Page 22 of The Chef and the Countess (The Duke’s Bastards #2)

Celia awoke, and it took a moment for her to realize where she was. The curtains were drawn, and not much light peeked through. She was curled up in Liam’s arms, and one of his hands was grasping her breast. He breathed deeply, obviously sound asleep. Did she dare move?

“Liam,” she whispered.

He groaned sleepily and brushed his thumb across her breast, causing her nipple to harden. The sensual sensation that tore through her made her gasp, then moan. Just that slight movement caused sparks to skitter along her nerve endings, and she felt wetness between her legs.

Celia had never experienced this with Carlton—not at all. But then, her husband never touched or kissed her. Once Carlton had caught his breath from their brief encounter, he’d returned to his room, often without speaking. Because of her husband’s swiftness, she’d never had the luxury of any enjoyment in the act—not even a twinge.

But Liam? Celia closed her eyes. Just looking at him caused her to tremble all over. Kissing? What a revelation. Celia wanted more. She wanted that hardness she felt whenever he pulled her into his arms deep inside her. The carnal thought was more than she could bear.

However, as much as she yearned to become intimate with Liam, Celia realized there was much to settle first. Communication was paramount. Despite her loveless marriage—and outside the marriage bed--she and Carlton had always spoken to one another if an urgent item had cropped up. She’d also let him know if she was concerned about something. Because of this back and forth, they’d formed a sort of friendship even though they did not have much in common. Then Carlton had become ill, and most conversations had ceased.

If Celia was to have any future with Liam, they had to be honest with one another. She grabbed his upper arm and gave it a vigorous shake. “Liam!” she said more loudly.

“Jaysus! What?” He came awake with a start and sat up partway, blinking rapidly. “What’s amiss?”

“I am sorry to wake you so abruptly. Nothing’s happened.”

Liam sighed and lay prone.

“Did you get up sometime during the night, or did I dream that?” Celia asked.

“At the crack of dawn or close to it,” he replied. “I wrote a note to Darrington and delivered it to his butler.”

“Oh. Was that wise?” Celia murmured.

“Probably not.”

Celia listened as he relayed the contents of the letter. “My uncle will not react well to that.”

“It wasn’t a threat, but a promise I made when last we met and agreed to the terms. Shinwell broke that contract with the doings last night. We both know your cousin is the ‘he’ in that statement. I imagine Morrisey will pay a visit to Darrington this morning.”

“Yes. I believe Shinwell is the ‘he’, as well. The man who grabbed me used the same phrase Shinwell used to say to me before I was sent away to school. I should have told the sergeant, but my mind was spinning.”

“I heard him say it the day he brought you to me, and I let Morrisey know that. Your cousin is a degenerate fool.”

“I know.”

Liam glanced at the clock. “It’s close to nine. I should be up already.”

“I want to talk to you first,” Celia said in a lower voice. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?” Liam murmured.

“For a few things. I have been saving them up. First, I apologize for not telling you I was a dowager countess when Shinwell brought me here.” Celia rested on her side, staring at the opposite wall. “There is no excuse for keeping that from you. Initially, I was scared that you would toss me into the street. As Fiona succinctly told me, I lied by omission.”

“You had your reasons. I understand why you didn’t, and I don’t judge you. I know about survival. Don’t worry about it.”

“Still, I want us to be honest and open with each other. I also apologize for bringing all this upheaval to your door. M-m-my uncle and cousin.” Her voice trembled. Blast it; this was harder than she thought. “It’s because of me that they are threatening your livelihood with their criminal acts,” she whispered miserably.

“It’s interesting that you say criminal. I recently discovered that your uncle is known on the streets as Billy Buck. Lucian Sharpe told me. It seems that the earl is leading a double life. What he’s involved in, I’ve no idea.”

Celia gasped. “Why did you not tell me this before? Oh, no. The note will certainly anger him!”

“As I said, I only just learned it, but aye, I should have told you right away. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to conclude business with the man and have nothing more to do with him. And he agreed. I believe Shinwell caused this latest mischief without your uncle’s knowledge. Darrington will be livid, and perhaps he will finally harness in his son.”

“This is what I mean about telling each other important information,” Celia said matter-of-factly. “It does not change the fact that I brought them into this.”

Liam gently turned her onto her back. He then laid on his side, resting on his elbow. He smoothed the tendrils of hair that had come loose from her pins. “Love, all of this would have happened anyway. Shinwell owed the money before you arrived in London. I never should have given the viscount any credit to begin with. That failure of judgment is on me.”

“But because of me , you left most of that debt on the table to secure my aunt’s address and a small settlement.”

“I will get it back when your uncle pays what is owed—something he will have to do now that Shinwell broke our agreement. Besides, I would do anything to assist you. Love, I’ll do anything to keep you safe and keep that cheerful smile in place.”

Celia touched his cheek. “What is happening between us? Do you know?”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I still don’t know. I can’t put it into words.”

“Fiona said you have had plenty of lady friends. I am not disparaging your character, far from it. All—or most—men have a past. It’s expected.”

“Expected? Maybe with the upper crust. Fiona is speculating. I’ve not had ‘plenty of lady friends.’ My restaurant kept me too busy for most interactions with women. Many Saturday nights, I went for a walk or to a pub to observe what the competition was doing. Recently, I visited a widow once a week,” Liam murmured. “I broke the connection.”

“When?”

“Two days after I met you.”

A lump of emotion settled in Celia’s throat. She had no idea what to say. Could it be? Had he felt something toward her that quickly?

“Since we’re being candid,” Liam ventured, “I want to tell you that I not only mailed your letters to the new Earl of Winterwood and your aunt, but also sent telegraphs.”

“You did? That must have cost you a pretty penny. Why?”

“It cost a few shillings, but I could afford it. I suppose I wanted you to receive the help you deserved. Letters take too long, although I was told the telegraph to Italy would take longer than the one to Northern England. I also considered sending a telegraph to Mitchell and Corrine, but you said to let them enjoy their honeymoon, and I think you’re right.” Liam sighed. “It doesn’t sit well with me that you are laboring in my kitchen, cleaning counters, making sandwiches, taking orders—”

Celia laced her fingers through his. “I do not mind taking orders from you . Now, I want you to listen closely. I want to work here and assist you. Believe me; I would have told you upfront had I not liked it. I am not some delicate flower that needs to be coddled. If I were, I would have taken Drew up on his generous offer. But I’ve had enough of that life. I do not want that life, now or in the future.”

“The future?”

It was hard to see in the dimness of the room, which made Celia bold. “We can have one. Together. Because I have never felt like this. I adore you, Liam Hallahan. I cannot imagine a better life than being at your side. There is nothing we cannot accomplish—as long as we do it as partners.”

The room became still, and the growing silence became awkward. Liam never moved; Celia couldn’t even hear him breathing. Had she shocked him into a frozen, uncommunicative state? Had she gone too far?

“Liam?” she whispered. No reply. Celia reviewed the recent conversation. He said he wanted her to be happy. But perhaps he only meant in the present. Liam sent telegraphs—to be rid of her? No, it couldn’t be. “Speak to me. Do not withdraw from me.” She grasped his shoulder and shook it. Just how deep did his wounds from the past go? Blast it. She had gone too far, too fast. Liam had started—in increments—to come out of his shell, but her declaration of affection might have set things back. Celia had never witnessed anyone shut down emotionally like this before.

“I will take you to your room,” he replied, his voice detached.

Celia’s heart sank. But she would not become angry and shrewish. It was not her way, no matter how infuriating this man acted. “Liam, if you do not feel the same toward me, say so now, and I will depart.”

Again, silence.

“It’s all right if your feelings petrify you. It is also new and strange to me,” Celia continued. “But it’s also exhilarating.”

He pulled his hand away, but Celia grasped it again. “Please do not hide within yourself. You have come so far, not only with me but with your staff—your family . You must be completely honest with them. Tell them of your recently discovered son and your duke-father background. Acknowledge Drew and Mitchell as your brothers—publicly. Allow them into your heart. Only then will you be able to accept your feelings toward me.”

“Celia,” Liam croaked.

She carefully pulled herself upright and swung her legs around. Gingerly, she stood. “I know I’m asking a great deal. I also know that you care for me, more than simply concern for my safety and comfort. I will leave you to think about what I said. I can go to my room on my own. The injury is not that serious.”

Celia headed toward the door, then halted. She had come this far--she might as well dive into the deep end of the bathing pool. “I more than adore you, Liam. I am falling in love with you. There. I said it—the dreaded ‘L’ word. The time has come for you to decide what you desire for your remaining years. Your choice. I know you have it in you to stop hiding. Come and find me when you do.”

Holding her head high, she exited the flat. Liam did not follow.

Celia might have to walk out of his life if he could not accept his feelings.

And that horrible prospect nearly cleaved her in two.

* * *

Liam stumbled downstairs thirty minutes later. He’d barely slept, not only because of the message delivery but also because Celia’s brave and emotional plea had played repeatedly in his head. There was nothing else for it. He was a complete prat. An emotionally damaged, hollowed-out husk of a man. How could one’s past cast such a shadow over the present and the future? Living on the streets had hardened his heart, no mistake. Even these past years of having a steady job and a roof over his head had done nothing to eliminate the feeling that it could all end with a snap of his fingers. Even when he’d inherited the business, he’d lamented over every burnt sauce and every outstanding invoice to such a point that Fiona had slapped his face when they’d been alone in the kitchen, telling him to get a grip.

Fiona should give him another whack across the chops to beat some sense into him now. He had managed to rein in his overwrought anxiety concerning the business, but when it came to showing his emotions regarding people, that aspect still alluded him.

A beautiful woman had just told him that she was falling in love with him, and he’d became immobilized, unable to think or speak. Any rational man would have gathered her into his arms and been damned grateful, opening his heart and telling her how he felt. But not him. He’d stood as still as a granite statue covered in bird shite.

“Liam, we have breakfast laid out. Come join us.” Enya smiled as he entered the kitchen. He inhaled, and the enticing aroma of bacon hung in the air. He nodded and followed Enya into the staff eating area. His staff was efficient and well-trained, just as Drew had observed. A few people cheerily said, “Good morning,” and Liam acknowledged them with a brisk nod as he strode to the sideboard. He heaped his plate with fried eggs, bacon, and cheese. There was an empty chair at the head of the table.

Sit at the head of the table and get to know them better. Share a laugh and praise them for a job well done.

Celia was right about that and so much else. This was as good a place as any to start. “Good morning, all,” Liam said with a smile as he sat. “Who cooked breakfast?”

“Timmy and me,” Tommy said proudly. “Enya took a tray to Celia already.”

Liam cut into the fried egg and took a bite. “Perfect. The edges are crispy.”

“Just as you taught me,” Tommy replied.

“Enya, when Fiona awakens, I want you two to ensure all the staff is here at half past five for a meal and a meeting.”

She nodded. “I will. Fiona said she’s making sandwiches for Celia today. There’s grilled chicken, cucumber and watercress, cheese and onion. After the lads start the stew, they will assist Fiona with the sandwiches. There are also lobster puffs from the toff trays.”

“Good. Now, what’s on the menu for today?”

A knock sounded at the rear door. “That’s Mr. Eckley with the bread order,” Tommy stated.

“His money envelope for yesterday’s bill is on my desk, lad. Go fetch it and pay the man.”

“Aye,” Tommy replied. I asked Mr. Eckley for four dozen ginger biscuits and five dozen treacle tarts. I meant to tell you yesterday, but with everything—”

“That’s fine, Tommy. Well done. Eckley said he was branching out with his second cooker purchase. Ask him for a full menu when he has it, as we will purchase more baked goods.”

“Yes, Liam!” Tommy ran from the room.

Liam spread blackberry jam on his toast. “Enya, see that Fiona uses Eckley’s items today with the tea trays. Now, the menu?”

“Shrimp and haddock chowder served with Mr. Eckley’s fresh bread,” Hannah replied. “I’ve already chopped the shrimp and the haddock fine, as you showed me. I’ll do the potatoes and onions after breakfast. There are also cod and shrimp cakes served with boiled potatoes, carrots, and peas with chive sauce. That’s your dish.”

Liam had decided to serve it for tonight’s family-staff meal. He knew the staff would be dedicated to their tasks, including boiling eggs and chopping potatoes and onions for the seafood cakes. Billings Fish Market gave him a good deal on the fish, most of it pickled since it was winter. He didn’t serve oysters or eels because they could be had at a cheap price at any street corner or merchant’s cart. Eel shops had opened in the East End, becoming as popular as the fish and chip places. Liam would stay with his plan of serving food that was a notch or two above the street. “Timmy, you will work with me today. We will put on extra potatoes and will need more onions chopped. Several eggs need to be boiled hard for the cod and shrimp cakes.”

“Yes, Liam,” Timmy replied as he popped a piece of bacon into his mouth.

Tommy entered the room and laid a plate of treacle tarts on the table. “Mr. Eckley said these are for us to try, no cost. He also said he will have a complete menu for you tomorrow. Mrs. Eckley has her niece assisting, so there will be more offerings.”

Liam bit into the tart. Delicious. He would gladly give Eckley more business. “If any of you know trustworthy people who want to work here, let me know. I’ll be looking for night staff, a waitress, and another barman-waiter. Morrigan will be moving to the day staff later this week. I’ll also need someone to replace Teddy.”

After the breakfast dishes were cleared and washed, the staff simmered the stew on the stove as they prepared the fish chowder and cod and shrimp cakes. Once the free stew concluded, the kitchen staff had their assignments and got to work. Fiona joined them at ten o’clock and started preparing the sandwich fillings. The staff’s adaptability and resilience in the face of these challenges were genuinely commendable.

The kitchen smelled like a fish market, but that was to be expected. Even though it was chilly outside, the kitchen windows were open halfway to allow airflow and some relief from the hot gas cookers roiling at full tilt. Liam had also installed vents in the walls and extra windows so some air could circulate. It was during this mad dash to opening time that Morrigan entered the kitchen.

“Blimey. A man at the front entrance is asking to see Celia. I told him we weren’t open. But he said it was important.”

Blast it. “What’s his name?”

“He said he is the Earl of Winterwood.”