Chapter Eleven
I was never certain what happened to Mrs. Herbert. She was arrested, likely shut in to the same kind of cell I had been, her trial scheduled.
I walked away from Mrs. Watkins, her house, Sir Lionel’s, and all the rest of it. I visited my daughter again, holding her close until I could breathe once more.
I knew, though, that I’d never be free of it in my heart. I’d lived in a house where a man had been poisoned and died, and I’d condemned a woman to death for it. She’d go to the crowded cell in Newgate where I had waited in fear, only she would not be set free.
I’d met Daniel, half fallen in love with him and had been sorely deceived by him. After Grace’s father deserted me, I’d vowed I’d never let a man trick me again, and yet the first fine pair of eyes I saw, I was off. I badly needed to curb these tendencies.
My agency did at last find me a post a few weeks later, in a large house in Richmond. The lady of the house had heard of my cooking from my previous employer, Mrs. Pauling, and was happy to have me.
Richmond was a bit far from my daughter for my taste, but the pay was good, I had an ample number of days out, and it was only a short train ride to the heart of London. Perhaps I could bring Grace out to Richmond to visit me, and we could walk along the river and see the sights. She’d like that.
The house was a good place, with the kitchen run efficiently—even more so once I’d taken command.
One cold winter day, as I went over a list of what I needed to prepare supper, a gentleman walked, unannounced, into the kitchen.
This house had a large servants’ hall across the passage from the big kitchen, its own laundry rooms, housekeeper’s parlor, a butler’s pantry far larger than the closet-sized one at Sir Lionel’s, and a fairly cozy bedroom down the corridor for me. The corridor and rooms were always teeming with the servants needed to tend a large household.
The gentleman could only have entered the servants’ area by coming down the stairs that led to the main house, or in through the scullery door from outside. Either way, he’d have been noticed and politely questioned by the three strapping footman, the butler—who was a proper butler and not a wastrel like Copley—and the housekeeper, long before he reached the kitchen.
However, no one seemed to have stopped him, and the entire staff, when I looked around, was startlingly absent.
The gentleman was Daniel. He was dressed in what I would say were middle-class clothes—not so posh as the ones I’d seen him wear in Oxford Street, but not so scruffy as his work trousers and boots. His hair was tamed but not pomaded, a bit rumpled, but combed flat. He set a hat and pair of leather gloves on my kitchen table and rested one hip on the tabletop as though perfectly at home.
“It is good to see you, Kat.”
I waited a few heartbeats until I was certain my voice would not crack. “Good day, Mr. McAdam. How is James?”
“He is well. Working.” A wry look entered his eyes. “That is, when he’s not off doing what he bloody well pleases.”
“Ah.” I knew Daniel wanted me to smile, so I did not. “What brings you to Richmond?”
“Hope.” Daniel’s gaze fixed on me. “I want us to be friends again, Kat. Like before.”
“Oh, do you now?” I laid down the list of foodstuffs and clicked the pencil next to it. “Well, I’m certain you would feel much better if I agreed. If I forgive you, you will be much relieved.”
Daniel lost his forced, polite look. “Damn it, Kat.”
He came to me and pulled me around to face him, holding my arms with his hard hands. I felt the solid lip of the table behind me as I looked up into his angry face. Daniel’s eyes had a dangerous glint in them. I had no idea what he was about to do, but I lifted my chin.
“Threatening me will not help your cause,” I said crisply. “Remember, I’m a dab hand with a knife.”
Rage turned to frustrated amusement. Daniel cupped my face with a firm hand, leaned down, and kissed my mouth. “I could fall in love with you, Kat Holloway,” he said, his voice low.
My heart fluttered like a dove’s wings. However, I refused to let him know that I could fall stupidly in love with him in return.
“The lady in Oxford Street might be a bit put out,” I said. “Mr. McAdam dallying with a cook? Not the done thing.”
Daniel made an impatient noise. “The lady in Oxford Street is—was—an assignment. Like Sir Lionel. Both of those are finished.”
“Are they?” My heart beat thickly, and I could barely think. The kiss had been a rather fine one, Daniel stood close, and my coherence was running away. “You should be on to the next thing then.”
“I am. Unfortunately. But I had to ...” Daniel trailed off, his fingers on my face softening. “I wanted to make sure you were well, Kat.”
“I am,” I said, surprised my voice was so steady. “As you can see. This is a fine kitchen.”
“It is.” Daniel drew a breath, lowered his hand, and deliberately stepped away from me. “What is it you prepare tonight, Mrs. Holloway?”
I had to consult my list, because my menu had just gone clean out of my head. “Beef bourguignon. Sorrel soup, fish in white wine, and lemon tart to finish.”
“Ah, Kat, you make my mouth water.” Daniel kissed his fingers to me, slanting me his wicked look. “If I happen to be passing in my delivery wagon after supper, might I beg a scrap or two to sustain me?”
He wanted to transform back to the Daniel I knew best, did he? “What about this?” I asked, waving my hand at his suit. “This … banker’s clerk, or whatever you are? Where will he be?”
“Gone after this evening, I’m afraid.”
“I see. Will I ever, perchance, meet the real Daniel McAdam?”
Daniel lost his smile. “Perhaps one day. Yes, definitely one day, I’ll bare my soul to you, Kat. I promise.”
My voice went quiet. “Will I like what I see when you do?”
“I don’t know.” The words rang true. “But I believe I am willing to risk it.”
I had no idea what to say to that, or what I ought to do. Forgive him? Turn my back on him forever? Do neither, and go on with him as though nothing had happened?
One thing was certain—there was far more to Daniel than met the eye. I was curious enough, blast it, to want to learn everything I could about the man.
“In that case,” I said, taking up my pencil again. “If you are not too late, I might save back a bit of lemon tart for you.”
Daniel’s smile returned. “I would enjoy that very much.”
We shared a look. Daniel took up his hat and gloves, giving me a bow.
“You have more skills than cooking,” he said. “Perhaps you will help me on another hunt someday.”
I shivered. “Indeed no. Once was enough for me.”
“Was it?” Daniel carefully pulled on his gloves. “We’ll see. Good afternoon, Mrs. Holloway. I look forward to speaking with you again.”
And I, you, I wanted to say, but held my tongue. “Good afternoon, Mr. McAdam.”
He shot me a grin, came back to me, kissed me on the lips, and strode out, whistling.
End