Page 46 of Gone With the Rogue
“That won’t change who you are. Someone who’s never made her own bed or a loaf of bread.”
“Just because I don’t have to make a bed doesn’t mean I can’t do it. And I can learn how to bake bread.”
Julia thought about Brina’s words for a few steps.Of course, Julia could make a bed, too. Not that she’d ever had to, but she was sure she could manage to tuck the sheets and put all the covers and pillows in the right places. But could she make bread? If she had to in order to feed Chatwyn, could she do it?
“I have an idea,” Julia said, keeping up with Brina’s fast, irritable pace.
“I probably won’t like your idea any better than I liked Sister Francine’s.”
Julia couldn’t help but smile. Brina wasn’t ready to forgive either one of them. “Maybe you won’t, but listen to me anyway.”
“I have nothing else to do while we walk to the carriage,” she said tightly.
“Let’s you and I bake bread one day.”
Brina stopped again and looked at Julia with interest but remained silent.
“I’m serious about this,” Julia said. “I’ll arrange to have Mrs. Lawton be away from the house at the school for an entire day so we can be there by ourselves.” How Julia would manage that right now, she didn’t know. “You and I will go into the kitchen and we will bake bread and make a pot of soup.”
Brina folded her arms across her chest and breathed in deeply before asking. “Do you know how?”
“I have no idea,” Julia admitted honestly. “But it can’t be that difficult, can it? You mix yeast and flour with water and put it into a pan and bake it. I know that much. After we finish, we can take the food to the school for the girls to enjoy and we’ll clean up before Mrs. Lawton returns. No one else need ever know.”
“I think I like this idea, Julia. That way I can tell Sister Francine that I might look delicate but I’m not. I know how to work and will be able to do my share.”
“Yes,” Julia agreed, feeling quite pleased with herself for coming up with such a good plan. “You can tell Sister Francine that you have actually baked bread and cooked soup.”
“Yes,” Brina said, sounding more excited than ever. “We’ll make chicken soup. That will be delicious for the girls and it must be easy. You just drop a chicken in water and boil it and add some potatoes. Right?”
Julia’s stomach roiled. She cared too much for animals to think about eating meat or fowl of any kind. Occasionally, she would indulge in fish or other delicacies that came from the sea. The thought of cooking a chicken—well—no—not even for her friend.
Brina must have realized Julia’s hesitation. “I forgot that you don’t eat—never mind about the chicken. I don’t know where we would get one anyway. We’ll make vegetable and root soup. We should find plenty of those in the kitchen’s cupboard and larder.”
“Yes,” Julia said, thankful that was settled. “Vegetable soup sounds much better.”
Brina’s smile returned. “Thank you, Julia. You are the dearest friend. This is the perfect solution to my problem.”
“We’ll make sure you can do this before you go back for another meeting with Sister Francine. I want you to make the best decision for you.”
The two fell silent as they walked. There was much for both of them to think about. Julia wasn’t immune to the struggles of Brina’s dilemma. It was as real as Julia’s with the duke, Mr. Pratt, and Garrett.
Garrett.
Her breaths quickened. She remembered in detail every touch, every taste, and every sound they’d madewhen he held her so tightly and they kissed so passionately. He’d made her ravenous for his touch. When she was in his arms she felt as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.
Suddenly Julia blinked against the dry air. She used to think ofa man’s touch, but now she thought ofGarrett’stouch.
Chapter 15
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ashfield.” Garrett took off his hat and gloves and laid them on the table. The first thing he noticed upon entering was that Urswick’s assistant had added a painting to one of the walls, just as Garrett had asked. It was a ship with full sails gliding on calm waters, the beautiful and peaceful colors of early morning sunrise breaking across the sky behind it.
“And good day to you, Mr. Stockton,” Ashfield said excitedly, coming from behind his desk. “May I show you something, sir?”
“Certainly,” Garrett said, assuming the man wanted to make sure he saw the painting on the wall. Instead, the secretary held out his hands before Garrett and made tight fists and then opened and spread his fingers wide. “The grip in my hands has improved greatly.” He repeated the action a couple more times. “Andit’s not just the movements of my hands, sir. All my joints, hips, knees and shoulders feel better than they have in years. Even my wife has noticed I have more of a happy bounce to my step.”
“Well, if the wife has noticed then it is good news.”
Ashfield beamed.
