Corey McFadden (10 page)

While Sir Giles was serving himself the fish, Joanna had a moment of near panic as she worried whether she should insult Sir Giles by not waiting for him or insult Lady Eleanor by refusing to follow her lead. It
was useless. She could not remember ever having been taught such a tedious social detail. Wonderful! The governess, who was supposed to teach the children everything there was to know about manners, was about to commit an atrocious dining
faux pas
, within the first two minutes of sitting down to table! Maybe she should just resign the post now and save herself having to eat the green stuff.

With a start, she realized that Sir Giles had already picked up his fork and was cutting into his fish. Relieved, she, too, started on the fish. It was sublime. The dubious cream sauce was lightly flavored with tarragon, that much she could recognize, and the fish itself was fresh and moist.

The silence was broken only by the little clicks and clanks of the forks hitting the plates, but at least they were busy eating. Joanna was starving and concentrated on trying to stifle the impulse to shovel it in as fast as she could.

“How does it come that a delectable little morsel like you isn’t married, Miss Carpenter?” Lady Eleanor asked, her mouth full.

Joanna sighed inwardly. She had been asked more personal questions in this last week than she had ever been asked in her whole life! At least, everyone in Little Haver had known everyone else’s business, so questions had been unnecessary.

“I come from a very small town, Lady Eleanor. There really weren’t any eligible young men there, and I guess I just did not think much on the matter.” Joanna took a bite of the potatoes, hoping the subject was closed.

“Oh, surely there must have been some young swain straining to get at you, dear? No town is too small for that.”

Lady Eleanor was toying with her. The image of Ambrose arose in her mind, and Joanna gave a slight shudder. “It was a rather poor village, Lady Eleanor. And the only eligible swain, as you put it, was Squire’s son, and he was too old for me.” And too stupid. And too disgusting. Joanna took another bite of the potatoes and chewed with a vengeance.

“Ah, Giles. There, you see, we have uncovered the mystery. Search out this Squire’s son and I believe we will find a broken heart somewhere in the picture. Hers or his? Which will you wager on, dear brother?”

“Allow Miss Carpenter to eat unmolested, Eleanor, for God’s sake. It’s her business, not yours,” Giles said coldly. He looked up at Joanna as he spoke and gave her a slight smile.

“Watch out, Miss Carpenter. If you let Giles select the topic of conversation, we’ll be hearing about the Duke of Somebody or Other’s new plans for a canal to nowhere. Fascinating conversationalist, my brother.”

“Bridgewater,” said Joanna, wiping her mouth with the large linen square.

“I beg your pardon?” Eleanor looked confused.

“Bridgewater, Lady Eleanor,” Joanna continued, her voice mild. “The Duke of Bridgewater is building a canal from his coal pits in Worsley to Manchester. It took two acts of Parliament to authorize the work, and it’s considered very innovative. Quite revolutionary, in fact. If the canal is a success, it could quite change the costs and methods of transportation. It’s a very modern concept and very exciting. There’s been a good bit about it in the papers.” Joanna finished and looked back down at her plate, a flush creeping up her neck. She had not meant to go on like that, but the woman had annoyed her so about Ambrose and she seemed so ignorant about things that really mattered in the world. Joanna stole a glance at Sir Giles and was startled to find him smiling broadly at her.

“How utterly...stupefying, Miss Carpenter,” said Lady Eleanor, her voice brittle. “I see I am to be surrounded by the studious types. You and Giles may get along well together after all, if you enjoy his scientific pursuits. Why, his precious knighthood was conferred for just that sort of tedious detail, improving the drainage. The king thought he’d helped to eliminate typhus because of it. But for the life of me, I cannot see what is so wonderful about that. Poor people need to die of something, and the sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Why, that’s wonderful, Sir Giles,” Joanna said, deliberately ignoring Lady Eleanor’s ignoble sentiment. “I see you have actually found a way to put your mathematics to practical use.”

“The drainage improvements were only a small part of it, Miss Carpenter,” Giles replied. “A number of people were responsible for the improvements, paving and lighting, that sort of thing. But all these things together have improved overall health in cities and larger towns.”

“Well, you can bore each other to death if you want to,” said Eleanor, throwing down her napkin, “but I’ve had all I can bear to eat of this swill, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go roust out Hawton for a game of cards. Giles, I’ll leave you to the little bluestocking and you can talk about sewer drainage to your heart’s content.” Without so much as a nod in Joanna’s direction, Eleanor drained her wineglass and swept out of the room.

“Well done, Miss Carpenter,” said Giles as the door closed behind Eleanor. “I don’t know when I have so enjoyed my stepsister’s company. I would apologize for her rudeness, but I’ve the distinct impression that you can hold your own with her.”

“I am sure she is just tired from her traveling, Sir Giles,” Joanna remarked blandly. She couldn’t very well say that Lady Eleanor was without a doubt the nastiest woman she had ever met in her life. “And I’m sure our paths will scarcely cross,” she added. She looked back down at her plate. It was odd. She had been relieved when Lady Eleanor had left the room, but now she felt awkward. She took another bite of the fish, willing herself to think of something intelligent to say.

Giles, too, cast about for some pleasant topic, aware that the girl would not feel comfortable initiating a conversation. Drat it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d had a sociable meal with a lady. God only knew when he had last shared a table with Eleanor or any of her guests. His meals at Dufton were almost all taken at local pubs and inns with his foreman and crew, and polite conversation was never a problem.

“You have a good appetite, Miss Carpenter,” he finally ventured, then cursed himself as an expression of consternation crossed her face. “No, no, please,” he continued as she put down her fork. “I think it’s healthy to have a good appetite. Most of the ladies I know never eat anything...” he trailed off miserably. What on earth had possessed him to inflict himself on this nice young woman? He bent his head back to the fish. His shoulder hurt like the devil, and he wished he were back in Dufton on his third pint of ale with his foreman.

Joanna picked up her fork again, feeling like a perfect fool. Her voracious appetite had always made her father and Squire laugh about her ‘unladylike ways’. Anyway, by what rules of etiquette she could scare up out of her brain, it was her turn to say something now, embarrassed or not.

“I’m afraid I’ve never been very delicate in my portions, Sir Giles. Papa always said I’d wind up as big as a house....” She bit her lip in confusion. What a stupid thing to say! Oh, how she wished she were eating alone in the governess’s parlor.

“Well, I don’t know where it goes then, Miss Carpenter, because there is certainly not an ounce of fat on you...” he stopped suddenly. That did it. Now she’d think he was ogling her. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so awkward and uncomfortable.

He eyed the green dish with trepidation, wondering what on earth it was. It was the last thing left on his plate except for a bit of fish, although of course he could ring for the servants to offer them second helpings. What a lot of stupid bother this business of formal dining was, anyway. The servants were running about looking like little tin soldiers, even though he hadn’t ordered them to put on that ridiculous braided and bedecked livery that Eleanor set such store by. In fact, this whole meal was absurd, so stiff and fancy he could hardly enjoy the food. He made a mental note to himself to tell Mrs. Davies to dispense with these idiotic formalities whenever he was here, then reminded himself that he was rarely here at all. While he was at it, he’d consult with her on the menu as well. Oh, for a bowl of pub stew right now, he thought to himself morosely, as he stabbed his fork into the green pile on his plate.

“I think it’s because I walk a great deal, Sir Giles,” Joanna said gamely, her fork, poised over the green stuff. This conversation was a nightmare, and it was all her fault. All well-bred young ladies were expected to know how to lead a lively repartee around pleasant topics. How much she ate and how fat she got did not pass for tasteful table talk. Perhaps she should just move right on to the topic of her digestion and be done with it. She took a tentative bite of the green stuff.

“What is this stuff anyway?” Sir Giles exploded, setting down his fork and grabbing his wineglass, taking in the expensive wine in great gulps. Venturing a look at her over his glass, he noticed she was chewing with a rather desperate look in her eye. A big grin, one-sided to be sure, spread slowly over his face as he watched her efforts, then he started to laugh. Joanna grabbed her napkin and clapped it over her mouth.

“Don’t make me laugh, sir. I’ve got an absolute mouthful of the stuff,” she begged, her eyes watering over the tip of the napkin.

He went on laughing, a rich bellow that seemed to fill the room. “You should see your face right now, Miss Carpenter. Are you going to swallow it or not?”

In response, Joanna took a deep breath, then like a child with a mouth full of cod liver oil she gulped. “There,” she said primly, patting her mouth, then, meeting his eyes again, she burst out laughing. “I don’t know what it is,” she said, gasping. “I’ve never had anything like it in my life.”

He picked up his fork and poked at the malevolent mass on his plate. “It looks like a vegetable, I suppose. All mushed up,” he said, his tone dubious.

“And baked. I think it’s a soufflé. But I don’t know what kind,” she responded, poking at her own dish thoughtfully. “It’s got too much of something, or maybe not enough of something else. I don’t really know much about cooking,” she finished lamely. She looked up at him and caught the laughter still in his eyes. Odd, up close and when he wasn’t scowling at her, he was rather handsome, with his dark hair and dark brown eyes. And the scar didn’t seem so noticeable when his generous mouth was quirked in amusement as it was now.

“Perhaps some more fish will sate your prodigious appetite, Miss Carpenter. Shall we?” he asked, standing and taking his plate to the sideboard.

Joanna stood, relieved that he had not rung for the parade of tin soldiers. She helped herself to what she hoped were modest portions of the fish and potatoes.

“I am impressed with your knowledge about Bridgewater’s canal, Miss Carpenter,” Giles remarked, seating her again. “Not too many people have followed the matter this far north.”

Joanna colored at the unexpected praise. “In Little Haver, there is not so much to do, Sir Giles,” she replied. “One must read the papers for sheer entertainment.”

They ate in companionable silence. Joanna longed to help herself to a third helping but did not dare.

“May I tempt you with a sweet for dessert, Miss Carpenter?” Giles asked, setting down his fork. “That is, if we can be certain it’s edible,” he finished, frowning again at the unappetizing green mound congealed on his plate. “I don’t really know this cook and I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I don’t care to see this dish on my table ever again.” He picked up the wine bottle and poured more wine into each glass, then rang the small silver bell by his plate.

Immediately the door swung open and in marched the liveried small army. Both Joanna and Giles waved away the offer of third helpings, and couldn’t help stealing a glance at each other as Mick cleared the offending dish from the sideboard. Bessie wheeled in a small cart which contained a teapot, a coffee pot, and several rather spectacular-looking pastries. Smiling happily at the cart, Joanna was unaware that she had sighed in relief until she heard what sounded like a stifled snort from Sir Giles. Meeting his eyes again was a mistake. She had to grab her napkin and clap it over her mouth as if smothering a cough, while he stared at her, eyes dancing with mischief, willing her to laugh out loud.

“How could you?” she protested as soon as the door closed behind the servants. “A governess should maintain some semblance of dignity before the staff.”

“Sorry,” he replied smoothly. “But you were looking at the pastries with such adoration in your eyes. Now,” he said, turning his eye on the cart, “coffee or tea? You’ll have to pour, I’m afraid, because I’ll make a mess of it one-handed.” He realized with a start that he had barely thought about his shoulder since entering the room, nor had he felt more than a twinge. “I’ll take coffee, thank you,” he said as Joanna reached toward the pots and gave him a questioning glance. “And help yourself to three or four tarts. You can tuck one up in your napkin for later if you like.”

“Just one tart will do, thank you,” she answered, pouring them each a cup of the rich, steaming black coffee. “Anyway, I can come down and steal one if I get hungry in the middle of the night.”

“So much for the security of my larder,” he remarked, taking a sip. “I shall have to check with Mrs. Davies and see whether our food expenses go up measurably during your tenure with us.”

Joanna served them each a tart and they settled down to the comforting business of dessert. The sweet was absolutely delicious, she was relieved to find, with no unpleasant surprises.

“This makes up for the green thing, doesn’t it?” he asked between bites, and Joanna murmured her assent with mouth full.

“If you like walking, I should think you’d enjoy the countryside around here. It’s really quite beautiful,” he ventured, unwilling to let the camaraderie disappear with the soufflé.

“Indeed, yes. What little I’ve seen is just spectacular. I do hope to do a great deal of walking, and some painting as well.”

“Ah, yes, you paint,” he answered. “What sort of painting?”