Page 34 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 11

Liam sat and brooded in his oversized damask armchair. He shouldn’t behave in such a manner with the viscountess, but he was bloody well fed up with these aristocratic women making indecent proposals, no matter how veiled. It had happened more than once in his past, even while working for Henning.

Walter always advised him to ignore such flagrant and insulting suggestions, but act politely to keep the customers returning. “If we can use your dark good looks to bring in more ladies, why not? Smile!”

It had worked. At noon, more women came in to order Walter’s beef hot pot while Liam served. He received generous tips along with the occasional pinch or lewd suggestion, which gave him a deeper understanding of the harassment women face daily.

Fiona encouraged him to continue making a sporadic appearance in the dining room. She stated that the best chefs came out of the kitchen now and then to receive praise. The concept seemed silly to Liam since he ran a primary dining establishment in Spitalfields. He was not the head chef at The Savoy. Still, it turned out that Fiona was correct to expand their afternoon tea offerings. The repast had taken on a life of its own.

A knock sounded at the door. “It’s Celia. I have brought you something to eat.”

Liam could act like a complete rotter, snarl like a rabid beast, and order her to stay the bloody hell away from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Come in.”

Celia entered, carrying a tray. “I thought you might be hungry. It’s mushroom soup, slices of bread, and some currant cake. There is also a mug of tea. It does wonders after a busy day. I’ll just lay it here.” She placed it on the table in front of him and then turned to leave.

“Stay. Please.” Why he asked, Liam could not begin to fathom. The words escaped from his lips before he could call them back.

Celia sat on the sofa across from him and slipped off her wool coat, laying it beside her.

Liam took a spoonful of soup. “Still warm. Thank you. You saw what happened earlier.”

“With the viscountess? Yes. I admit I was curious when I saw your reaction. I am sorry you were subjected to such—aggravation.”

Liam shrugged as he ate more soup. “It’s a difficult situation. I’m positive Lady Hampton spread a positive word about my restaurant. I can’t be rude, as I need the business. But I don’t understand why she won’t take no for an answer.”

“Because her ladyship is used to getting what she wants,” Celia responded. “Eventually, the viscountess will be more forceful and blunter in voicing her wishes. What will you do, then?”

Liam grunted. “More than she is already? I don’t know. Politely refuse and hope she accepts it. In the worst case scenario, she’ll start badmouthing my restaurant, and business will dry up. Eating establishments rely on word of mouth.”

Celia shook her head. “No wonder you disparage the upper crust.”

Liam picked up the mug and sipped his tea. “The viscountess is not the only reason. I’m the bastard son of a duke.” What had come over him? The words slipped out. Why did he mention it? Because he felt at ease around Celia? As Fiona had said, she was pleasant to talk to.

Celia’s eyes widened at his revelation. “A duke? When did you discover this?”

“My late mother had always told me I was the son of a duke, but I never believed it. Then, two men showed up at my restaurant about seven weeks ago and claimed we shared a bloodline. One of those men is Doctor Hornsby. The other is Detective Sergeant Simpson. He is away on a honeymoon trip at the moment.”

“According to Darrington and Shinwell, my friend is also away on a honeymoon trip. I suppose some couples like marrying during the holiday season.”

“Mitchell and Corrine married—”

“Corrine?” Celia cried. “The former Baroness Addington?”

Liam’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Addington? Aye. I mean, Corrine.”

Celia was shocked, utterly gobsmacked. “You know her? What are the odds? Corrine is one of the friends I’m trying to contact. Is it true the baron was murdered? And when will Corrine return? How is she? I am sorry to toss all these questions at you, but this is unbelievable.”

“Addington was murdered. I don’t know all the details. As far as I know, Mitchell and Corrine will return in late February or early March. Both are well. They are staying at a cottage Drew’s family offered. I came to know her as she and Mitchell grew closer. She assisted Drew with providing medical care every Thursday to those who came for stew. She said she was a nurse for close to ten years. By the time they were married, Corrine and I were acquainted enough to use first names—at her insistence.”

Celia smiled. “That sounds like Corrine. She mentioned nursing in the past. Should I write to her and inform her of my predicament? Perhaps not, as I do not want to disturb her trip. Knowing her as I do, she would drop everything and come to my aid. But I can wait until she returns if you can put up with me that long.”

“Stay as long as you like,” Liam replied. He didn’t want her to leave, which was surprising. He usually preferred to be alone after a hectic day of cooking.

Celia clapped her hands together, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I am so pleased Corrine found happiness—and with your half-brother!” Celia sobered. “That must have been a shock for you to discover, not only the duke aspect but also that there are others.”

“It’s worse than you know.” Between spoonfuls of soup and sips of tea, Liam told her everything Drew had revealed to him. He had to tell someone, and even though they had only been acquainted for a short time, Liam trusted Celia. That was quite something to admit because Liam seldom let anyone close.