Page 18 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 6

Celia had spent the afternoon gazing out the window, reading, and napping. She was feeling loads better. The aches were all but gone, and her nose wasn’t as stuffy, yet exhaustion lingered. The past month’s stressful events had taken their toll, as they would for anyone.

Fiona had brought her volume 4 of The Encyclopedia of Cookery, by Theodore Garrett, published in 1891. The book certainly caught her interest. Six pages were devoted to the cucumber alone. Celia had no idea it could be prepared in different styles. All she ever had was cucumber salad or the occasional cucumber sandwich. It made for fascinating reading. The next topic? Curds. These books must belong to Liam. Did he have the entire set?

Where is Liam?

She had barely known the man for more than twenty-four hours and already desired to see him—and knew the reason why. Celia had been lonely for many years. After Carlton became seriously ill, they’d stopped venturing to London and all social activities ended. Living so far north almost meant months of isolation. Being plunked into the middle of a busy restaurant gave Celia an unquestionable thrill. There were actual people to converse with! And there was activity and life inside the restaurant and outside on the busy streets. Best of all, she had a handsome man bringing her meals. It was a dream come true. She couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for Liam, a feeling she hadn’t ever experienced before—not like this. A certain warmth enveloped her, making her feel alive and hopeful. She found herself being drawn to him, and not just for his kindness but for how he made her feel.

A knock sounded at the door.

Celia laid aside the book. “Come in.”

Liam stood on the threshold. Her bed was against the opposite wall, so she faced him. “How are you?” he asked.

Her heart sped up at the sight of him filling the doorway. He wasn’t wearing his winter coat, so she was able to get a good look at him. Those long legs went on forever. The material of his close-fitting trousers hugged his muscular thighs. Celia especially liked that his forearms were visible, as he had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. The top button was undone, showing a bit of dark hair on his chest. She had to bite back a moan as her insides fluttered with awareness. This physical reaction was not wise. But then, she’d never been in such proximity to a man so much younger than her late husband—especially one so handsome and vital.

“Even better than this morning,” she managed to reply.

“You received a pencil and paper to write your letter?”

“I did, thank you. The letter is here.” She pointed to the table by her bed. “It’s ready to be mailed, but I haven’t got a penny to pay—for the postage, I mean. Quite the predicament.”

“I’ll see that it’s posted. Fiona brought you a meal.”

“Yes, the chicken was delicious. I ate everything.”

Liam nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait! I mean, can you not visit for a while? I know you’re done for the day and are undoubtedly tired, but stay for a moment. Please.”

He hesitated, and his response was to sigh resignedly and sit in the chair by her bed.

“Was the restaurant busy today?” she asked brightly.

“Aye. Busy enough.”

“Did you serve chicken for the special?”

“No.”

Celia blinked. “You made it especially for me?”

Liam shrugged.

She was touched that he had gone to the trouble. How tempted she was to throw her arms around his neck, for she could not recall the last time someone did something special for her. Instead of thanking him again, she asked, “How did you prepare the chicken?”

His eyes widened at her inquiry. “I fried the chicken breast in hot oil to crisp the skin, then roasted it in the oven with sliced mushrooms, potatoes, and carrots. Just before it was ready, I basted it in a white wine sauce.”

“Outstanding!” Celia enthused. “You are to be commended. No wonder your establishment is busy.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as if he was trying not to smile, but she could tell he was pleased by her compliment as his eyes hooded with a sleepy sort of satisfaction.

“I noticed a bathing room adjacent to the water closet. May I take a bath before Doctor Hornsby comes tomorrow?”

“No. I mean, better to wait until after he examines you.”

“I will start work the day after tomorrow?” Celia asked, excited at the prospect.