Page 24 of His Unforgettable Bride
Juliet’s heart hammered with a new intensity. “Like how you’re aiding the patient in the sitting room, whether he’s your relative or not.”
“Somewhat like that, yes.”
No matter what, she’d always be a woman with a thieving past. But maybe she could hide the truth better if the sisters prettified her manners. “I’d be much obliged.”
“If all goes according to plan, we’ll proceed with the first class in a day or two.”
Since arriving in the household, all Juliet had done was make one error after another. Other than her grandfather, who had ever helped her without expecting something in return?
There had been her friend Molly, whom she’d first met at an orphanage. After the mill closed back home, everyone lost their jobs. Juliet had moved into the tiny apartment Molly shared with her husband. About the time her friend learned a baby was coming, her husband collected two bad habits—drinking too much and calling Juliet beautiful daily. It hadn’t taken long for Molly to ask Juliet to leave. The request hadn’t been unreasonable and had likely been for the best, but it still stung.
Juliet sighed. Of course, the women from the bride ship—Willow and Daisy—only wanted friendship from her. Sage too. Mrs. Moresby had kindly assisted her twice.
Perhaps there were others, but she couldn’t think of anyone. Now she could add Tabitha and Livy to the tally. But the offer was almost too good to be true. Wasn’t it?
Juliet reached for her cup and sampled the hot but not unbearable tea. It boggled her mind that blowing on something scorching was impolite. What else had she been doing wrong all these years? The list was likely long.
The back door’s latch rattled, and she turned toward the noise. A fanlight, with small stones and white marble, was built into the wall above the door. How fancy for a kitchen. The door opened, and Icala entered, whistling after running an errand for the sisters. “Doctor Pooley’s wife says he’s still out of town.”
After he shed his dark overcoat and hung it on a metal hook near the door, he turned toward the table. His black shirt and trousers matched his hair, pulled back from his face, revealing his broad forehead. Even his eye patch matched his appearance.
At least Juliet had the good sense not to ask why he wore it. But she’d sure love to know.
He moved toward the stove with long strides. “The good news is that Peaches circles the yard.”
Relief flooded Juliet. The bird’s return would hopefully erase one of her errors. “Maybe he’ll swoop back inside if we open the door.”
“We will do no such thing.” Tabitha rose from her spot and picked up the tea tray. “There’s a chill in the air. If Peaches chooses to reenter, she’ll have to dive in the same method she snuck out.”
As if that would happen. Juliet almost snorted. Was Tabitha trying to teach the bird a lesson? Were parakeets that smart?
After putting away the tea supplies, Tabitha excused herself to check on the patient. Icala gathered and chopped vegetables on the sideboard as Juliet continued her polishing.
The rhythm of the native’s knifetap, tap, tapped. Then he lifted the lid from a black pot and sniffed. The scent of last night’s squash soup wafted through the kitchen. It smelled delicious and had accompanied moose steak, carrots with turnips, baked apples, and mince pie for supper—the best food Juliet had ever tasted. The competition wasn’t even close for second place.
Juliet pressed a hand against her growling stomach. “How’d you learn to cook so good?”
“My father, a white man, owned a restaurant in Montreal. He taught me everything I know.”
“Your soup was delicious.”
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “I know and thank you.”
“How’d you come to work here?”
“My father knew the sisters’ father, and I worked for him first. Mr. Sherwood was a first-rate man, much like his daughters. Well, except they’re females.”
Juliet chuckled. His approval of the sisters confirmed what she pondered in her heart—she’d been given a fresh start with a good family, and she must not ruin things. At the Firths’ she never forgot her station. Here, she slept alone in a room fit for a queen and drank tea with her employer.
Juliet helped herself to another sip.
Holding the spoon, Icala turned around, dripping soup. The man was as messy as Tabitha was tidy. Good thing Juliet hadn’t cleaned the floor yet today. “I wonder if the patient is ready to eat something?”
Before Juliet could reply, Tabitha bustled into the kitchen, her skirts rustling. “I believe he is indeed. Juliet, please carry whatever Icala has prepared for the young man. Thankfully, he’s awake and alert.”
Finally, she could check on the fella’s welfare for herself.
With a tray of food, Juliet followed Tabitha, mindful not to spill. They entered the patient’s room and found him upright in the bed. Livy was sitting in the sugar-barrel chair shoved close beside him. Tabitha positioned herself in front of the fireplace, and Juliet delivered the tray to the table in the corner, shoving bandages aside.
