Page 50 of Gone With the Rogue
“There’s only one thing to do.” Julia walked over and grabbed a pan off the wall. “It doesn’t matter how it looks or feels. It’s how it tastes that matters. Let’s get it into the pan so it can rise.”
“And say good riddance,” Brina whispered under her breath.
After the dough was in a pan sitting on a table near the fire, and their hands were washed clean, it was time to cut the vegetables. They decided to clean up the flour from the table and floor after the vegetables were in the kettle.
Surely making soup had to be easier than making bread. There would be no measuring or sticky stuff to worry about.
Julia saw steam coming up from the kettle on the cook rack. “The water’s hot.”
“It’s getting hot in the kitchen, too,” Brina grumbled, wiping her forehead. “I think you made the fire too big.”
“I knew we had to have enough heat to cook the food,” Julia argued. “There was nothing to be done about that.” It surprised her how testy one could get while cooking.
By the time they finished chopping the cabbage, two potatoes, three onions, and several mushrooms, they had three large bowls of vegetables and one medium-size kettle of water boiling.
“Why does cabbage become so much more once it’s been cut up?” Brina asked as she looked at the mountain of food. “What are we going to do with all this?”
Julia had no idea but agreed it defied logic that something that looked relatively small could turn into a mammoth mound. But then, who would have thought baking bread could be such a chore, or that two little cabbages could look like they would feed Wellington’s army once they were chopped?
“Should we fill another kettle?”
“It will take too long for the water to heat.” Julia was ready to finish this and get out of the kitchen. “Let’s fill this one to the top with as many vegetables as we can get in it. We can take the rest of it over to the school andtheycan cook it tomorrow.”
“That’s a better idea.” Brina gave Julia a grateful smile.
Julia looked over at the bread and gasped. It had risen out of the bowl and had fallen over the sides of the pan and onto the table.
Brina looked at Julia and together they said, “Too much yeast!”
Julia took in a deep breath, determined not to let making bread get the best of her. “We’ll fill more pans and bake it.”
Finally, the bread was in the oven and the vegetables in the kettle. “The school will have enough bread for a week,” Julia said, washing her hands in a tub of water.
“Soup, too,” Brina added, dabbing a towel to her forehead. “I suppose we should clean up, but I would really rather sit down and have a cup of tea first.”
Julia surveyed the table, sticky with drying flour and dough, and littered with bits of cabbage, potato, and onion peelings and greenery from the celery. She thought she might never want to eat again. Especially if she had to do the cooking. It was too much work, and she simply didn’t want to eat that badly. And she had as much experience cleaning as she had cooking—which was none.
“I need something stronger than tea,” Julia said, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “I need to be fortified before I attempt cleaning that table. Port is a fortified wine. There’s an open bottle of it in the drawing room.”
“Excellent idea,” Brina agreed.
After a few minutes, a few laughs, and a few dry bits of humor about how they looked, Julia and Brina were well on their way to finishing their second glass of port. Tiny glasses emptied quickly.
When their chatter about the enlightening experience faded away, Garrett crossed Julia’s mind and she started feeling somber.
“I didn’t tell you, but Garrett and I have kissed and touched and much more,” Julia said softly.
Brina sat up straighter in the settee. “I thought as much, but didn’t want to pry.”
“When we were together it was hurried, frantic, but so magical I can’t stop thinking about it or stop wanting it to happen again and again even though I know the dangers of getting caught or getting in the family way. Either one would ruin my life with my son and that’s what I’m working to protect. My mind keeps saying,Be sensible. You have so much to lose,but my body, my heart keeps telling me what he makes me feel is worth the chance.”
They were quiet for a few moments before Brina leaned back against the settee cushion. She then drained her glass, placed it on the table in front of her, and asked, “Do you love him?”
“Sometimes I think I must, but I really don’t know. I desperately want to be with him again and feel those earth-shattering sensations. Yet there are the issues with the duke. And there’s the matter that Garrett is an adventurer. He could sail away again at any time and leave me with a broken heart.”
“Do you really think that’s the kind of man he is?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know he doesn’t usually stay in London very long. You’ve heard the gossip about mistresses and leaving young ladies with broken hearts.”
