Page 33 of One Night with an Earl

“I wish I could stay longer,” Ana said.

“You cannot leave without sharing a cup of Turkish coffee with me,” Queenie said.

“I’d like that. Let me help prepare it.”

“As you wish.”

Ana followed Queenie into a small kitchen with a hearth for cooking. A narrow table by the hearth was where food would be prepared. A table and chairs were in the corner. Queenie reached for a small pot of hammered copper with a long, decorative gold handle. Next, she set aside two small porcelain cups decorated with red and gold exotic birds, and were solid white inside.

“I have memories of preparing this coffee with my mother,” Ana said.

Queenie sighed. “I have fond memories of drinking it with Silva.”

It had been a long time since Ana had brewed the coffee, but once she began, it was as if no time had passed at all. Using one of the small porcelain cups, she added two cups of water into the copper pot, two tablespoons of sugar, and two heaping teaspoons of dark coffee.

“A traveling Greek merchant sold me the coffee last week for a hefty price,” Queenie said as she took the pot to place it over the hearth.

Ana knew not to immediately stir the brew. The sugar would caramelize and enrich the flavor. After a minute, she began to slowly stir until a white foam appeared on the surface. Soon after, the aroma of fresh coffee perfumed the air and made Ana’s mouth water.

Using a tiny copper spoon, she scooped the foam from the pot and poured it equally into the two tiny cups. Once that was done, she poured the rest of the coffee into the cups, placed them on a tray, and carried them back to the parlor.

She settled back in her chair, and Queenie raised her cup. “Drink slowly and savor it.”

Ana sipped the brew. It was stronger than any coffee served at the London coffeehouses. She had grown accustomed to the dark coffee over the years and enjoyed the rich velvety flavor.

“It’s delicious.” She finished the small cup and started to put it down on the saucer when Queenie’s hand shot out to touch hers.

“No,” the older woman said. “I’d like to read your cup today.”

Ana’s brows drew together. “Why?” Queenie was adept at the skill, but she’d visited her mother’s friend for years and she’d never before asked to read her fortune.

“I sense tension in you. A tension that is different.”

Ana grew alarmed. The woman was as wise as a wizard, and deep down, Ana did not want to know what the thick grounds would reveal.

Would it show her night with the Earl of Drake?

Nonsense. She knew the fortune would not reveal a scandalous night at a brothel. Still, she did not wish to have her future told. Not today. Not now. Not when her own thoughts were as tangled as her mother’s prized grapevine on its trellis.

But there was no arguing with Queenie once her mind was set. The woman took the cup from Ana, placed the saucer on top of the cup, and handed it back to her.

Ana hesitated. Queenie was one of the best cup readers she’d had the good fortune to know. The art of fortune reading dated back thousands of years, yet many Englishmen would not believe in such superstitious nonsense.

But Ana was only half English. Her other half believed.

Queenie nodded as if she could already read Ana’s troubled thoughts. “Your questions will be answered.”

“I don’t have any questions.”

“You can lie to yourself, but never to Queenie.”

Ana knew better than to take offense. Queenie was as close as family.

“Good,” Queenie said. “Now place it down.”

Ana flipped her cup so that it was upside down on the saucer.

“Now place this on top of your cup.” Queenie removed a ring from her finger and handed it to Ana.