Sidney placed her fork and knife down onto the plate, indicating she was done. “Ghosts can be quite peculiar about their meals,” she said with a wry smile. “But I assure you, she means no harm.”
Alden settled back in his seat. “This is certainly the most unique dinner I have ever attended.”
