One Taste of Scandal (2 page)

“What about the social whirl?”

“I do not know if you are acquainted with my personal history, but Society was never an interest of mine.”

“Nor my brother’s, I understand.”

“Exactly. We are happier down at the Farm at this moment. What do you say, Judah?”

Confused and startled, he set down his teacup. “What are you asking?”

“That you manage Redcake’s,” Alys said, sweeping an arm around the room. “All of it. The supply piece is the easiest, since most of our goods come from my father’s mills and factories. Except the porcelain, which was an innovation of that manager we had so briefly.”

His breath stilled. Could finding a position be as simple as this? Wasn’t this taking money from his brother something he’d promised himself not to do? “I have no experience,” he countered.

“You have insisted to me that you want employment, instead of taking your rightful place in Society,” Hatbrook said.

“That is true, but managing such a place as this is not a position for someone just starting in London. Should I not work on accounts or supplies or some such, and earn the manager position?” He didn’t want to take anything from the family that he didn’t earn, desperate as he was for work. The coal bill needed paying, and he must have new clothes. The rent on the house would send him to the workhouse soon enough, not to mention the servants’ wages.

Alys smiled. “I like you, Judah. I really do. If you would simply agree to come in every day while we are gone, I promise to teach you everything I know during September and October, before we retire to the Farm for the winter.”

“You are leaving?” Yet another shock.

His brother smiled. “Off to France on the first train tomorrow. Alys needs to rest and I have some research to do in the Loire Valley.”

“This feels like a sneak attack,” Judah said.

His brother’s smile widened. “You wanted employment, Judah. I recognize your reasons for not taking an allowance from the estates, even though you are entitled and welcome to it. Legally, you are not a bastard, no matter what Mother did.”

“I didn’t mean for you to offer me a position. I didn’t want to take anything from you.”

“I am well aware of that, as much as I wish you felt differently. Alys made this decision. She said she would know what to do as soon as she saw you.”

He glanced at the lady, who was frowning at one of the scones. He noticed the minutest speck of black in the dough. “A problem?”

She glanced up. “We pride ourselves on unadulterated flour. Or, I should say, the mills do. This is probably just a random bit of bug, but it is something to keep an eye on.”

“You have a detailed eye on this venture.”

“I am very, very proud of it. What do you think?”

He heard the note of steel in her voice. Family or not, she would be an exacting employer. He made a quick decision, as it was in everyone’s best interest. “It is a fine establishment, and I shall do my best while you are away. I do not want you to worry during this time of joy for you both.”

Hatbrook clapped him on the shoulder. “I am glad for all of us.”

“We’ll pay a fair wage as well,” Alys assured him, naming a figure. “That is what the previous manager accepted. He was very qualified, if not of the moral character I had hoped.”

“Then that is too high a wage.”

“Stop that,” his brother said. “You are an experienced leader of men. That is the most important factor. We have written to Alys’s brother Gawain, who promised to come in from Bristol this week and give you some advice. He still works for his father in addition to managing his own concern.”

“That is Sergeant Redcake, correct?” Their army service had overlapped by some years, though it must have been about three years since their paths crossed. The distance between officers and enlisted men was vast, but Gawain had a wealthy family and was very intelligent, which set him apart.

“Yes, the same man you knew.”

“Did he work here?”

“Yes. He learned the accounting side before Father sold the business to Michael,” Alys said. “But he didn’t love it.”

“He worked with supplies when I knew him,” Judah mused. “I think he liked his army duties well enough. In a small station you get to know the men.”

“You are exactly right. He enjoyed dealing with the traders and not doing the same thing every day, the way he did here. But he will advise you properly.”

“I do agree. He was wounded. Has he recovered completely?”

Alys’s lips tightened. “No, he still limps. That does not seem to trouble him much, but he suffers greatly with his eye.”

“Did he lose it?” Judah winced.

“No, just the vision. He is almost blind on one side and scarred, but he can still see light and dark and is convinced that he can find a cure.”

“Indian medicine is so different from our own. I expect he remembers the variety of herbal remedies and wonders if some cure might be found.”

She folded her hands on the table. “Do you know, that is exactly his way of thinking. That is probably the main reason why he has gone into business for himself, to interact with traders.”

“Gawain is making good money with his imports,” Hatbrook said. “Plenty of money to be made still in Indian trading.”

Judah tilted his head. “You have been considering my future.”

Hatbrook regarded him closely. “I’ve been worried about you. You cannot imagine the strain we felt when we were told you were dead.”

Alys’s eyes were suddenly bright and Judah wondered if she might cry. He understood expectant ladies could be emotional. He thought it best to end the interview before it became maudlin.

Pushing his chair back from the table a couple of inches, he tapped his fingers on his thighs. “I know our time together is short. Would you give me a tour?”

 

Magdalene Cross found Lady Bricker on the far end of the tearoom and hurried over to her. Her cousin, formerly known as Lady Lillian, now married to yet another cousin, was a newlywed. She had been banished to Yorkshire over some naughty bit of gossip and was forced to marry her elderly spouse a year or two ahead of schedule. Now, she had returned to London within a month of her marriage to consult on her wardrobe.

Magdalene suspected Lady Bricker’s father, Earl Gerrick, had only allowed her to come here now because the time of year was rather unfashionable. The Season was down to its final moments and many people had already left Town. After all, if Lady Bricker had been here in November as the government sort began to return, her plump cousin would not waste time on a poor Cross girl when there were far more prominent friends or relatives to enjoy. People who had the funds for new ball gowns and time to pay afternoon calls.

Nonetheless, Lady Bricker’s dark sausage curls vibrated excitedly as she stood, brushing crumbs from her bosom. She squealed and embraced Magdalene, burying her cousin’s nose in her scented neck. “Oh, I have so missed the Town gossip!” She squealed again.

Magdalene coughed away the scent of strong powder and gently removed her much slighter person from her cousin’s ample form.

“I am sorry, but I arrived a bit early and was simply famished. I am always hungry when I’m out and about at an unfashionable hour.”

This was exactly when Magdalene liked to leave home. Things the ton must never see her do would pass unnoticed, such as shopping for food. No one knew they were down to one maid-of-all-work at her brother George’s home. She did her best to hide their circumstances so she could still cling to her tenuous place in the fashionable world.

“I am glad to hear I’m not late.” She had been forced to learn to cook since her sister-in-law was so ill, and she had made breakfast for the household before she left. Her brother tutored his two sons. Privately, she thought he should look for employment, to supplement his meager trust fund, but she knew he hated to leave his wife for long.

“No, no, and even if you were, I’d expect you were tending to poor sweet Nancy. The dear lady.”

Then there was their youngest brother, Manfred, walking trouble in trousers. He was nineteen now, and longed to be part of the usual male pursuits. But they could scarcely afford to keep up George’s one club membership. Manfred would have to make his own way but he needed to learn discipline first. When Lady Lillian, as she was known then, shared the delicious gossip from New Year’s Eve about Manfred and his sordid exploits with Lord and Lady Mews, Magdalene had never wanted to show her face in public again. But Manfred? He thought his erotic adventures were the height of entertainment.

No wonder they were known as the Scandalous Crosses. She could not remember the last time she’d gone to a party and not had inappropriate offers from gentlemen.

“Nancy is as well as can be expected.”

“The doctors offer hope?” Lady Bricker buttered another bit of scone as a cakie, as the female waitstaff were called here, approached them.

She placed a tariff in front of Magdalene.

Her cousin must have seen her hesitation. “Go on, Maggie, anything you like, my treat.”

Magdalene had sacrificed her bacon to George and her oatmeal to the boys, so this was welcome news. She perused the menu and ordered eggs, toast, and tea.

“I am not surprised you keep that slim figure with a diet like that,” Lady Bricker observed. “Don’t you want a cake or something?”

“Maybe from the bakery when we leave,” she demurred.

“Oh yes, all those boys. Cakie,” Lady Bricker said. “Can you box up a dozen of those petits fours with the Queen’s face on them? We’ll take it when we leave.”

“The boys will adore you,” Magdalene exclaimed as the cakie nodded and left the table.

“I’m glad I can make someone happy.”

“Your father is still upset with you?”

Her cousin leaned forward. “You have heard the rumors about Matilda Redcake, haven’t you? I assure you they are all true. And I am to be blamed for it all, as if the conception was immaculate and not the fault of that Theodore Bliven.”

Magdalene didn’t dare glance around to make sure no one heard, just in case that drew attention to their table. “When is the unhappy event expected?”

“Just before Christmas, I think. There is still time to find Mr. Bliven and make him come up to snuff, but not much. I wonder if your brother Mark has run across him in India. He’s still there, isn’t he?”

Magdalene bit her lip. They’d had word he resigned his commission, and expected him to be on the boat with a couple others in the regiment, like Captain Judah Shield, who by all accounts was his best friend and partner in troublesome exploits. But Mark hadn’t returned, and they’d had no word in months. “India is a very large country.”

“No word then?” Lady Bricker tutted. “I hope he isn’t dead.”

“O
h no, not dead. We’d have had word.” Magdalene spread her napkin across her lap to hide the shaking in her fingers at the idea Mark could be gone from this world.

“Not if he’s left the army. Who would tell you?” Lady Bricker toyed with a loop of pearls.

Magdalene laced her fingers together tightly. “He had friends. One of them arrived in England last week, though I’m not sure of his current address. He is the brother of the Marquess of Hatbrook.”

“You mean Lord Judah? Why, Magdalene, he just walked past us with the marquess and marchioness!”

“Are they in the room? I didn’t see them.” She wished she didn’t have her back to everyone. Not surprisingly, Lady Bricker had taken the seat that allowed her to peruse the comings and goings of everyone in the tearoom.

“No, I believe they went into the private dining room. It’s a new space designed for ladies’ clubs to meet.”

Magdalene drummed her fingers on her napkin. “How rude would it be to knock on the door and inquire after my brother, do you think?”

Lady Bricker wrinkled her nose. “Very rude, I suspect. After all, this might be their first reunion. I am no longer welcome around that family, you understand, so I am not privy to the latest news.”

Magdalene wanted to stamp her feet with frustration. Judah Shield was only a few feet away. She had to take action. “Do you have any paper, Lillian?”

Her cousin dug in her reticule and found a small notebook. Magdalene tore off a couple of sheets and hunted in her own shabby bag for a pencil, then wrote a note.

As soon as she saw their cakie, she waved her down. “Please, could you take this to Lord Judah Shield?”

“I will see what I can do,” the cakie said, taking the note.

“A woman of action,” Lady Bricker approved. “But then your side of the family always was impulsive.”

Magdalene raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you are all tamped fires and scathing propriety. Now, tell me all about your family. Letters are simply not enough. I do hope I can persuade my husband to take a house in Town for the winter. Yorkshire is not the place to spend the end of the year.”

“I wonder,” Magdalene said. “Do you remember Constance Lively? She is our age and lived near my parents’ house.”

“She was your close companion, I believe. Almost albino, correct?”

“Pale, certainly, but her hair and eyes did darken later. When I last saw her three years ago, she’d become rather striking.”

“What happened to her? As I recall, the father lost all his money and the mother wasted away on laudanum,” her cousin said sardonically.

“She became a lady’s companion. In Harrogate, with a widow who lives with her married son. Lady Varney.”

“Lady Varney,” Lady Bricker said thoughtfully. She poked at one of her curls and pushed it back over her shoulder. “I shall ask my husband to introduce us. I need to make calls when I return and increase my friendships in the neighborhood.”

“It is too bad Constance is in such a different position. She could be a good friend to you.”

“Perhaps I can hire her away to be my companion. The heavens know I am isolated. My husband is a dear man, of course, but there is such a difference between twenty-two and fifty-two.” She stabbed her fork into a berry.

“I have missed you, Lillian,” Magdalene said, impulsively pressing her hand. “It is so enjoyable to speak frankly with someone.”

“What about Aunt Amelia March?” She chewed thoughtfully. “She’s a very frank lady.”

“Yes, but she’s not my generation.”

“I suppose she is nearly as old as my husband,” Lady Bricker said with a sigh. “I remember her as much more dashing.”

“She does appear younger than her age. She pays a call every fortnight or so, but she’s very busy with political matters these days. An abundant number of causes.”

“Ha, is that what she tells you? All of that lovemaking keeps her young, I suppose. Plus no rigors of childbirth. Perhaps she only receives calls from Members of Parliament these days.”

Magdalene pressed a hand to her mouth. Lillian really did go too far sometimes, fun as she was. “I should be getting back. Nancy might need me.”

“I understand, my dear, though I had hoped you would come to my dressmaker’s with me.”

How she wished she could go. “Another day? When I can make arrangements with someone to sit with her?”

“Of course.”

The cakie returned and bent to Magdalene. “I brought in your note, miss, and his lordship said for you to come into the private dining room.”

“What about me?” demanded Lady Bricker.

“I didn’t mention you, my lady.”

Lady Bricker forked up her last berry. “Better not chance it, then. Run along, Maggie. I shall send around a note this afternoon to remind you of our plans.”

Magdalene stood with alacrity, kissed her cousin’s cheek, and thanked her for breakfast before following the cakie out of the tearoom and down a short hall decorated with tinted photographs of fancy cakes.

When her father had been alive, she had had one Season on a minor scale and had seen how Society entertained. She’d always imagined having a cake like one of these at a party in her honor. Now that she was cooking, she wondered if she could learn to bake as well. It wouldn’t be so bad if cake was the end result.

The cakie opened a paneled wood door at one side of the hallway and ushered Magdalene in. She stood in the doorway, clutching her reticule as the cakie closed the door behind her.

Two men rose to their feet to greet her. One was the Marquess of Hatbrook, whom she recognized as being a premier nobleman. He had visited her family early in the year during that time when the War Office had claimed her brother was dead. The other man was taller, a darker shade of handsome—and the man who had bought her a newspaper this morning!

“Lord Judah?” She faltered, as his unusual amber eyes focused in her direction.

“Captain Judah Shield.” He bowed slightly. “I should have introduced myself earlier.”

“Did you know who I was? A Cross, I mean?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “My mind was on other things.”

“It sounds like there is a tale here,” the marchioness said.

“We reached for a paper at the same time and ended up walking here together,” Captain Shield said. “Nothing more exciting than that.”

The marchioness nodded and introduced herself to Magdalene with an informality that reminded her of her brothers.

When Magdalene was seated, Captain Shield said, “You inquired about Lieutenant Cross?”

“Yes. Of course there was all that business last winter about your deaths, and then being disciplined for being in Lahore. Then you both resigned your commissions?”

Captain Shield frowned. “He had not resigned when I left.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I am afraid you know more than I do if that is the case.”

“But you were close friends, were you not?”

“I have not received a letter from him since I arrived.” He turned to his brother. “Nothing came to the Farm or Hatbrook House?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“I will send letters to a couple of places that might reach him,” he offered. “And send you word of the results.”

Magdalene tried to smile. “My family would appreciate that. You can contact my brother George directly if you prefer.” She pulled a second piece of paper from her reticule, on which she’d written the address.

He accepted the paper and smiled, a dashing tilt of the lips that exposed a wry sensibility and even, white teeth. “I much prefer to communicate directly with beautiful ladies. Forgive me if my years in India have taken the polish from my manners.”

“Directness is common in military men, I believe,” she replied.

“How did you discover who I was?” he asked.

“Lady Bricker mentioned you were here.”

The marquess and marchioness both frowned.

“Even I have heard the lady is a viper,” Captain Shield remarked.

“She is my cousin, my lord.” She could see that whatever her cousin’s dealings had been with Matilda Redcake, the wound was still fresh among her relatives. “Thank you for seeing me.”

The men rose. The marchioness extended her hand and Magdalene took it, and then left the room. Outside, the cakie rushed up with a white box tied with exquisite ribbon.

“Her ladyship said to give this to you.”

“My petits fours,” Magdalene said with pleasure. “How kind of her to remember.”

She left Redcake’s and hurried for home, hoping her sister-in-law would have the energy to eat at least one cake.

 

At eight a.m. the next day, Judah left Adelaide Street for his first day of work. The bakery opened at nine a.m. after a busy early morning of deliveries. The tearoom opened at ten. He wanted to do a thorough job and prove to Alys that her trust, so easily given, was not misplaced. On the way, he turned into Trafalgar Square to buy himself a paper as he hadn’t asked his valet to order subscriptions yet.

“Penny daily, penny daily! Latest edition!” Eddy Jackson shouted.

The lad had impressive lungs. Twelve or so, he was tall for a street urchin, and his stocking-covered ankles could be seen under the ragged hem of his trousers. His jacket, in contrast, was three sizes too large. With so much time out in the sun, his sharp nose had become coated with a thick layer of freckles and his light brown hair had a distinct dusting of auburn. He had worn a cap the day before but today his head was bare.

When Judah came closer to reach for a paper, he saw the boy’s eye had been blackened and his jaw was bruised. “Been in a fight?”

Eddy’s mouth closed mid-yell. “Hello, guvnor. One paper or two today?”

“You remember me, do you?”

“I remember all my regulars. You’re going to be one, right?”

Judah grinned. “I like your spirit. Just one today, thank you.” He pulled out a penny and exchanged it for a paper. “What happened to your face?”

Eddy shrugged. “Bit of a dustup at the station last night. Some lads from an anarchist paper were yelling nonsense at an old gentleman.”

“Rescued him, did you?”

“ ’e needed it.” The boy hitched up his pants defiantly. “They took his cane. It were a nice one, worth good money at a pawnshop, but ’e couldn’t walk without it.”

“You’re a brave lad.”

“So ’e said.” Eddy grinned. “ ’e bought me a steak for my trouble. Told me to put it on my eye, but I ate it instead. Might be why it’s swollen shut now.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’d say you deserve another steak.” He reached into a pocket, pulled out a shilling, and flipped it to the boy. “Mind you don’t mix that in with your newspaper money.”

“Yes, sir!” His face scrunched. “Might I put it toward a hat?”

“Lost it in the scuffle?”

The boy nodded.

Judah didn’t know if he was being taken, but he tossed him a couple more shillings. “That should do you, in honor of the old gentleman.”

“And then some. Thank you!” Eddy tucked it away hastily, then, after giving him a sharp look, as if afraid Judah would change his mind, began calling out the news again.

Judah nodded, eager to be on his way to Redcake’s, though he couldn’t quite keep from craning his neck around the Square, looking for a certain attractive young lady. Of course, he was here at a different time of day, so there was no reason to think Miss Cross would be out. He had her address, after all, so if he wanted to call he could. But he didn’t. He was rebuilding his life, and it wasn’t as if his brother hadn’t shared a few tales of the Scandalous Crosses with him when they’d dined. It sounded as if Cross women were more mistress material than wife, something to keep in mind for the future.

Instead of going around the front of Redcake’s, he headed into the alley behind the shops, discovering a bustling world all of its own. Shopgirls in tidy dresses rushed to their places of employment, chattering like exotic birds. Carts full of bread rumbled over the cobblestones, pushed by tired-looking men scraping their boots on the ground. The occasional pile of malodorous horse droppings told him larger deliveries had passed by not long before.

He saw casks piled up behind the back door of the bakery, in front of the loading dock. A wagon was being filled with wheeled trays of white boxes and he saw horses coming up the alley from the opposite direction. He nodded to the workers and ducked in the door at the side.

“Captain Shield?” A middle-aged man with graying brown hair bustled up, his mustache twitching in irritation.

“Yes, and you are?”

“Ralph Popham, bakery manager. Behind me is Simon Hellman, in charge of deliveries.”

Another man, about the same age, lifted his hand as he dashed by, out to the loading dock.

“Glad to have you on board, Captain.” Popham pulled a white handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his forehead. “You had better see Alfred Melville right away.”

“And he is?”

“In charge of the kitchens. It’s a mess down there, I’m afraid.”

“I should see what Ewan Hales has for me.” He’d met the manager’s secretary yesterday and he seemed a competent man.

“You can do as you wish, Captain, but the action is below.” Popham pointed to a set of doors. Someone called for him and he rushed off in the direction of the bakery.

Judah put his hands on his hips and surveyed the frantic faces of people moving about. He didn’t know any of them yet, but he suspected he’d better investigate below.

Opening the doors revealed steps leading down to the basement kitchens. He’d noted his brother’s comment yesterday that this would be the first place to be electrified, since there was no outer light coming in. Of course, there was a freight elevator to move goods, but a lot of people came through this staircase.

When he reached the base of the stairs, he pointed at the first man he saw. “Mr. Melville, please?”