Page 12 of The Chef and the Countess (The Duke’s Bastards #2)

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.

“Eugenics,” Celia whispered incredulously. “How despicable. Oh, Liam, that is quite the disclosure.”

“It appears we’re both dealing with upheavals in our lives,” Liam murmured.

“Yes,” Celia replied quietly. “And we must make the best of it. Doctor Hornsby is a decent and honorable man. I came to that conclusion swiftly. I’m sure Mitchell Simpson is the same.”

“He is.”

“Then why not embrace them as friends and brothers? As to the rest, the new Duke of Chellenham and the others can wait until you are ready. Open your heart, Liam. I know you have one. Let them in, as well as the people who work with you. Make them part of your life. You won’t regret it. I always longed for siblings. Corrine and Selena were as close as I came. I regret that we grew apart.” Celia met his gaze. “I am chattering and should not be making such suggestions. Ignore my misguided advice.”

“From anyone else, outside of a couple of people here, I would ignore it. But I appreciate that you—you—”

“Care enough to offer my opinion?” she smiled sweetly.

“Aye. That.”

“I do care, Liam. You have all accepted me into your circle. It means the world to me.”

His heart skipped a beat at her emotionally charged words. It was best to change the subject before he revealed how much he was growing to care for her . “You say your other friend is married to the Duke of Barnsdale?”

“Yes.”

“I will escort you as soon as we can arrange it. I’ll ask Drew to discover the address, and we’ll go from there.”

Celia smiled as she stood. “Thank you. I was told the duke was in seclusion with some illness. Selena mentioned she was ready to divorce him because he was cold and harsh. Maybe that is why she’s away.”

Liam scoffed. “Another miserable peerage marriage. I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Me, too. When I saw her in November, she was quite miserable. Selena did not want to be touched. She was never like that when we attended school.”

Which meant Celia’s friend had probably been mistreated mentally and physically. But Liam would keep that to himself, as he did not want to distress Celia further. “Don’t tell anyone working here about my family connections. I’ll tell them when I’m ready.”

“Of course.”

Liam rose, took her elbow, and escorted her to the door. “Thank you for listening. You’ve given me a lot to consider.” They were standing close. All Liam had to do was slip his arm about her waist and pull her near, but he resisted. Being her friend was about all he could deal with right now—or so he told himself—because he was also sorely tempted to kiss those luscious lips.

Celia gazed up at him, smiling. God, what he would give to look at her lovely face every morning next to him in bed. He abruptly stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven.” Liam wasn’t precisely aloof, but neither was his tone as warm as before.

Celia nodded. “Good night.”

He stood in the doorway, watching her stride down the hallway. A flood of yearning tore through him, causing his heartbeat to speed up. He ached for her. Absolutely ached . When she stopped before her door, he closed his before Celia caught him looking at her longingly.

“Open your heart,” she had said.

Easier said than done.

* * *

Later that week…

William Buckingham, the Earl of Darrington, exited his bedroom and slowly descended the stairs. It was already past ten, and he was starving. As his butler, Baldwin, approached him, William snarled, for he had no time to hear complaints about one thing or another. Not when he was famished.

“My pardon, my lord. But a visitor stopped by this past Sunday. You have not been here for me to inform you of the matter.”

William had been staying at his Hampstead flat, partaking of the hired pleasures from the nearby brothel. “Make it quick, man. The ham steaks are calling to me.”

“Mr. Liam Hallahan came to collect a gaming debt. The viscount refused to pay. Mr. Hallahan asked me to mention it to you as he wants to discuss the 240 pounds owed. He also wishes to discuss the Countess of Winterwood. I have his card, my lord. He says he will be here this coming Sunday afternoon.”

Blast it. William had initially thought Troy’s debt scheme a lark, but now the chickens had come home to roost. “Very well, I have received the message.” William strode away before Baldwin kept him any longer.

William entered the dining room to find his sluggard son eating breakfast at the table. “It’s not noon yet. Why are you up? And if you value your life, there better be ham left!”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Troy said, his mouth filled with food. “I did not touch your precious ham.”

William lifted the covers from the chafing dishes and began filling his plate with eggs, ham, and sausage. “About Hallahan, I suppose? Baldwin just informed me that he came by. Settle the blasted debt. You have received your monthly stipend. See it done.”

“I’m not paying that odious Irishman anything,” Troy said, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “He can send his bullyboy if he wants, but he’ll not get a penny from me.”

William rolled his eyes as he sat, and a footman came to his side to pour the tea. “Sean, leave us. We are not to be disturbed.” The footman bowed and closed the door behind him.

William cut into his ham, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed. “I’ll not have bill collectors at my door. I have warned you of this. You said you would cease the gambling. How many other debts are there?”

“I have quit. I told you,” Troy whined. “It’s just this debt.”

“Then. Pay. It.”

Troy crossed his arms. “No. I won’t.”

William rolled his eyes in exasperation. The boy was thirty-three but still acted like a petulant child in short trousers. “I have reached the end of my rope with your various shenanigans. It’s your fault your mother swanned off on a winter holiday. You were at the core of all our arguments through the years. She said I indulged you and allowed your reprehensible behavior, especially when you were fifteen, and caught with a maid and the stable boy!”

William slammed his fist on the table. “This devil-may-care lifestyle is at its end. If you do not pick a suitable bride and are not married by the end of the summer, I will make your life a living hell, starting with cutting off your allowance and throwing you to the cobbles. You may inherit the earldom someday, but I will ensure you inherit as little as possible. This townhouse is in your mother’s name; I can sell it to keep it out of your hands. As for the investments, they are well hidden. You will never reap the benefits. All you will inherit is the title and the country home. You will have nothing to live on. Mark my words.”

Troy’s eyes narrowed. “All this over some petty gaming debt?”

“Clean out your ears, boy. It is the final straw. You will accept responsibility and find a wife, or I will select one for you. I need an heir to carry on the title. It’s time for you to fulfill your destiny. I never should have allowed you to drag Celia to that Irishman’s place of business. I did it in a fit of peevishness. That episode will be one more thing your mother will hold over me.”

“You want me to pick a bride? Fine. I pick Celia. She’s a tasty dish.” Troy gave him a smug look.

“She is your cousin,” William thundered.

“Cousins are allowed to marry. It’s not illegal.”

“Leave it to you to know of that particular legal tidbit. Your obsession with your cousin is unhealthy. Why do you think she was sent away to school? You couldn’t keep your blasted hands off her!” William exhaled. “And she’s barren. Ten years married to Winterwood and not an heir in sight. Forget her. Select someone else. You know what? Forget it . I will pick the lady. I may have to bribe the bride-to-be’s father, but there are enough peers mired in considerable debt to sell me their virgin daughter. You will be married by the summer. Once you get her with child and she bears a son, you can live your life as you please.”

Troy snarled, clearly agitated.

William cut his sausage and popped a piece into his mouth. “Now that is settled, tell me about Hallahan’s visit and what was said.”

“He threatened me. First, over the debt, then he had the gall to lay hands on me when I called Celia a bitch. And she is! She sent that muscle-bound Irishman to collect her trunks. That weasel butler allowed the footmen to take them to a waiting carriage. The gig was fancy, too, with a coat of arms on the door.”

William stopped in mid-chew. “A peerage carriage?” What the devil was Hallahan doing with an aristocrat’s conveyance? “Was he alone?”

“A fair-haired man with spectacles assisted the footmen in securing the trunks. I had never seen him before. Hallahan said he and his ex-boxer bully would be here next Sunday to collect.”

“Did he, indeed?” William murmured as he sipped his tea. “Leave it with me.”

“No. Hallahan insulted me. He must be made—”

“Do not interfere. You will stay out of this if you want to become more involved in my illegal smuggling businesses.” William picked up his knife and waved it at his son. “Agree to the marriage, and I will make you my partner. Then, you can make real money. Your money. Forget revenge. It is a useless diversion.”

William continued eating while casting glances at his brooding, stubborn son. Troy would not let this go. So William would use this as a test to see if Troy could finally grow up and accept responsibility.

Somehow, William doubted it.