Page 42 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
But looking at the two expectant faces before her, Euphemia decided that the mysterious little game with the twins was precisely the distraction she needed to keep her mind from wandering back to that night.
She softened her expression and let a warm smile spread across her face. She looked toward Cordelia first, giving a firm nod of her head. “I accept your challenge, Lady Cordelia.”
Then, turning her gaze back to the corner of the room, she looked directly at Georgianna and offered a small, respectful bow of her head. “Also Lady Georgianna, it will be an honor to prove myself worthy of your friendship.”
She turned back to Cordelia, leaning forward. “Before I embark on this... dangerous mission, tell me, are there any other rules I should know for my first task?”
Cordelia nodded, her eyes wide. “The most important rule is that you absolutely must not get caught, Your Grace. We know that because you are the Duchess, the servants in the kitchen will giveyou whatever you ask for if you simply command them. But that is not allowed. Our papa and the housekeeper have very strict rules about how many sweets Georgianna and I are permitted to have, and the cook will never let us have them now. We want to see if you can truly be on our side... if you can be a real friend to us. You must steal them. If anyone catches you in the act, or if you have to ask for them, you fail, Your Grace.”
Euphemia forced back a smile, trying to keep her face serious. In her mind, she couldn’t help but think that this was a wonderfully simple task. Growing up, sneaking around had been an essential art form for her and her sisters. It was the only way they had ever managed to smuggle in the prohibited novels they so dearly loved, or do anything else that Lady Byron would never have allowed.
She was, in truth, an absolute expert at moving through a house unnoticed.
However, she knew better than to let the girls see how easy it would be. If she made it look like child’s play, the victory would mean nothing to them.
So, she let out a heavy sigh, letting her shoulders drop as if she were facing a great and perilous mountain. “My goodness,” she murmured, widening her eyes. “This sounds like a difficult task, girls. The cook has eyes like a hawk, and sneaking past the footmen will be quite dangerous. But because I care for you both so very much, and because I want nothing more than to play with you, I shall risk it. I accept your terms.”
Cordelia let out a high-pitched peep, clapping her hands in pure delight. Over in the corner of the room, Georgianna’s lips parted into a genuine, beautiful smile. But the moment the little girl caught Euphemia watching her, however, she quickly ducked her chin and hid the expression behind her doll’s porcelain head.
With a determined nod, Euphemia stood up from her seat, smoothed down the skirts of her morning gown, and set off to execute her grand heist.
The kitchen at Greymoor occupied the eastern end of the ground floor, past the servants’ corridor and through a door that... she had learned this in her first week, swung outward rather than inward and had hinges that needed oiling. She had noted it at the time with no particular purpose in mind. It turned out to have a purpose.
She did not go through the main servants’ corridor. She took the longer route, through the back passage that ran alongside the linen room, which she had discovered by accident one afternoon when she had taken a wrong turn looking for the library. It was narrow and unlit and smelled of stone, and more importantly it emerged into a small antechamber just off the kitchen that was used for storing dry goods — flour, oats, preserves in rows of dark glass jars — and which was, at this hour of the morning, empty.
She stood in the antechamber doorway and listened.
Mrs. Gable’s voice was audible from somewhere deeper in the kitchen, giving instructions to someone about the luncheon. Aclatter of pots sounded out, the low voice of the kitchen maids came too, then footsteps moving away from her, toward the far end of the room.
She waited and counted to fifteen.
Then she went in.
The sweets were where she had suspected they would be, in a large ceramic jar on the second shelf of the pantry alcove, just inside the kitchen door. She reached it in four steps, lifted the lid with one hand, and discovered that Mrs. Gable kept the jar stocked with an admirable variety. Sugar almonds. Candied ginger. Small rounds of barley sugar.
She took a careful selection and folded them into her handkerchief. Replaced the lid and turned to walk away.
Euphemia stepped back into the antechamber, pulled the door to behind her without latching it, and stood with her back flat against the shelving while the cook moved through the kitchen not eight feet away, still talking, still unaware that she was standing in the dry goods store holding a handkerchief full of stolen sugar almonds.
She waited until the footsteps receded again.
Then she walked, at a perfectly normal pace, back down the narrow passage, up the corridor, and into the drawing room where two small girls were waiting.
When Euphemia marched back into the room, she closed the door with her elbow and gave the twins a triumphant grin. “Mission accomplished,” she whispered loudly.
Cordelia broke out into a fit of breathless giggles, and to Euphemia’s absolute delight, even Georgianna abandoned her corner. She ran forward, her doll dangling carelessly from her hand as she rushed over to the low table to inspect the stolen treasure. Both girls clapped their hands in a frantic, muted celebration.
Euphemia quickly emptied her pockets, a small waterfall of sweets tumbling onto the tabletop. As the girls eagerly reached out, Euphemia gently placed her hands over the pile, her expression turning firm but warm. “Hold on, my little accomplices. We must be careful. You may only have a few pieces each for now, and we shall have to space the rest out over the coming days. Your Papa and Mrs. Gable are quite right that too many sweets in a single afternoon will ruin your health, and we certainly cannot have the cook noticing a massive shortage all at once.”
The twins looked at each other, but the sheer thrill of the successful task was enough to satisfy them. They both nodded in quick agreement, each carefully selecting two lemon drops and a single sugar plum.
“You did it,” Cordelia declared around a mouthful of sour sugar. “You passed the first test perfectly. Now, it is time for the second task.”
“I’m listening,” Euphemia beamed.
“Your second task...” Cordelia continued. “...is that you must tell us a story about yourself. A true story from when you were a little girl just like us.”
Euphemia’s smile faltered slightly, a sudden weight dropping into the pit of her stomach. She looked at the two eager faces waiting for her, and for a terrifying moment, her mind went completely blank. The truth was, she did not have a fond childhood. Her early years were not filled with light, laughter, or the gentle, sunlit memories most children enjoyed, they were clouded by rules, and a deep, aching absence.
