“Just where does one start, old boy?” Sir Aubrey Preston inquired with a laugh.
That remark broke the silence, and the various offerings were soon tried. The tipsy cake disappeared completely, being a favorite of nearly every gentleman present.
At last the meal concluded and Jonathan waited with an expectant air. He had won the bet! No one could deny that he had served a superb meal that appealed to the gentlemen. Hearty fare, well-presented, and plenty of excellent wine with each course.
“I wish I could lure your chef away, but I suppose you’d not part with him?” Sir Aubrey inquired in the lazy voice of one who is happily replete.
Jonathan lowered his gaze to the table, concealing his inner mirth at that request. His chef’? The lovely blond who now graced his kitchen? How could he get around her identity? He wouldn’t put it past someone to demand the chef appear so he might receive their praise. “Never,” Jonathan finally answered, hoping he would have to say no more on that score.
Collison pushed back his chair, rising to toast his host. “I thought I had you at a loss, old friend. I see I vastly underestimated you. Here’s to the host of the hour. You have won fair and square.” After tossing off his wine, he reached in his pocket to extract the sum of money he’d not thought to pay. It hurt a bit, but he always paid his debts, and Harford had won with a splendid meal. He just wished he knew where he had managed to find that chef. He could have sworn there was not a one to be found in the entire city.
“It was nasty of you to abscond with Rene just when I needed him. However, the replacement I found more than surpassed him.” Jonathan repressed a chuckle. If they only knew in how many ways she surpassed the dour Frenchman. The man might have been an excellent chef, but he had a face that could stop a clock.
Conversation turned to other topics and the men sat for perhaps an hour over their port, chatting away about everything and anything of interest to men of the city.
* * * *
In the kitchen, Penelope took off her apron, tossing it aside with the numerous cloths to be laundered.
Mrs. Barker shook her head, nudging Penelope to a chair. “Now, my lady, you just rest. We’re used to cleaning up after a dinner. That Frenchie never lifted a finger once the cooking was done. The girls are good at their work, and we’ll have the kitchen to order in no time."
Penelope believed her. She had admired the efficient way Mrs. Barker had handled the returning plates, scraping them clean, then immersing them in hot soapy water before rinsing them to place on the drying rack. The kitchen maid scurried about, helping with this and that, smoothing the path for food going out and dishes coming back. It had been a well-ordered drill.
“I can see that. I expect I could leave now, but I intend to have a word with Lord Harford before I go.”
“Gracious, ma’am! That might be hours, if they get to playing at cards an’ the like.”
“I shall wait,” Penelope declared, brooking no argument. Miss Nilsson nodded her agreement, for she knew quite well what Penelope was about. “We shall wait in your parlor, if we may, Mrs. Barker?”
Overwhelmed that a fine lady—even if she did know how to cook—would be seated in her parlor, Mrs. Barker ushered the ladies into her neat room, then left to supervise the cleaning up.
Hours later a flushed and triumphant Lord Harford entered the kitchen to seek his cousin. Upon being told where she was, he hurried to the cook’s parlor. There he found Penelope curled up on Cook’s comfortable armchair—asleep.
She stirred, then opened her eyes to stare up at him, her long lashes fluttering until she became fully awake. “You won,” she stated.
“We won, my dear.” He pulled her from the chair and gave her a hearty kiss, before it sank in on his fuzzy brain that she was a lady as well as his cousin, and deserved to be treated with greater respect. But he had quite enjoyed that kiss. With a bit of tutoring it could meet all his expectations.
Flustered but determined, in spite of that exuberant kiss, Penelope stood her ground. “Then, when do we begin, my lord?”
Chapter 4
Not one to put off the inevitable, Lord Harford gave Lady Penelope a lopsided smile and bowed. “Tomorrow, or ought I say today? I shall present myself at our cousin’s house at your earliest convenience, my dear third cousin, once removed.”
Miss Nilsson rose from her quiet corner. “That had best be after noon. Shall we say one of the clock, my lord?”
Suddenly remembering that the Swedish lady was present and much the chaperon, Lord Harford nodded his agreement, then offered his arm to Penelope. “I am much indebted to you, Cousin.”
She gave him an amused, albeit tired, smile. “Just do not forget, if you please.”
As he escorted them to the carriage he had ordered, Lord Harford very much doubted that he would be allowed such liberty.
* * * *
In spite of the lateness of the previous evening, Jonathan awoke early, taking himself off for a morning ride in the park to rid his brain of lingering cobwebs. He did not get very far before he was stopped by one of those present at his dinner of last evening.
“Dashed fine meal, Harford,” declared Sir Aubrey Preston once again. “Don’t suppose you’d care to part with the name of your new chef, or better yet, where you managed to find such a wonder at the last minute?”
“You have the
