Page 93 of Better Than a Duke
“They just have to stay out there long enough to fall in love.”
“He chose the cherry dessert, just as you said.”
Rebecca nodded. “Because he’s nice. The b—”
“Rebecca,” her grandmother’s voice came from the kitchen doorway.
She jumped. “Yes, Grandmama?”
“As I’ve said before, you are to call me Grandmother. It’s more dignified.”
“Yes, Grandmother?”
The dowager marchioness pinched her lips together. “God, that’s just as horrid. Where is your father? He’s expected in the library.”
“You just missed him. He said that was where he was headed,” Rebecca lied, crossing her fingers behind her back to ward off any bad luck from telling fibs.
“Good. It’s time the nonsense stopped.” Lady Hentrose gave the kitchen a grimace, then turned her back. “I’d best give it five minutes,” she muttered as she headed back to the main part of the house. “Perhaps four. Beckett’s annoyingly astute.”
Her grandmother meant to be the one to discover her papa being compromised, then. And four minutes wasn’t enough time for anyone to fall in love. “Oh no,” Rebecca breathed.
“What is it, my sweet?” Mrs. Alliday asked.
It was time for that quick thinking. Rebecca picked up the bowl of orange meringue. “I wish I could spill this on Masquerade.”
“It would serve her right, choosing cherries and nuts. Anyone can put out cherries and almonds.” Mrs. Alliday wiped her hands on her apron.
“I agree. But I’m going to spill it on my grandmother.”
The cook gasped. “You can’t, my lady!”
“I have to. She’s going to ruin everything.”
“You be careful, Lady Becks. The dowager marchioness has a temper.”
“Oh, I know that.”
How, though, could she make it look like an accident? She had no reason to be carrying a bowl of meringue out of the kitchen, after all. Oh, she could say she was rescuing it from being thrown out, because Lady Pauline didn’t like oranges. Rebecca grinned to herself. Sometimes she was dreadfully clever.
Speeding her pace, she hurried back into the drawing room to see her grandmother halfway through the opposite door. Edmund was on his feet, looking about as if trying to figure out how he could create a distraction to keep Whiskers from going to find Lady Pauline while she was locked in the library, and Whiskers was already scowling like she smelled something amiss.Dash it all. There was only one thing to do now.
Pretending to trip, Rebecca flipped the bowl in the air, halfway caught it again, and encouraged it to plop thick meringue all over her as she bobbled it to the floor. “Oh no!” she squealed, smearing creamy orange down her face and dress and flinging it about in the same motion. “Grandmother, help me!”
The dowager marchioness turned around. “Good heavens. I told you not to touch things, child.”
“But I did!” She scowled, then made a loud sob. “I’ve ruined my dress!”
Her grandmother took a step back into the room, while Mrs. Brubbins and Bradley attacked Rebecca with table doilies and a throw blanket to wipe off the delicious-smelling mess. Putting a hand behind her back, she gestured madly at Butler. This was earlier than they’d wanted, because her papa and Mrs. Silbern had only been outside for a minute, but if someone released either Masquerade or Old Moldy, their entire plan would be ruined. That made her next sob more real, but her grandmother still didn’t move any closer. She didn’t leave either, though, and that was what mattered.
“Grandmother, what gets meringue out of a dress?” she sobbed.
“I have no idea. Not smearing it on yourself in the first place, I would imagine.”
Butler slipped out the door behind the dowager marchioness. Lord Michael snickered at her, and narrowing one eye, Rebecca flipped her fingers, sending a splatter of meringue onto his knee. Ha! She’d learned some things from Mrs. Silbern, so the boys had best keep on their toes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It always came down to the butler, John Butler mused, hurrying back down to the library. He did know nearly everything going on in the household; everyone’s strengths, their weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, and how to keep everything running smoothly with what looked like no effort at all.
