Page 47 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 15

Liam arrived home shortly after four in the afternoon. Celia had waited all day for his return. Thankfully, making the scones had taken up part of the time, and they’d turned out lovely. When she learned Liam had gone to his rooms, she swiftly prepared a tray with tea and scones and took them up to him. As she entered the hall, she again pondered how to broach the sensitive subject of Tommy.

Celia knocked on the door, and Liam flung it open.

“Hello. I hope you don’t mind. I have brought scones and tea. Tommy and I made them.”

He stood aside. “Come in.”

Celia entered and placed the tray on the table. After removing her coat, she poured the tea, passed him the mug, and then poured a cup for herself and sat on the sofa across from his chair. “I think they taste fine for a first attempt. We added currants and cinnamon.”

“I have something for you,” Liam said as he sipped his tea. He pointed to an envelope on the table. “That is yours. It’s the five pounds your cousin stole from you plus thirty-five more for your trouble.”

Celia’s heart sank like a stone tossed into a lake. Liam wanted to be rid of her. All her nightly dreams and imaginings that something profound had grown between them… Had it just been her overwrought imagination? She’d believed that sparks danced all around them when they touched. But then, what did she expect? They had only known each other for two weeks. This was not some grand romance. “Darrington paid Shinwell’s debt?”

“No, not exactly.”

Celia’s eyebrows furrowed. “I do not understand.”

“I made a deal with Darrington. I would forgo the gaming debt owed me in exchange for payment for what your cousin stole and the negotiated thirty-five pounds. I also got your aunt’s address in Italy.”

Celia blinked rapidly, trying to take in what he said. “You did that for me? Why? You left close to two hundred pounds on the table.”

“You deserved justice. This was the best way to see it done.”

“Is that the only reason?” Celia whispered.

“No. You’re a fine lady—a dowager countess—and should not be toiling in a kitchen for a few shillings a week.”

“What if I told you I felt more alive these past two weeks than I have in the past several years? Before I arrived here, I had been shunted around and made to feel invisible from the moment my parents died. And my marriage to Winterwood was a barren expanse of nothingness. The age difference between us negated any reflective conversation or shared amusements. Oh, we formed a polite friendship, I suppose. But as far as intimate relations? Perfunctory and swift, for the possible making of an heir—”

Liam held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me any of this.”

Celia knew she was prattling, but she had to get this out. “I must. For five years, I tolerated his weekly visits to my bed. It was—I do not know how to explain it. If that is my total understanding of what intimacy exists between a man and a woman, then I never want to experience it again. It left me feeling more alone than ever. Is it always like that?” The words poured out of her. Celia couldn’t stop them.

Liam shook his head. “No. It’s not like that, not with the right partner. It can be mutually enjoyable.”

“That is your experience?”

“Yes, for the most part. I hear it’s even more intense when love plays a role. I wouldn’t know about that. I’m sorry you did not take any pleasure or were given any. No young woman of nineteen should be married off to a doddering fifty-five-year-old.”

“No, she should not. But it happens far too often, especially in the aristocracy. I tell you this to show how much I enjoy being here on my terms and how it has given me purpose. Thank you for the money, but I will not move to Drew’s empty flat. Unless you want me to go.”

Liam looked down at his hands, and Celia’s heart sank deeper as she waited for his reply. If he asked her to leave, that would be the end of it. With forty pounds, she could find a suitable place to rent a room until she located her friends or her aunt returned. She would mail a letter as soon as possible and inform Aunt Etta of everything that had transpired. Celia would never return to the Darrington residence, not even for her aunt, but it was past time she and her aunt reconciled.

Liam exhaled, then looked up and caught her gaze. His eyes darkened with emotional intensity. “I don’t want you to go. I’ve never felt like this before. I can’t even explain what I feel. Everything is jumbled inside of me. I’m revealing too much, but I don’t want to lie—not to you. All I know is I want you to be happy.”

Celia’s eyes shimmered, and her heart thundered with powerful emotions. “Thank you for being truthful. I will also speak the truth. I am happy here. It already feels like home. Why would I want to leave? I have not had a home or people who care for me since my parents died. And I have never felt like this before, either.”

He gave her a sad half-smile. “We must be practical. There can be nothing permanent between us. You’re a countess, a daughter of a baronet, and not of my class.”

“I do not accept that. Corrine and her police detective have made it work,” Celia said firmly.

“Mitchell was raised by loving parents and given a good home in a middle-class neighborhood. Drew was raised in the aristocracy. You don’t want to know of my past and what I did to survive,” Liam growled.

“I do want to know.”

Liam sighed and looked toward the window. Light snow flurries tumbled from the sky. “I was raised in grinding poverty. My mother and I moved constantly from one dingy room to another. From ages six to eight, I was a pickpocket. From the age of eight until I was eleven, I worked as a house thief. Dodgy blokes often use youngsters because they are small and can climb through windows. Often in the early morning, servants open windows to air rooms out. I grabbed anything I could get my hands on, such as silver spoons, snuff boxes, or whatever could fit in my pockets.”