A Taste for Scandal (8 page)

Adopting her most placating tone, Jane said, “It was but a small misunderstanding, I assure you. I can’t imagine how anyone even noticed.” Unless they were spying through the windows of the tea shop, which she’d bet her mother’s remaining china had most certainly been the case.

“We don’t need you inviting riffraff into your shop, Miss Bunting. It doesn’t speak well for all of the good, upstanding men who run respectable businesses on this street.”

For heaven’s sake, she made it sound as though Jane ran a brothel rather than a bakery! Mrs. Brown had been a mildly unpleasant neighbor when Mama ran the business. The moment it was up to Jane, the woman had been all that was disapproving and judgmental. For some reason, she despised the fact that Jane, unmarried and unchaperoned, had the gall to think she could run a business. As if Jane had so many other choices.

“Yes, madam, I understand the importance of upholding the caliber of this street, as well as my own beloved shop.”

Mrs. Brown narrowed her eyes. “Do you, Miss Bunting? I have seen no evidence to support such a claim. Why, just look at the state of that cabinet. My sister’s husband would be very dismayed to discover the state of disrepair in his dwelling.”

Jane bit her tongue hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. Showing her upset would only give the woman power. “Unfortunately, the cabinet was damaged yesterday. I haven’t even had time to speak with anyone about having it fixed.”

“Well, I trust you’ll have more than enough time to have the repairs completed before my sister and her family return from their stay in Scotland next month.”

Clearly she
didn’t
trust—the statement was a threat if Jane had ever heard one. “Of course.” Never mind that she had no idea how she would pay for such repairs. She ignored the apprehension creeping up her spine. She’d figure out something—she always did. Come next month, she
would
have everything back to rights. “I assure you, maintaining my reputation as a conscientious proprietress and tenant is of the utmost importance to me.”

With a cunning gleam lighting her gaze, Mrs. Brown leaned forward. Jane held her breath. Judging by the smug expression narrowing the woman’s eyes, she was about to use her trump card. “Then why, I wonder, was a strange man seen leaving your rooms past dark last night? Was that ‘but a small misunderstanding’ as well?”

If she threw the woman out on her well-padded bum, Jane had no doubt Mr. Byrd would take issue. Still, it was dangerously tempting. She paused, reining in her temper. She had to remember her mother’s advice. Breathing deeply, she mentally recited the words her mother had written in one of her final letters.
Biting one’s tongue is a vastly underrated skill. A seemingly simple feat, yet few ever master it. Learn it, practice it, and benefit from it. One moment of caution could save years of regret.

There, that was better. At the very least she could speak without saying something she would regret. “Yes, my dear cousin, Mr. Webb, has only just returned from his years at sea in service to His Majesty’s Navy. Isn’t that wonderful? Do be sure to pop by when next you spy him so that I may introduce the two of you.”

Jane’s smile was really just a grinding of her teeth as she willed her neighbor to take her leave. Lack of proper rest was robbing her of the last of her patience.

A bit of the pleasure leaked from Mrs. Brown’s expression, and she backed up a step and brushed at her skirts. “Yes, well, see to it that no more bedraggled, wild-haired ruffians are seen leaving your shop.”

“If I see Lord Raleigh again, madam, I shall be sure to pass along your sentiments.”

She shouldn’t have said it. Honestly, though, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the glib statement. Jane watched with satisfaction as Mrs. Brown sputtered in shock, her eyes bulging in disbelief. Served her right for barging in, pointing her finger in Jane’s face and throwing around accusations.

“Lord Raleigh?
The
Lord Raleigh?” One would think Jane had said
flying wildebeest
, for all of her neighbor’s incredulity. “Gracious, child, what was a man of his ilk doing in a shop like this?”

A shop like this.
Really, Jane had endured just about enough of Mrs. Brown’s insults. She had too much on her plate as it was, worrying about getting the blasted cabinet repaired—especially after the loss of profits yesterday. And she certainly had no desire to hash the whole incident out once more. It was over, and she hoped never to think on it again.

Jane looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. “Oh, my goodness, I really must return to my baking. I left my poor brother in charge of it, and the batch will be a loss if I don’t get back to it soon.”

She came out from around the counter, herding Mrs. Brown toward the door. “Thank you for your concern, madam. I shall make every effort to run my business above reproach, as I have always strived to do.”

Drawing herself up as if she were a queen, her neighbor paused at the door and leveled her dark eyes at Jane. “One month, Miss Bunting. If things are not repaired by then, you won’t have to worry about losing a batch ever again, since you’ll no longer have a kitchen to bake in.”

It was the strongest pronouncement her neighbor had ever made. As much as Jane’s insides were quivering with anger, she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and nodded once. If she opened her mouth, there was no way she could keep herself from telling the woman exactly where she could go. She may despise the woman, but Jane had no choice but to try to appease her.

Finally, Mrs. Brown turned on her heel and strode from the shop, her nose leading the way. Jane wilted, her breath leaving her in one great whoosh. She hadn’t a clue how she would follow through with her promise, but at least she was free of that awful woman for the time being.

Before heading back to the kitchen to rescue Weston from the whisking, Jane returned to the counter to rearrange the pastries from a customer’s point of view. She needed a moment to collect herself, to get her heart rate back down to something below a gallop. The bell above the door chimed behind her, and she pressed her eyes closed and sighed.

Drat.
Had the old woman come back to browbeat Jane some more? Suppressing a groan, she replaced the glass dome over the pastries and said over her shoulder, “Forget something?”

“You could say that.”

Chapter Seven

Jane gasped at the unexpected male voice. Her heart in her throat, she whipped around to see none other than Lord Raleigh filling the doorway to the shop. Had she conjured him from thin air simply by saying his name to Mrs. Brown? A flash of awareness raced through her body and settled deep in her stomach.

Good gracious, but he was handsome.

All at once her brain caught up to her heart, and she promptly pushed away her silly reaction. What was wrong with her? Handsome or not, he was still most unwelcome. Had not Mrs. Brown’s visit been a direct result of his “heroics” yesterday? Because of him, she would probably be eating gruel for a month in order to pay for the damage.

Hadn’t she suffered enough? Must he come back to torture her more? It didn’t matter that he looked like a chiseled Greek statue come to life; the man had caused nothing but trouble for her. Their words from last night came rushing back, as did the indignity, hurt, and embarrassment from the whole experience. So many things she wished she had never said.

She crossed her arms protectively over her battered heart and sighed. “What do
you
want?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “A pleasure to see you as well.” He stepped into the shop and held the door as a young woman came in behind him. The girl looked quite charming in a simple but elegant white muslin gown topped by a light green spencer jacket. She wore a lovely green bonnet over a mass of blond curls, and regarded Jane with large dark blue eyes. If their resemblance was any indication, she must be related to the earl. Curiosity warred with surprise in the girl’s expression—not unwarranted, considering the greeting Jane and Lord Raleigh had exchanged.

Jane’s annoyance waned as she ignored His Highness and, after taking a calming breath and rallying her spirits, offered the young woman a smile. “Good morning, and welcome.”

The earl placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Miss Bunting, allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Beatrice Moore. This is her first Season, and she and I are on a shopping expedition. Beatrice, Miss Bunting was kind enough to bring by the biscuits yesterday.”

“Oh,” his sister said, looking to him with guileless eyes. “The chocolate biscuits? The ones that did not contain arsenic, as originally suspected?”

Jane blinked, caught off guard by the casual statement. Whatever humor the earl lacked, his sisters seemed to possess in abundance. A muscle in his cheek jumped as he glowered at the girl. “Yes, those are the biscuits in question.”

The anger from Mrs. Brown’s visit further ebbed, and Jane put her hand over her mouth to cover a startled smile. Anyone who could earn a glare from the earl must surely be a delightful soul. Lady Beatrice stepped forward and smiled. “I’m so glad you decided to leave the poison out . . . this time. He is my favorite brother, after all.”

“Truly? How many brothers do you have, Lady Beatrice?”

“Only the one.” The girl grinned at him over her shoulder. “But I confess, I am rather fond of him. He did, after all, allow me to have one of your biscuits. You’ve quite a talent, and I am very glad to meet you.”

Jane liked her more by the minute. The tenseness of her shoulders eased a little. “You are too kind. It is lovely to meet you as well. May I offer you a scone?” Jane gestured to the platter of pastries along the counter.

“Truly?” At Jane’s nod, Lady Beatrice stepped forward and inspected the various plates arranged on the counter. “Oh my goodness—they all look so delicious. Which do you recommend?”

Eyeing the platter, Lord Raleigh took a step toward the counter. Jane tried to ignore his hulking presence as he leaned closer to inspect the scones. Even surrounded by the sweet scents of the baked goods, she caught an inciting whiff of tangy citrus shaving soap.

Fighting the urge to take a deep breath, she gave her head a tiny shake and concentrated on answering Lady Beatrice’s question. “Hmm, I rather love the orange poppy seed, but the best seller is always the chocolate. Even with the extra cost, they are always the first to go. The honey walnut is very hearty, and is really a breakfast in itself.”

Jane hadn’t known it was possible to feel another’s gaze upon her skin until that very moment, when Lord Raleigh turned his attention to her. She tried valiantly to keep focused on his sister, but the very tips of her ears grew hot anyway.

“They all sound lovely, but I will try the orange poppy seed, as you suggest. It seems rather . . . exotic.” Lady Beatrice’s endearing grin was finally enough to break the spell Raleigh seemed to cast over Jane.

“Excellent choice.” Jane selected the plumpest one on the plate, wrapped it in quick, efficient movements, and handed it over to Lady Beatrice with a smile. “I do hope you like it. And you must come back to visit me again soon.”

Lady Beatrice cut a quick glance to Richard before replying, “I intend to, Miss Bunting. And thank you for the scone. I am certain it will be the best I’ve ever eaten.”

Jane grinned at the girl. How could such lovely sisters be related to such an arrogant oaf? Even now, he stood a little too close, as if he somehow knew that his presence seemed to addle her wits.

She started to step away, to put distance between them so she could regain her composure, when he caught her eye and nodded toward the platter. “I’ll take a honey walnut.”

And just like that Jane tensed all over again. She pressed her lips together. Of course he would. And he probably felt perfectly entitled to it. Wasn’t that always the way with the young men of the beau monde? Do whatever the devil they wanted without a single thought for those negatively affected by their actions? Well, she was nothing if not fair. She would be happy to let him have the thing.

For a price.

“Certainly. That will be five pounds.”

He blinked, then promptly barked with laughter. “Five pence, you mean.”

“No, five pounds.”

He tilted his head, watching her with a hint of lingering mirth as if trying to work a riddle. “Are the walnuts of the golden variety? Perhaps I should try the chocolate.”

“If you prefer. That will be five pounds two shillings.” There had been very little to be amused by the last two days, but it was almost worth everything she’d been through just to see the earl with his jaw slack and his eyes wide. Had anyone ever denied him anything in his entire life? Perversely, she rather hoped they hadn’t so that she could have the distinction of being the first.

His eyes narrowed slightly, the mirth falling away. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he seemed disappointed. “I see. A lord patronizes your establishment, and you immediately see an opportunity to lighten his pockets. You know, I had thought to come here to make peace with you, that perhaps I had been too quick to judgment, but I can see now that I am wasting my time. It is just as I originally suspected. Does your employer know you’re scamming the customers?”

“Actually, my lord,
you
visit
my
establishment—did I mention I am the proprietress of this bakery?—and I immediately see the echoes of the business and property I lost yesterday. Before I hand out any more free merchandise to you—with or without arsenic—I thought perhaps to recoup my losses.” She waved her arm to encompass the damage behind her.

Thick silence settled around the room in the wake of her outburst. This man was proving to be very bad for her composure it would seem. Still, she held her ground, her back straight and her chin lifted.

Instead of falling into a fit of pique as she half expected, Raleigh tilted his head and looked past her, investigating the cabinet along the wall. After a moment he nodded, slowly at first, as if unsure, then with more conviction. “I see your point, Miss Bunting. And I concede it. Very well,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a handful of coins. “As it happens, if the biscuits you brought me last night are any indication, the scone would be worth the money regardless.”