AllFreeNovel
Share Us
13
“Lady Richardson is in the drawing room, miss. She is taking tea with Lady Hertfort.”
Rosalind’s fingers stilled on the banister. She’d snuck into the house about an hour ago, exhausted and covered with flour and bits of icing after her afternoon at Pennyfoil’s, quietly avoiding Jacobson and the other servants who might wonder at her appearance. The day had stretched far longer than she’d expected, and she’d rushed to make it home for tea. An order for Lady Derby had been placed which had required a great deal of time to fulfill. Lady Derby wanted not only the orange sponge cake, but the lemon torte and an assortment of smaller biscuits and other pastries.
The order was the largest yet for Pennyfoil’s. The price Rosalind had named for Lady Derby had been far higher than the sum they needed because she’d expected to negotiate. But Lady Derby’s butler hadn’t blinked at the price.
Pennyfoil had squealed with delight.
She’d hated to leave Pennyfoil today, but he’d waved her away. He knew Rosalind couldn’t be caught icing cakes with him until the wee hours of the morning. Mother had expected her home for tea. Hopefully, Lady Hertfort’s presence today would be brief. Rosalind wanted to avoid anything that reminded her of Torrington, and that included his sister.
He’d never acknowledged the lemon torte she’d left for him. Not until yesterday when a note had arrived. Well, not exactly a note. Only a recipe. And not one fromCuisiner pour les Rois.
Pain au chocolat.
Did he know that even the smell of chocolate reminded her of that afternoon? There had been no special instructions on this recipe. Nothing which would lead anyone to think she and Torrington had any sort of connection to each other.
Because we do not have a connection. Not even friendship, any longer.
Which was entirely for the best.
Rosalind smoothed down her skirts. Checked her hands to make sure there wasn’t any dough stuck beneath her nails. “I can see myself in, Jacobson. Thank you.”
The butler gave a resigned sigh and turned back in the direction he’d come.
Reaching the drawing room door, Rosalind placed her hand on the knob, faltering when she heard Lady Hertfort’s voice echo through the door.
“Torrington finds her acceptable.” The snobbish tone of Torrington’s sister met her ears. “He won’t rescind his offer. You worry needlessly.”
“Then why hasn’t he made a formal announcement? Or allowed me to do so? I’ve been so concerned he would tear up the contracts, I even mentioned to Lord Cheshire that my daughter had not yet made a suitable match. Just in case.”
“Heavens, Winifred. I wish you hadn’t done so. Cheshire?” Lady Hertfort made a sound. “Torrington would never go back on his word. He’s far too honorable. Everything has been signed. Witnessed. Agreed upon. You needn’t concern yourself further.”
Rosalind pulled her fingers back as if the metal had scorched her palm.
Oh, God.
Her breathing halted, paused momentarily by shock and sheer panic at Lady Hertfort’s words.
“I worried that he’d found someone to replace Stanwell,” Mother said. “And was no longer in need of a wife.”
“The search continues, of course, but it is highly unlikely Torrington’s solicitor will find another Stanwell. Thankfully.” Lady Hertfort made a derogatory sound. “I never approved of Stanwell to begin with. How stupid must you be to secure a title and then be foolish enough not to keep it? He didn’t even expire”—she lowered her tone—“with any sort of taste or dignity.”
“So I’m given to understand,” Mother replied.
“There isn’t any hope of finding another distant relation, Winifred. Please, put your fears aside.”
Rosalind fell back a step, thinking of how close she’d been to being seduced in Torrington’s kitchen. Had he succeeded, would he have merely done the honorable thing, with Rosalind never knowing—that he and her mother had already agreed—
“I’m sure you’re right. I only grew concerned, Margarite. I told Cheshire I was hoping to have Rosalind wed by the end of the season, which is, for all intents and purposes, at an end. I wish my daughter to have a home and a family. A husband. Not become some withered spinster with nothing to recommend her but a delicious plate of scones.”
Mother hadneverunderstood.
Rosalind had to press her hand against her mouth to keep from screaming.
No. No. No.
Panic bubbled in her chest. Her first inclination was to escape to the kitchens and mix up a batch of muffins. A good way to soothe her nerves—but muffins would not solve the problem at hand. Instead, Rosalind turned the knob and opened the door to see her traitorous mother and Lady Hertfort calmly sipping tea. You’d never know the two of them had been deciding Rosalind’s future for her.
