Page 27 of Embracing the Earl (The St. Clairs 3)

Chapter Nine

Luke didn’t thinkCaroline would be busy an entire day at Catherine’s modiste. She didn’t seem very interested in her clothing, other than wishing to look presentable in order to fit in attonevents. He didn’t think it mattered what she wore. Caroline Andrews’ maturity and beauty would speak for itself.

At least with the gentlemen of theton. They would be attracted to her for her looks, first and foremost, but a good portion of them would also enjoy her wit and intelligence. He realized their opinions didn’t hold any water with Caroline because she needed the women of thetonto like her. They were the ones who would make up her clientele. Buy her books. Pay for a subscription to the lending library. Consume her tea and baked goods. And hopefully, buy merchandise from what was offered. That’s why this morning was important. Caroline needed a wardrobe to go into battle with the dragons of theton, one that would make her still seem humble but feel victorious.

In the meantime, while she gathered her armor of corsets and parasols and hats which would accompany her gowns, he could aid her in ways she would notice. His first stop would be Catarina’s. Though he’d hoped never to see his former lover again, this was too important. Luke would put aside his reservations and see if he could reason with the fiery courtesan.

He knocked at the door and saw the startled look on the butler’s face.

“Lord Mayfield. You... were not expected.”

“I know. May I come in?”

The butler couldn’t very well deny Luke entrance to the home he’d purchased and so he stepped aside.

“I’m here to speak with Mrs. Withers first,” he said. “I’ll see myself to the kitchen.”

As he hurried away, he wondered if the butler had the nerve to interrupt whatever Catarina was doing and tell his mistress that her former protector had returned uninvited.

He found Mrs. Withers rolling dough. She was covered in flour, wisps of graying hair peeking out from her cap.

“Lord Mayfield!” she exclaimed, her surprise evident. “I never thought we’d see the likes of you again.”

He pulled out a stool from under the table where she worked and seated himself. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Withers. How have you been?” he asked with a smile.

Her face softened. The St. Clair smile never failed to work. He’d also learned from Cor to treat all servants with respect, showing an interest in them and their lives. It had paid off in loyalty over the years.

“I’ve been well. My sister, though, lost her husband a week ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you close?”

“We are.”

“Is she a cook as you are?”

“She is. Don’t tell her I said so but she’s probably more skilled than me.”

“Where is she?”

“Here. In London. It’s not much of a challenge for her. The old earl she works for is all that’s left in the house and he can only gum his food. Bessie’s stuck preparing soft, bland foods. She’s bored silly.”

Things were definitely looking up.

“I’d come to offer you a position,” Luke confided, “but perhaps your sister would be better suited.”

Anger sparked in Mrs. Withers’ eyes. “Now, why would you being doing that, Lord Mayfield? I would love to come cook for you.”

“It’s not for me, actually.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Then I suppose it would be best if I stayed here.”

He let her feel sorry for herself a moment and then mused aloud, saying, “This opportunity could actually use two cooks, I suppose.”

Mrs. Withers perked up. “Really? For Bessieandme?”

“Yes. Let me tell you about it.”

He explained how he had a friend who wanted to combine the ideas of a bookstore and tearoom together, where customers could flow between the two establishments.

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