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Pippa laughed, her eyebrows drawing together. Her eyes flashed to James before settling on the baby in her lap. It would appear that she did not intend to engage in any degree of flirtation when there was company present. Very well, William could work around that.
He smoothed his coat over his lap. He hadn’t yet tightened his cravat, but he’d watched Pippa’s eyes dip to his exposed neck more than once, so he felt no great motivation to tighten it yet. “My kitchen would certainly be brighter if you—”
“You do not want my auntie to be your cook,” James said, scoffing. “Not unless you only wish to eat muffins.”
“Does Miss Sheffield make muffins, then?”
“Yes, and they’re quite good,” Pippa said primly.
“They are good,” James added, “but she makes nothing else.”
“I think I could easily subsist on a diet of muffins and nothing else.”
“Are you not looking to hire Lily Burke?” she asked. Her voice raised a little, her tone growing higher. Did William detect a hint of alarm in her tone?
“Ah, yes. I believe my father spoke to Mr. Burke today.”
The baby whined and Pippa stood, bouncing him on her hip as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Shhh, Liam,” she crooned. She removed her glove and gave it to him to play with, and he quieted. Returning her attention to William, she smiled. “I am grateful that you thought to ask Miss Burke. She is an excellent cook and will provide you with far more than measly muffins.”
At this moment, William did not want anything more. He watched Pippa’s bare hand ball into a loose fist, the back of her knuckles stroking her nephew’s soft cheek. William’s heart constricted, the love in her tender touch so achingly apparent it flooded him with grief over his own loss. He shook himself, hoping to rid the demons that threatened to descend upon him. He couldn’t think about Mother’s death, about how wholly it had been avoidable, not unless he wanted to be overcome with anger and fury and thrown into a rage.
No, he needed to temper those thoughts and replace them with something, anything else.
Squaring his gaze on Pippa, he tried to smirk. “Of course, if you’d like to present me with a muffin—”
“Mr. Blakemore,” a booming voice said from the doorway. Mac filled the space, ducking his head to enter the small, cozy sitting room, and crossed the floor. “My wife told me that we had a visitor. I believe I have you to thank for bringing my daughter home from the cove?”
“She likely could have walked well enough on her own,” William said, glad his flirtatious remark had been interrupted before he could condemn himself.
Mac’s gaze dropped to William’s disheveled cravat and absent coat. He crossed his arms, and his imposing height was intimidating. William wasn’t one to scare easily, but he hadn’t before encountered such a massive, sturdy gentleman.
William swallowed, suddenly filled with motivation to tighten his cravat again.
A maid came into the room with a tray of tea and cake and set it on the small table in the center of the room. Mac moved to sit beside Pippa and took Liam from her arms so she could pour the tea. Mac’s monstrous size made the chubby, rosy-cheeked babe look even smaller, but he held Liam in a delicate, gentle way.
“How do you take your tea?” Pippa asked, snapping William’s attention to her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a man hold his own baby this way, and it struck him as odd. He respected Mac greater for it, though he couldn’t say exactly why that was.
“Sugar and milk, if you have it.”
Pippa’s eyebrows lifted as she proceeded to pour. He wanted to tease her, to find out how she took her tea—he suspected with heaping amounts of sugar—but Mac’s watchful eye made the words die swiftly on his tongue. He accepted the tea with gratitude, drinking the warm liquid and allowing it to soothe his hungry stomach.
He really ought to remember to eat before taking a walk next time.
“Mr. Blakemore has hired Lily to cook for his family,” Pippa said, pouring and preparing her brother-in-law’s tea.
Mac accepted the cup, keeping it out of reach of the baby. “Is that so? She makes an excellent pasty.”
William had the distinct feeling that Lily Burke was a close friend to this family.
“No, Liam,” Mac said, moving the cup further from his son’s reach.
Pippa handed James a cup of tea before preparing her own. She sliced the cake and distributed it on little plates, and William’s mouth salivated as the moist pound cake hit his tongue.
Mac peered at William so long he wondered if he’d accidentally loosened his cravat further instead of tightening it. “You’ll need to get started on tilling soon if you intend to plant for the spring.”
William hadn’t thought of that, and he was inordinately glad that the man had farming on his mind. He was large and intimidating and William didn’t want him to discern his growing interest in Pippa.
Though, Mac made a valid point. They chose early autumn to arrive at the cottage—well, chose wasn’t entirely true, as they hadn’t had much choice at all in the matter—and it was too late for some of the vegetables he knew they’d need. If they were going to winter in Devonshire, they needed to make a plan. “I hoped to start fishing tomorrow night.”
