Dangerous Masquerade (Regency Masquerade)

He glanced over at the kitchen table. Gesturing at the teapot, he asked, “You were going to make tea?”

Ria nodded, adding, “And toast.” Then, very reluctantly, she admitted, “But I’ve never made toast before. My maid is upstairs, ill in bed. I’m going to take it up to her.”

Although he looked surprised, he said nothing about the mistress waiting on the maid. Instead he merely regarded her for a moment longer, then smiled, the action lightening his somewhat severe countenance. “That’s all right. I do. My name is Alex Courtney, by the way.”

“Ria St. James.”

She watched attentively as Alex picked up the pot of water on the kitchen table, walked back to the hearth, plac

ed the handle over a hook, and swung it over the range’s central open fire.

He turned back to her and asked, “Do you have any stale bread, a couple of days old?”

“Mary said there was some in there.” She gestured to the pantry. “But I believe it is only a day old. It’s all there is, so it will have to do.”

Alex looked at her, raising one eyebrow.

Puzzled, she looked back, then realized he expected her to get it. As she walked toward the pantry Alex called after her, “Get some butter too.”

Bringing them back, she put the food on the table.

Alex handed her a knife and instructed, “Cut a few slices about a quarter of an inch thick.”

Ria grasped the knife in one hand and the bread in another. As she began to cut into the bread, it flattened until it resembled a sponge. Releasing the pressure a bit, she tried to cut straight slices but one half of the first slice was too thick and the other so thin it looked like torn tissue paper. The second was slightly better, but the bottom half of the third was straggly and jagged. By the time she had finished though, a few of the slices were decent enough.

Watching her, Alex said, “Some people cut off the crusts, but I think that’s wasteful.” Gesturing to the ragged edges, he added, “Though you might want to trim up those bits because they’ll burn.”

She was grateful he said nothing about the thickness of the slices or her ineptness.

“Put a slice on the toasting fork and hold it before the fire. Move it back and forth until it’s the color you want, then turn it over and do the other side.”

She did as he instructed, trying not to let the slices burn.

Turning from the fire, toast piled on a metal plate, she saw Alex had prepared the tea and a tray for Mary.

He took the toast from her. Without saying a word he trimmed off the black bits, placed a small piece of hard butter on each slice, and then took them back so they were near the fire. Just as the butter began to melt, he returned them to the table and spread butter over each slice.

She picked out the best two slices and put them on the tray next to the tea already there.

Alex, after a quick look at Ria, asked, “Do you want me to carry that up?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Firmly grasping the edges of the tray, she picked it up. Ria held her breath as she very carefully walked to the door and up the narrow staircase. It was quite difficult to carry the tray up the stairs wearing skirts, all the while not spilling the tea, but to her relief she managed it without incident.

Thankfully she had left the door to Mary’s room open. With a smile on her face, she walked in. “Here you are. It wasn’t a problem at all. I hope you enjoy it.”

From the bed, Mary gave a wan smile. “Thank you, madam. This is very kind of you.”

Going back downstairs, she saw her uninvited guest had helped himself to some cheese. He looked up as she walked into the kitchen. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Sitting down, she picked up a slice of toast. She eyed it critically. It was uneven both in size and color, but not obviously so. She took a bite. The unevenness had no effect on the taste of the slice of crunchy toast moistened by slightly salty butter. In fact, she could not remember when she had enjoyed toast more.

Of course there was the matter of what to do about dinner. As she finished her breakfast, Ria eyed the youth opposite her. Deciding it was best to be direct, she asked him, “Mary is not well at all. Could you show me how to make something simple for dinner?”

After swallowing a final mouthful of cheese he said, “I’ll show you how to make a ragout if you like. I noticed you have all the ingredients in the pantry for it. But you don’t have much bread left, so if she’s not better tomorrow I’ll help you make some.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I have one more favor to ask.”