Free Love's Tangle by Isabelle Goddard Page B

shake off the idea that some of it had meaning. The duke hadn’t been in the tent; hadn’t heard the change in the woman’s voice from platitude to urgency; hadn’t seen her frighteningly blank face when she’d dropped into a trance. And afterwards he’d done little to make her feel more comfortable—in fact he’d made things worse. Why accost her and then pin flowers to her breast? She had them still, brightening the small room she shared with Tilly. Last night the kitchen maid had teased her to distraction, mocking her for her unknown admirer. What would she say if she knew the flowers had come from the Duke of Allingham himself?
    But it was fantasy to imagine his actions were anything more than a whim. She was in danger of drifting, beguiled by the beauty of Allingham and beguiled by its owner—the moments when they’d met and talked, the times when they’d crossed swords, the walk she had taken with him, the flowers she would keep pressed in her private notebook. She hadn’t felt so alive for years but she must not allow herself to sit out the summer in a dream. She must take action and soon.
    She found Martha already at work. The woman looked up briefly and gave a grunt. “Get ter work on the cream, Nell. It needs be ready by ten.”
    “Ten! But Chef…”
    “Nuthin’ to do with Chef. The nobs is on a picnic and leavin’ round eleven.”
    Elinor’s ears pricked, wondering if this might be her chance. “Do you know where they intend to picnic?”
    Her mentor was evidently ruffled at having her schedule torn to pieces and her tone was truculent. “All I knows is the carridge takin’ the food leaves at ten and there’ll be ’ell to pay if we ain’t ready fer it.”
    Elinor thought better of prolonging the conversation and set to work as fast as she could. By five minutes to the hour they had filled sufficient boxes with butter, cream and cheese.
    “Yer best get it to the ’ouse, I’ll clean up ’ere. Leastways they’ll be gorn all day, if we’re lucky,” the older woman muttered testily.
    This was sounding promising. If the company rode out and the duke rode with them, it might at last provide the opportunity to search Gabriel’s study undisturbed. She resolved to take the chance. It was likely to be the only one she would get.
    She delivered their handiwork on the stroke of ten and stood idling for a while in the kitchen. Her fellow servants were in high spirits and ready to talk, knowing they would be free of ringing bells for at least four hours. Only two ladies were staying behind and they had ordered refreshments to be taken to the small front parlor. They were on their way there now, armed with copies of La Belle Assemblée . Tea and chatter would keep them company. The parlor was situated at the very end of one of the building’s wings and therefore as distant from the study as Elinor could hope.
    ****
    It was well before noon when she heard the crunch of horses on gravel as a large body of riders made its way to the main gate. She had been scrubbing the ironwork tables and chairs on the small terrace outside the dairy and listened intently as the sound of hooves gradually faded. She forced herself to wait for several minutes before stepping inside, her pulse beginning to tumble at the thought of what she was about to do. “Martha, I forgot to mention that while I was at the house, Chef asked me to deliver the rest of the cream earlier today.”
    Martha looked nonplussed. “But ’e don’t like it till near dinner time. Else it goes orf.”
    “He surprised me too,” she lied glibly, “but he was quite adamant. I believe he is trying out a new kind of dessert and the cream has to be mixed in at an early stage.”
    The older woman shrugged her bony shoulders irritably. “If yer must go, but don’t be long.”
    Elinor snatched up the two containers they had recently filled and almost ran out of the dairy. She had no idea what Chef would say when presented with cream far in advance