Free A Dangerous Madness by Michelle Diener Page B

more a second father to her than an employee, was likely one of the best chefs in the world.
    James murmured a greeting, and wondered if the Prince Regent knew the man existed. He would try to hire him away from Giselle Barrington, if he did.
    The Prince Regent had boastfully announced he intended to hire Georges Bisset over six months ago, and James had stepped in and stolen him out from under the prince’s nose, making Georges a better offer, as part of a bet; one smoky, half-lit, drunken night over a gaming table when he’d been in character a little too well.
    He had often been a little too well in character, towards the end.
    Hiring Georges had been, he realized now, the turning point for him. When Georges had taken up his position, something about the force of the man’s personality, his complete disregard for James’s status when discussing matters to do with the kitchen, had been like a curtain pulled back to let the sunlight into a gloomy room.
    There had been something in his demand that James be on time for meals, and present to actually eat them, that had held the warm comfort of coming home.
    “ Énchanté .” Pierre Durand gave a formal little bow. The Frenchman’s eyes were bright and sharp, and his dark hair was streaked with silver. “You are the one who Georges was able to go to for help when my Gigi needed it.”
    James thought back to the way Georges had tracked him down at The Scarlet Rose and pulled him out of a game of Twenty-one to help Miss Barrington a few months ago, and how close they had all come, Aldridge, Dervish and himself, to failure. His eyes lifted to Miss Barrington’s neck, but the place where she had been cut was only a thin pink line now. “My part in it was very small.”
    “Bah, we are all heroes.” Georges gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now we try my brioche.” The scent of lemon intensified as Georges lifted a small basket and flicked back the cloth covers.
    “Lemon rind in the dough?” Pierre asked him. “But surely that is not all?”
    “Lemon rind in the dough, and crème au citron in the center,” Georges said with a wide grin. “Truly, though I say it myself, délicieuse !”
    The door to the kitchen opened, and Harding came in, a frown on his face at finding James in a place he had never been before. “Lord Dervish is here, Your Grace.”
    James wasn’t sure what was more horrifying to his butler. The fact that James was in the kitchen, or that for the second time in a few days, Lord Dervish had arrived at an inconvenient time.
    “I have to speak with him urgently, I’m afraid.” James gave a regretful nod to the brioche. “Perhaps I can try your masterpiece at breakfast? I’ll invite Dervish to join me.”
    Georges clapped his hands, loud enough to silence everyone in what had been a gently humming kitchen. “We ’ave a guest. Everyone, to work.”
    James grinned, and caught Miss Barrington doing the same, because clearly, everyone had been hard at work before. Although, as he said his goodbyes and left, he noticed the pitch had risen.
    He realized with surprise as he pushed the kitchen door open and stepped into the hallway that he was still smiling. And had no inclination to stop.

Chapter Fourteen

    “I wasn’t caging breakfast, arriving so early.” Dervish sat down at the table and eyed the dishes that had started coming in from the kitchen.
    “Georges is thrilled to have more than one person to make breakfast for. And you’ve arrived on the morning he’s trying out his new brioche.”
    Dervish looked up. “I wouldn’t have thought you that aware of what goes on in your kitchens, Wittaker.”
    James quirked a smile. “I’m not, usually.” He took a sip of coffee. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I’ve made some headway.”
    Dervish shook his head. “I got your note. But I’m afraid I wouldn’t have come at this hour except that I have some news for you.”
    James lifted his brows.
    “Lord Sheldrake is dead. I saw the