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“Stop,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me laugh. They’ll hear it.”
Once the soup had been cleared away, Dick returned with a covered oval platter, which he placed on the table with a flourish. Mary crossed her fingers and her toes, hoping for better this time.
“Second course, milord and milady. Poison.” He bowed. “Enjoy.”
After Dick had retreated, Mary stared at the covered platter. “Tell me he didn’t say ‘poison’.”
“I believe he did.” Sebastian tilted his head. “Do we dare lift the dome for a peek?”
“I’m not looking. You look.”
“Maybe we should just ask for more pain instead.”
“Oh, you.” She plucked a roll from the basket and lobbed it at him. “I’ll give you pain.”
He lifted a finger to his lips. “Shh.”
In the kitchen, Dick and Fanny could be heard having a squabble of their own.
“Woman, what do ye have me sayin’ out there? Servin’ poison to his lordship.”
“I told ye, ’tis right here in the cookery book. P-O-I-S-S-O-N. Poison. That’s what they call it.”
“Oh, aye. That’s what the Frenchieswantye to believe.That’show they get you.”
Sebastian lifted the lid from the platter, revealing precisely what they both now expected: a steamed fish.
“Voila,”he said.“Poisson.”He reached for the fillet knife. “Shall I serve you some, my lady?”
“You try it first.”
“Iamknown for living dangerously.” He took a bite. Chewed. Sat a moment in thought. “It’s not poisoned. But it’s also not good.”
By the time Dick returned with the third course, the dining room was thick with suspense. In lieu of eating, Sebastian and Mary had spent the past several minutes placing bets on what disastrous dish they’d be served next.
“’Ere we are.” Dick plunked two shallow serving bowls on the table. “Stewed chicken and mash.”
“Really?” Well, that was disappointing.
“Cocky vein!”Fanny stormed out from the kitchen. “Lord above ye, man. How many times did I say it. It’s cocky vein and pumpery.” She swept her husband with a withering glance. “Have a bit of class, ye old fool.”
“Oh, I’m the fool, am I?” Dick followed her back into the kitchen, carrying on in a loud voice. “Yer the one what’ll have us sacked before I even serve the chocolate mouse.”
The shouting and arguing continued, interspersed with the banging of pots and pans.
Cringing, Mary poked at thecoq au vinand gave the dish ofpommes puréea cautious stir. It was the consistency of paste.
So much for a romantic dinner.
“Perhaps we’d be better off in Ramsgate after all,” she said, resigned. “I’d best pack my things. Do you think they’d notice if we just slipped upstairs?”
“Not for another hour or two, at least.” He threw down his serviette. “Come along, then. Let’s make our escape.”
Together, they crept up the stairs to the bedchamber and shut the door behind them. Once they were alone, she couldn’t help but laugh. “The worst part of it is, I’m so hungry.”
“Take heart. If we make haste, we’re less than an hour’s drive from a proper meal.”
She turned her back to him. “Will you help me with the buttons and laces? I need to change for the journey.”
