Page 46 of Better Than a Duke
“As do I.” Heaven knew she didn’t want to give it another word. That would be wishing. “I do enjoy… chatting with you, as well.”
He nodded, gesturing her forward again. “I will also confess that Rebecca mentioned how lovely it would be if all four of us were able to ride. I am slow-witted, evidently.”
“You are too generous by half, but I’m not in a position to argue.”
“I feel I should note that in my journal.”
That made her laugh. “I do not know what to make of you, Lord Hentrose.”
“Likewise, Mrs. Silbern.”
Ugh. Another dinner party with the horrible lady. The only good part of it would be that Mrs. Alliday, the cook, was baking an orange meringue pie. Perhaps several of them. And Rebecca meant to nab one for herself and Brubbie, even if they had been banished to her bedchamber for the evening. She made her way down the hallway to the kitchen, which smelled like roast and oranges.
“How many pies are you baking, Mrs. Alliday?” she asked hopefully, lifting up on her toes to see inside the large bowl set on the worktable.
“Iwasbaking four of them, my lady,” the tiny woman said, and with a frown at the bowl, dumped its contents into a wastebasket full of radish tops and potato peels. “It will be almonds and fresh cherries now.”
Rebecca looked into the bucket. Such goodness and sweetness, lost to dirt and vegetables. “What happened?”
“It seems Lady Pauline dislikes oversweet desserts, and prefers fresh-picked cherries. And almonds.”
If Lady Pauline didn’t like her or meringue pies, there was no good to her at all. “But Papa said your orange meringue pies make his toes tingle.”
Scattered laughter across the kitchen reminded her that she probably shouldn’t share everything she and her papa conversed about. He’d meant for it to make her smile, but it sounded silly when she said it aloud.
“I’m very pleased to hear that,” Mrs. Alliday said with a smile, and handed her the spoon that had sat in the bowl. “We’ll make our pie another day. If Lady Pauline is to be our new mistress,we’ll need to have so many orange meringue pies before she arrives that we’ll never want to set eyes on one again.”
“Masquerade is ruining everything,” Rebecca muttered.
“Masquerade?”
“Oh. That’s just what Eddie and I call her. Because she pretends to be someone else when Papa is about.” She licked the spoon. “That is heavenly,” she declared. “My toes are tingling, too.”
“If she’s said something that makes you frown so, perhaps you should tell Lord Hentrose.”
“Aye,” George, the second footman, agreed, as he carried a candelabra past the doorway. “We don’t like to see ye frown, Lady Becks.”
“Oh, I could never tell Papa. She’s going to make him happy. I make his life harder.”
The footman and Mrs. Alliday glanced at each other. “I don’t see how that could possibly be,” the cook cooed, squatting down in front of her. “You are a ray of sunshine. A vase full of giggles and daisies. A—”
George cleared his throat. “Suffice it to say that you are adored, Lady Becks. By your father, especially. We’ve all seen it.”
Smiling, Rebecca kissed him on one cheek. “Thank you. I think perhaps I’m just tired. If there are enough cherries and almonds, may I have some after dinner? I suppose I shall have to learn to like them.”
“Of course you may. And I’ll see if I can sneak an orange meringue pie onto the menu for tomorrow night.” Standing up again, Mrs. Alliday touched Rebecca on one cheek.
“That would be wonderful. We’ll surprise Papa. Thank you!”
It was getting dark; the guests would be arriving any moment now. She needed to get upstairs so she wouldn’t have to see Masquerade, because that might give her nightmares again. One dayshe might have to listen to her; today, she didn’t. She hurried to the foyer and turned up the stairs.
“Good evening, Lady Rebecca.” Lady Pauline’s smooth voice came from the open front door, and Rebecca hunched her shoulders, stopping halfway up the stairs.
“Good evening, Lady Pauline,” she said, curtsying while she carefully kept one hand on the railing. No sense falling on her head for no good reason.
“You’re on your way upstairs, I see.”
“Yes. That’s where the stairs lead.”
