Chapter Three #2
Their dear, aging butler grew worse every day, but none of them had the heart to force him to leave his post. Instead, Chance had hired Mr. Fipps as a junior butler to help keep Walters focused.
At first, the elder butler had sulked and fought the new young gentleman.
But finally, he’d grudgingly accepted Fipps’s guidance and help.
“Fipps is never far, and the man has the hearing of an owl,” Merry said. “Or so says Mrs. Flackney.”
The rattle of a tea cart on the flagstones attested to Merry’s words. Fipps was pushing it with Walters ambling along behind it, following the junior butler like a devoted old hound.
“Tea and chocolate, Lady Felicity?” Fipps asked.
“Of course she wants tea and chocolate,” Walters growled in his gravelly voice. “She always does. Lady Felicity loves her tea and chocolate first thing each morning. Just pour it, man, or get out of my way, and I shall do it.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Walters,” Fipps said. “You are quite right.” He took a step back, his expression stoic, but kindness and compassion shone in his eyes.
For once, Felicity was proud of her brother for his caring nature regarding Walters, and for his determination in finding the perfect helper in Mr. Fipps.
Walters might be slipping with age, but he had served them forever and deserved every bit of dignity that could be offered.
He poured the tea and chocolate, spilling only a little because of the constant tremor in his arthritis-torn hands.
“Thank you, Walters. Thank you, Fipps. That will be all.” Felicity smiled at them both and gave Fipps a nod of appreciation.
“Chance found the perfect helper in Fipps,” Merry said as soon as the men were well out of hearing distance. “Good on him.”
“He did indeed, and I am not surprised.” Felicity took a sip of the rich, decadent chocolate and almost purred. “For once, I am proud of our brother for his diligence and over-attention to detail. He interviewed quite a few before settling on Fipps.”
“Well, he owes Walters his life. Remember the time Walters pulled him from the pond when Chance’s legs cramped so badly he couldn’t make it back to shallow water? Walters didn’t hesitate to jump in and save him.”
Felicity nodded and dipped a corner of her toast into her coddled egg, swirling it in the liquid gold of the yolk. “I remember we all were sent to the nursery without our supper because we threw Chance’s favorite wooden sword in that pond, and that is what he was after.”
“And we were advised never to try to kill our brother again because he was to be the next duke.” Merry giggled as she cut into a kipper. “We weren’t trying to kill him—merely disarm him.”
Felicity laughed. “I think that is why Mama and Papa were so angry not only with us but also with Chance, because he had other swords he could have retrieved from the playroom.”
Merry nodded. “Seems like I do remember Chance receiving hugs and lectures about finding a bit of good sense and using his head for something other than a hat rack.”
“I miss those days.”
“So do I.” Merry sighed, finished her kipper, then dipped a strip of toast into her egg cup. “So, are you going to stay out of the kitchens long enough to meet this new Earl of Wakefield?”
“I already met him.” Felicity pushed her plate away and poured herself another cup of chocolate. This conversation required it.
Merry stared at her for a long moment. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen?”
“He arrived late to the party, thereby missing dinner, and the vicar and Lady Urnstall had already emptied the refreshment table.” Felicity shrugged, but it was more of a shiver brought on by the memory of the handsome earl.
“You are blushing clear to your toes,” Merry said. She refilled her tea, then leaned forward with the cup balanced between her hands. “Tell me every bit. Every word. Leave nothing out. What does he look like? How does he act? Did you like him, or is he a groveling fool?”
“He is very handsome.”
“How handsome?”
“The broadest shoulders. My goodness, he filled the doorway when he entered the kitchen. Dark hair. The kindest eyes. And a crooked little smile that says he knows he is handsome, but he is not haughty at all.”
“Did you speak to him?” Elbows on the table, Merry leaned even closer, her tea still held in midair.
“Of course I spoke to him. As a matter of fact, I fed him. Coddled eggs and soldiers. He thought them so divine that he recited a poem about them.”
“A poem?” Merry arched a brow.
“‘Ode to the Fair Maiden’s Coddled Eggs,’ by an Importunate Breakfast Admirer.”
“You liked him.” Merry grinned. “You liked him a great deal. Should we stay home today in case he comes calling?”
Felicity bit her lip and set her chocolate down. “He only knows me as Miss Felicity, the kitchen maid.”
Merry stared at her again, sitting so still that she appeared frozen. “What?”
“He asked me my name, and I said, ‘Felicity.’”
“Conveniently leaving off the lady part?” Merry surmised.
“Yes.”
“And he did not think it unusual for a kitchen maid to be wearing such a fine silk gown?”
“It was covered by the apron I made. Unless he had happened to look at my feet, he never would have seen any part of the gown. The apron goes down to my shins because Serendipity became so infuriated when I ruined a gown with a wine sauce the week before last.”
Merry leaned back in her chair and thoughtfully sipped her tea, all the while eyeing Felicity with a plotting look. “So, he has no idea you are the sister of a duke with a fine, plump dowry. How did he treat you as a penniless maid?”
“He was very nice.” Felicity couldn’t help but sigh.
Lord Wakefield had impressed her greatly.
“You remember how the heroes in Fortuity’s books are always written to have those rich, deep voices that feel like a gentle caress?
And he was so easy to talk with. It was as though I had known him forever. ”
“Oh, my sister. I do believe you are smitten.” Merry straightened and fluttered a hand over the contents of the breakfast table.
“Finish your breakfast so we can get to the village. Perhaps we shall see him on the green. The village council did its best to mimic Hyde Park and Rotten Row. Perhaps he chose this lovely day to promenade. Instead of the shops, shall we promenade?”
“I prefer the shops to the promenade. We shall save that for another day.” The discussion had awakened the herd of fluttering butterflies that had taken up residence in Felicity’s middle ever since meeting the earl.
The breakfast she had eaten did nothing to slow the furious beating of their wings.
How would the earl act when he discovered her true identity?
Would last night become a precious dream never to be repeated because he would seek out her dowry rather than her?
She placed her napkin on the table. “After this discussion, I am well and truly finished with breakfast. Knowing Seri, she probably already had one of the maids fetch our gloves, bonnets, and parasols so we would have no excuse to leave them behind.”
“I am sure they are waiting on the table beside the door.” Merry placed her napkin beside her plate and hopped up from her seat, waving for Felicity to follow. “Come along now. I am eager to meet your earl.”
“He is not my earl, and we might not even see him.” Felicity took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself.
The earl was probably riding. Or hunting.
Or whatever it was men did to amuse themselves when not attending parties.
They probably wouldn’t see him at all. Then her heart got into the inner dialogue, whispering oh so softly, I hope we see him.
She hurried along after her sister, both excited and filled with dread.
Without the protection of her safe space, her kitchens, and the company of the cooks and the scullery maids, she struggled with making conversation with gentlemen.
She tugged on her gloves, pulled on her bonnet that matched the delicate blue of her spencer and her muslin gown, looped the ribbons of her reticule over her wrist, and retrieved her parasol that the maid had propped against the entry hall table.
“I am ready,” she said, not feeling ready at all.
With a bounce in her step, Merry led the way out the door and down the front steps. “Seri will be beside herself when she discovers you have already met the earl.”
“You mustn’t tell!” Felicity hurried to catch up with her sister. “And do slow yourself. This is not a race. Do you wish to arrive red-faced and glistening with sweat?”
After an apologetic nod, Merry slowed. “Do not be fractious. You know I would never tell Seri anything you did not wish told.” She made a dramatic bow while walking and almost tripped over her hemline. Giggling at her own clumsiness, she added, “I am honored you chose to tell me.”
“Parasols up,” Felicity said. “There is Lady Urnstall, coming to visit Seri. She will surely tell her she saw us.”
Merry hurried to open her parasol and prop it on her shoulder. “There. She should report us as bonnets on, gloves on, and parasols at the ready. I hope Cook has extra biscuits made, or there will be none left for us at tea.”
“Lady Urnstall does enjoy eating, but she is rail thin. How does she do it?”
“Perhaps she has a worm.”
“Merry!”
She shrugged. “Well, either that or consumption. The woman is little more than an assemblage of walking bones. More folks than we have noticed her appetite and the direct contrast of the sharpness of her features.”
“Let us change the subject.” Felicity noticed she was clenching her jaws so hard that they ached. I must relax and calm down. We probably won’t even see him. She eased in a deep, calming breath and allowed it to drift back out. “It is a lovely day.”
“A perfect day for a promenade,” Merry said with unmistakable slyness.
“Shops first.”
“You are no fun.”