Page 6 of The Chef and the Countess (The Duke’s Bastards #2)

Celia next awoke when a knock sounded at the door. She sat upright and hurriedly tried to set her hair to rights. She must look a fright as she hadn’t had time to do proper ablutions or wash her hair. How pleased she’d been to find a large clawfoot tub in the adjoining room to the water closet. When she recovered, a warm bath would be perfect.

“Come in,” she said as loudly as she could.

A strange woman entered, holding a tray with a teapot and enamel mugs. “Good afternoon. My name is Fiona. I’m across the hall, in room three.”

A jolt of disappointment shot through her. Celia had been hoping Liam would visit.

“The night manager. I am pleased to meet you. I’m Celia Gillingham.” Her nose twitched, and she reached for the handkerchief and blew her nose.

“How are you feeling?” Fiona asked as she placed the tray on Celia’s lap.

“Better. All that sleep has helped. I should start my duties, the slicing, chopping, and whatnot.”

Fiona poured hot tea into the mugs. “Help yourself to milk and sugar.” Fiona added milk to hers, then sat in the chair by the bed. “There is no rush. Liam says you’re to wait until the doctor comes tomorrow.”

“What a fascinating man,” Celia murmured between sips.

Fiona smiled. “Who, the doctor or Liam?”

“Both. Why would Mr. Hallahan take me in?”

“Because that is what Liam does—he helps others. We use first names here. He has three homeless orphan boys helping in the kitchens--Timmy, Tommy, and Teddy. Yes, those are their real names.” Fiona smiled. “We guessed their ages fall between thirteen and sixteen, although the boys claim not to know. They share a room in the back, work here in the mornings, and attend school in the afternoons. The boys are learning to read and write, although Tommy already knows how.”

Celia’s heart squeezed with compassion. “What a considerate thing to do.”

Fiona took a sip of tea. “Don’t ever tell Liam that. He has no patience with praise, giving or receiving.”

Celia held the warm mug between her hands as she assessed Fiona. The woman was in her late thirties or early forties, with dark red hair and blue-green eyes. She had a lovely countenance and possessed a nice figure. “How long have you worked for Liam?”

Fiona smiled. “Since he took over ownership of this business four years ago. But we’ve known each other for much longer. We both worked for the previous owner. To change the subject, Liam told me what happened with your cousin. I’m sorry you were mistreated. Is there anyone I can contact for you?”

Celia shook her head. “My aunt is my only living blood relative and we have not had much contact these past years. Her husband and son claim she is wintering in Italy and they refused to give me the address. My husband died a month ago. He had not provided for me in his will. I was given ten pounds and told to leave the cottage. I arrived in London last week. My aunt’s husband offered a room—for five pounds a week.”

“The bloody cheek!” Fiona exclaimed.

“My aunt’s son stole what was left of my money. Then he dragged me here.” Celia sighed wearily. Recounting all this was depressing to the extreme. “The only other people I know in London are two school friends, and I was told they are not in town. As soon as I’m recovered, I will seek them out because I don’t believe the source of the information.”

“I’ve noticed you don’t refer to the men as your uncle or cousin,” Fiona observed.

“I will never claim them as a family again. Even if I did locate my aunt and we reconciled, I could never stay there. But I refuse to dwell on it.”

Fiona tsked. “It doesn’t take much for someone to end up on the streets. I know. Experience one ill-fated circumstance or several smaller ones, and then—boom—you’re homeless. It must have been quite a shock.”

Celia nodded. “It was and still is. First, I must recover. Second, I must write a letter to my late husband’s solicitor and tell him of my predicament. Perhaps he can assist me by sending money. Even a few pounds will help. I am determined to regain my independence and not be a burden to anyone.”

“I’ll try to locate some paper and ink for you. Can I bring you anything? Something to read? Are you hungry?”

“Something to read would be lovely. A cookbook, a newspaper, whatever you can find. And as far as food, I’m not hungry. I can wait until later.”

Fiona patted her hand and stood. “Keep the tea; there’s plenty in the pot. I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you,” Celia smiled.

Fiona nodded and departed.

Celia yawned. Tired again? Well, that was the way it went when one was ill. She had undeniably witnessed Carlton sleeping constantly. She had asked the doctor about it, and he’d claimed that sleeping could be crucial to the healing process, although that hadn’t been the case for Carlton. But it might be true for her illness.

After all their amiable years together, how could Carlton have left her without a home or money? Men were foolish and selfish creatures—at least, that had been her experience. But it didn’t sound as if Liam fell into that category. Giving homeless boys a purpose? Her admiration of Liam ratcheted up a few notches. Celia wanted to know more about the intriguing Irishman and intended to stick around long enough to find out.

* * *

“Well?”

Fiona closed the door to Liam’s office and sat in the chair, facing him. “I believe she’s telling the truth. She wants to write to her late husband’s solicitor, inform him of her situation, and perhaps have him send her some money. Women are often left out of wills. It’s not fair. If her late husband has a solicitor, the old bugger must have been part of the middle class at the very least.”

Liam had solid principles and a soft spot for those in need, especially women like Celia. His own past experiences had shaped these ideologies, and he was always ready to help those who were struggling. What Fiona said was true. Most people couldn’t afford solicitors, and most never made wills. That was a luxury for those with some status, money or not.

“I’m pretty good at judging when someone is lying—and so are you,” Fiona stated, pulling him from his thoughts. “I believe Celia is sincere. I like her. She smiles readily, is pleasant to talk to, and is a good listener.”

“I had the feeling she spoke the truth, but I wanted a second opinion,” Liam muttered.

“Celia also mentioned two friends, but her uncle and cousin told her they were not in London. How would they know that?” Fiona questioned.

That is a good point. “I suppose they know the families. When she’s feeling better, I’ll question her more thoroughly.”

Fiona chuckled. “You’re hardly a detective with Scotland Yard. Too bad your friend, Sergeant Simpson, is away. Try to be polite and not bark at the poor lady. She’s been through enough.” Fiona sobered. “When she does recover, what will you have her do?”

“She says she can’t cook, so there are scullery duties, washing dishes, feeding the unfortunates, and the like. There’s enough to do around here to keep her busy.”

“Further proof that she came from the upper middle class. For example, wives of bankers and lawyers have cooks and housekeepers.”

“I never thought of that.” It made perfect sense.

“To change the subject. About the business hours--let’s alter them further.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”

“Cut them back for the rest of the winter. Everyone is exhausted, Liam, including you. The Crowing Cock has become more of a success than we ever imagined. Let’s close the pub at one, instead of two. Maybe even midnight. Most of the gaming takes place between eight and twelve. We don’t make enough after that to justify staying open. It will give us more time to clean and prep the area for the luncheon and teatime crowd the next day. I can show you the pub ledger regarding the earnings.”

Liam sat back in his chair. “I believe you. Midnight it is. Who has outstanding accounts regarding the gaming?”

“Viscount Shinwell, 240 pounds, and Mr. Elliot Hartright, Esquire, 178 pounds.”

Liam whistled. Those debts had to be collected promptly. “The men are barred until they pay. Make sure Bruce is aware.” Bruce Shepherd was an ex-boxer who was taller and more muscular than Liam. Since hiring him two months ago, any rowdiness and requests for credit had fallen. “I will see about the debts this Sunday, and if I don’t receive any satisfaction, I’ll send Bruce. What about other customers regarding our new policy on credit?”

“The regulars are still given credit and pay within two weeks. Those accounts are up to date. A few newer customers have asked for credit; I said no, and there was no further argument.”

“Good. What else?”

“We should cut the restaurant menu even more. Instead of offering three or four choices at luncheon, there should be at least two during the winter. Teatime has become very busy with ladies looking for sandwiches. We should offer them every day. Put Celia in charge of making the sandwiches. We can use leftover meat and other foods for the fillings.”

“Maybe you should be the manager of this business instead of me,” Liam grumbled.

Fiona laughed good-naturedly. “Give over. It was your idea to offer teatime delicacies.”

“Only because of the toff food that’s donated through Hornsby and Simpson’s aristocratic connections.”

“And look how popular it’s become. You said you’re making a profit in that area with that and the bakery items you buy from Mr. and Mrs. Eckley. We charge more, especially since you bought those three-tiered fancy stands and the extra china dishes. Tommy said he wants to learn to make scones since he’s mastered soda bread. We can offer those as well. Tea and scones. They are a perfect pair. Tearooms are opening up all over.”

“Anything else?” Liam said sarcastically.

Fiona chuckled. “I’ve been saving these ideas. I wanted to present them to you all at once.”

Liam gave her a slight smile. “Maybe you should be running the restaurant, and I run the pub.”

“You love to cook. You’d miss it. Besides, I like sleeping late and being out on the floor at night giving orders. Especially to men.” She gave him a wink. “So, what have we decided?”

Liam counted off on his fingers. “We close the pub at midnight starting next week. We’ll go with two options for luncheon starting tomorrow. We’ll meet with Celia and plan the menu for teatime. I’ll speak to Tommy about the scones.”

“He’s a good lad,” Fiona said. “You never said where you found him—or the other two.”

“I can’t talk about it—not yet,” Liam said. “It wasn’t the best of situations, as you can imagine.” And had far more personal implications than Liam was ready to acknowledge as yet.

“Then we’ll discuss it another time.” Fiona clapped her hands together. “Perfect. I do like it when everything works out.”

“You mean when everything goes your way,” Liam replied gruffly.

“We will have to consider staffing in the next week or two. I want to hire another muscular young man for the pub to serve drinks and help keep the customers in line. That will free up one of the young women to work during the day.”

“We’ll discuss it next week. Is that all?”

Fiona smiled. “For now. Did you have lunch?”

“No.”

“You stay here in the office. I’ll bring you a bowl of stew. Take some quiet time for yourself. I’ll see that teatime runs smoothly. I have to check on the beer delivery anyway.” Fiona stood, came around to where he sat, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Liam, like the younger brother I had always wished for. Never forget that.”

Liam grunted in response.

“You can respond with more than a grunt,” Fiona admonished gently. “We are alone, no one will know.”

Liam took her hand, the one resting on his shoulder, and kissed it. “Back at you, Fee. I always wished for an older sister.”

They had been through a lot together, both having experienced tragic losses in their pasts and shared a strong bond due to their Irish backgrounds. When Walter had taken Liam in, he was no more than a feral animal and Fiona’s kindness and patience had slowly won him over. Fiona’s opinion mattered, so when she said Celia’s story sounded legitimate, Liam was silently relieved. He didn’t just take anyone in. But the fact that he’d reacted—physical and otherwise—to touching her and holding her in his arms was concerning. It had been a long time since a woman had piqued his interest—and not just physically. Liam closed his eyes, remembering when he had stood in the hallway, holding her close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. When Celia had touched his shoulder and arm and trailed her fingers through his hair, he’d nearly dropped to his knees. The reaction had been that intense.

For that reason alone, he should consider taking Drew’s suggestion that he send Celia to a charity house. He had a long-standing rule never to become involved with the staff, but she would not be a permanent employee. As soon as she had better accommodations, she would leave. Liam’s internal struggle was more than evident. It was a constant battle, a war raging within him. He knew what he should do, but his growing feelings for Celia, a woman he had just met and was now responsible for, made it difficult to follow through.

Perhaps it was better that she departed. The last thing Liam wanted was to complicate his life. And a lovely lady in distress could upend his ordered existence—if he let it. However, he could already feel Celia encroaching closer to his heart. And maybe he wanted that more than he was willing to admit.