A Taste for Scandal (19 page)

“Where is your sister?” she blurted out, looking past him into the alley. Surely he hadn’t run ahead of her for some reason, leaving the poor girl to navigate the streets on her own.

“Unexpectedly and unavoidably detained, I’m afraid. She sends her regrets.” Another innocent smile. A few golden curls spilled from beneath his tall hat, framing his face like a halo.

Detained? Well, that wouldn’t do. Without Beatrice—their chaperone of sorts—they couldn’t possibly continue. The girl served as a buffer between Jane and the earl; without her Jane could easily be trapped by the man’s uncanny ability to somehow sneak past her defenses. But even beyond that, her brother and cousin were gone to the docks again—inviting the earl in would be the ultimate folly.

She tried to ignore the unexpected pang of disappointment that drooped her shoulders. Based on her silly reactions to the man whenever he was near, there was no way she could allow herself to be alone with him, even if it wasn’t wildly improper—which it most certainly was.

As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t be here now, at her back door, while she was alone. She glanced past him to the empty alley once more. They were safe from Mrs. Brown’s prying eyes on this side of the building, but that didn’t mean any one of the neighbors behind her wouldn’t love to spread some fresh, juicy gossip about the unmarried baker.

She closed the door to the point where she could just fit her head in the narrowed opening. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you send a note? Coming here alone, especially to the rear entrance, is asking for trouble. Do you have any idea what my neighbors would think if they saw you here?”

His eyebrows drew together. “I thought you preferred for us to come this way. And I didn’t send a note because I am still perfectly willing and able to complete the lesson. Beatrice received a last-minute invitation to tea with the Duchess of Worthington, and one never turns down a duchess. I had hoped you wouldn’t mind if it was just me.”

“Of course I mind that it’s just you. Clearly we’ll have to postpone. And in the future, please just have a note sent around. Good day, Lord Raleigh.”

She didn’t exactly slam the door in his face, but it was close. Her heart hammered; please, please let him leave without anyone seeing him. Not even five seconds elapsed before he was rapping insistently on the door. She chewed her lip. If she ignored him, would he go away, or make a nuisance of himself?

She quickly had her answer when his muffled voice filtered through the door. “Jane!”

Oh, good Lord! She yanked the door open, shushing him angrily. Her eyes darted up and down the street. That was all she needed—her neighbors overhearing her back-door visitor calling her by her given name. Movement in one of the second-floor windows across the way caught her eye, and she made a split-second decision. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged him into the shop and slammed the door.

“Well, if I’d have known you would be so happy to see me, I would have come days ago.” He grinned that lazy grin of his, and even through her annoyance her heart gave a little leap in her chest. Which, of course, only served to annoy her more.

She scowled, unamused, and released his sleeve. “Be serious, for once. You must never speak my given name outside like that again. Good heavens, are you trying to cause trouble for me?” She pressed a hand to her stomach and exhaled a deep breath.

Richard lifted an eyebrow, his expression an odd combination of wryness and concern. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I was too surprised at having the door slammed in my face.”

Backing up a few steps, she shook her head. “I didn’t slam the door in your face. I bid adieu to you until such time that your sister could rejoin us.”

He crossed his arms. “And then slammed the door in my face.”

She dipped her head, not denying it this time. Let them call a spade a spade.

“I regret that my sister cannot join us, but I see no reason why we can’t continue the lesson.”

“Other than the fact it would be completely improper, of course.”

He waved a hand as if brushing away her concerns. “I don’t mind if your brother joins us instead. I can pay him for his time, if need be.”

She rubbed her hands back and forth over her arms. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He and my cousin are at the docks today.”

Cracking the door open, she peaked out to see if all was clear. Just when she started to pull open the door to send Richard on his way, the door diagonally across the way swung open, and Mr. Clifford and his son emerged, each carrying an armload of crates. Jam and splash, if they were clearing out the storeroom, they’d be out there for minutes at least.

She snapped the door closed and turned back to face Richard. “My neighbor is in the alley now. We’ll have to give him a few minutes before trying to sneak you out.”

Despite Jane’s distress, Richard was anything but displeased at the news.

When he’d come, it had been with the assumption that her brother would likely have to join them. The realization that they were alone—no siblings, no cousins, no interruptions—made the small act of standing in her kitchen take on a whole new meaning.

All his good intentions for the afternoon seemed to vanish as he breathed in her sweet, sugary smell and listened to her quickened breath. Clearly, he was not the only one who was affected by their solitude.

He gave a casual shrug, as if he did this sort of thing every day. “Well, I’m already here. We might as well proceed without them. What is the recipe for today?”

“Oh, no, you can’t—”

“Will it involve any of the ingredients from the basket?”

As a diversion tactic, it was brilliant. He’d been waiting for days to see what her reaction would be. He wasn’t about to let a little thing like Bea’s absence get in the way.

He had her full, undivided attention now. Jane narrowed her eyes. “You.”

Not exactly an exclamation of delight, what with her practically spitting the word. On to step two: shamelessly charming. He tilted his head and offered a slightly confused, slightly hurt look. “Did I do something to offend you?”

She did not seem impressed. “A single woman cannot accept such a pretentious gift from a bachelor. It simply isn’t proper.” She turned and stalked around to the other side of the worktable, putting a barrier between them in more ways than one.

“That’s why I sent it
anonymously
. I figured you could pass it off as an offering for the business.” He dropped his forearms to the tabletop and leaned in slightly, lowering his position so he was at eye level with her. “Did you not like the basket? I personally chose everything in it.” Cook must have thought him utterly insane as he sought her advice on what to add, but after the way Jane had treated his burn, and the moments they had shared, he wanted the gift to be perfect.

Her hands stilled over the small pile of neatly stacked towels she was fussing with as her eyes flitted up to meet his. They were brilliantly green today, with touches of brown around her pupils. They also seemed to be softening.

“Whether I liked it or not is not the point. You shouldn’t have sent it. Just as you shouldn’t be here now.”

Aha! She did like it.

“First of all, I’m already here, so we might as well carry on with the lesson. Leaving now or three hours from now matters not since no one knows I’m here. And second of all, oh yes, I should have sent the basket,” he said, offering his most sincere smile. “You have the patience of Job with us, especially with my ability to wound myself at every turn. You took such care in attending to my burn, and it is healing beautifully thanks to you. If you don’t accept the basket, I’ll have to find some other means of showing our appreciation. How are you on smoked fish? Surely no one could look upon smoked fish as inappropriate.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though she tried to stifle it.
Victory
. “I believe I am set for fish, my lord. And you would be surprised what people can find inappropriateness in.”

He nodded seriously, as if she had made a very compelling point. He could certainly find something naughty in most situations. “Bucket of coal?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

He snapped his fingers. “I have it. Indentured servant. I can do your most vile chores until such time as my debt is repaid.”

A genuine smile crinkled the corners of her almond-shaped eyes. “Now, that I would like to see. The lofty Lord Raleigh on his knees, scrubbing floors.” Her laugh was as light as morning mist, but it pleased him to no end.

“If it is your wish, then I’ll happily oblige. Merely point me in the direction of the pail and, er, whatever it is one scrubs floors with.”

She shook her head and regarded him with lingering humor lighting her eyes. She was beautiful. “You really shouldn’t have sent the basket, but if I am completely honest, I am rather glad you did. I have been experimenting all week.”

“Have you? Made anything especially scrumptious? In honor of yours truly, perhaps?” He was teasing, but the way her eyes flew up to meet his told him he had hit something. A slow, knowing grin grew on his lips. “You have, haven’t you?”

She blushed a pretty shade of pink that reminded him of the first hints of sunrise and pushed away from the table.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand to keep her from fleeing. They both froze at the contact. Her hand, warm and soft and small, fit perfectly within his. He swallowed and lifted his eyes to hers. “Don’t go. I was only teasing you.” He brushed his thumb lightly along the top of her hand.

She pulled away slowly, allowing their skin to slide together. “I’ll only be gone a moment. You really can’t stay since no one else is here, but I have something for you to take with you.”

She turned and headed for the larder, disappearing inside. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. What was it about her that was so damn tempting? He put his elbow on the counter and rested his chin in his palm. Here they were, alone for the first time without the threat of anyone happening upon them. When would he ever have another opportunity such as this? He could accept her wishes and leave like a proper gentleman . . .

But what was the fun in that?

Chapter Fifteen

Jane lifted the pie from its box in the larder, feeling strangely breathless. Her hand still tingled from Richard’s touch, and the sensation seemed to be spreading. Three minutes in his presence and all of her defenses were crumbling to dust. The scary thing was, she couldn’t seem to mind. She knew she should heed her mother’s advice—and her own common sense, for that matter—and kick him out immediately, but something deep within her protested the thought.

Was it horrible that she wasn’t entirely sorry for Mr. Clifford’s presence in the alley?

Yes, it was. But the thought of Richard standing in her kitchen, without another soul in the building, was undeniably exciting. He seemed to fill the room in a different way from when his sister was by his side, as if the bowls and spices and furniture all ceded their space in deference to him. That, combined with his teasing words and sincere smiles, made it hard to remember why she had been upset with him in the first place.

Of course, when he looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes, she had a hard time even remembering her own name.

The luscious lemony smell enveloped her, and she breathed deeply as she lifted the pie to her nose.
Almost
as good as the earl himself. Perhaps she would name it Essence of Earl. She smiled to herself; perhaps not. Lunatic’s Delight? Now, that had a nice ring to it.

Tucking the pie plate in the crook of her elbow, she stepped out of the larder and closed the door. Richard watched her as she approached him. Leaning back with his elbows resting on her worktable, he seemed completely at ease.

“Why don’t you take this home with you. It seemed like something you might like.”

He straightened and nodded toward the pie. “Is this one of your new, experimental recipes?”

She smiled, thinking of all the delicious things she had made that week. “It is. Let me just wrap it up for you.”

“You offer up the most glorious pie I have ever seen, and expect me to wait until I’ve made it home to have a bite? You can’t be that cruel.”

She hesitated, at once wanting him from her kitchen—to be rid of the danger his being there presented—and wishing she could relax and have the bit of fun Emerson had teased her about. Perhaps allowing Richard to have a quick slice wouldn’t be so horrible, since he was already here. She was rather curious to see what he would think of it, after all.

He took advantage of her indecision, stepping forward and taking the tin from her. “You must let me see if it is even half as good as it smells.”

Sighing as if doing so were a chore, she relented. “I suppose if you insist, my lord—”

“Richard,” he cut in, his grin completely unrepentant. “And I do.”

“Richard,” she repeated, inwardly savoring the name on her lips. “Very well; let me just get a plate and silverware.”

“Excellent. And I insist you join me. A man cannot eat pie alone. I’m certain there is a law somewhere saying as much.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“No, no, as a future lord of parliament, I feel certain there is. And if there isn’t, I shall propose one first thing.”

She shook her head and sighed. “You’re not leaving until you’re good and ready, are you?”

He flashed those beautiful white teeth at her as he settled onto one of the stools. “Probably not. But have no fear, I assure you there is nothing to worry about—no one will ever know I was here.”

Nothing to worry about? She almost snorted. Nothing except for the fact she was alone with the man who seemed to possess the not inconsiderable talent of addling her brain whenever he was near. The same man who was now sending her gifts and looking at her as if he would just as soon taste
her
as her pie. She shivered. How unlike her to even think such a thing.

She fetched a knife and two forks from the silver case, and carefully withdrew two of her mother’s periwinkle adorned plates. Outside of family, she had never served a man in her kitchen before. For some unfathomable reason, it felt . . . nice to have him here, not as a student, but simply as a guest. She smiled as she cut a slice of the pie and set it on one of the plates in front of him.