Page 88 of The Best-Kept Secrets
“A shortbread biscuit, but with lemon, caraway seeds, rose water, and sometimes dried fruit.”
Duke nodded toward the assorted items. “You have lemon and dried currants.”
“I suspect I could adjust the usual approach to make something delicious even with some of the ingredients missing.” This was exciting. “I should make some bread as well. Then, when I return, it’ll be a bit stale, and I could make bread pudding. That is Artemis’s favorite.”
“An excellent plan, Eve.” He pulled off his frock coat and draped it over a chair. “What can I do to help?” He pushed back the sleeves of his shirt. “Bearing in mind, of course, that I have never baked anything in my entire life.”
“You even thought to obtain aprons.” She pulled them out of one of the crates. “We’ll not return with telltale flour on our clothes.”
“We should ask Artemis if telltale flour is destined to be all the rage in London fashion next year.”
They turned in unison to look at her across the way.
“No.” She managed to look entirely haughty while somehow still conveying that she was laughing along with them.
Eve set to work making the Shrewsbury biscuits. Duke did whatever she asked him to do. And while they worked, they talked.
“This feels like being back at the inn,” she said.
He was concentrating very hard on his task of working butter into the flour mixture. “I don’t know how much help I was to you in that kitchen. Orthis one, for that matter.”
“Oh, you are decidedly useless in the kitchen.”
Duke smiled. How she loved that smile.
Eve chopped the dried currants. “I would love to bake every day. I could create my own recipes and discover which herbs make the most delicious bread. And I would love to learn how the French make such uniformly layered pastries. There’s some trick to it that I haven’t yet sorted.”
“Never you fear, Eve. I happen to be an expert at pastry.” He preened for the length of a breath, then, as if confused, asked, “We are talking abouteatingpastries, aren’t we?”
She burst out laughing. “You are no help at all, Dubhán Seymour.”
Eve happened to glance across the room in that moment. Artemis and Ellie were watching them with curiosity.
“You will adore Shrewsbury biscuits,” Eve assured them.
“And what about Duke?” Ellie asked.
“He said he likes shortbread.”
With a not-quite-hidden smirk, Artemis said, “Oh, we were talking about the biscuits, were we?”
There was no mistaking what Artemis was implying. They thought Duke “adored” Eve, or at least liked her in a way beyond friendship. A quick glance at Duke revealed that he hadn’t missed the comment. And though he didn’t look confused or embarrassed, he did look uncomfortable.
He had only just begun showing his playful side again, teasing her and smiling with her. There was more warmth between them again. She didn’t know that they would return to the tenderness of their time at the inn or the first day or so of this house party, but she didn’t want to lose what she had only just regained.
She pointed at them with her knife. “Watch yourselves there, you two. You’ll be noticing I’m accidentally armed.”
Artemis smiled broadly. “All the Huntresses know what it means when Eve’s voice grows excessively Irish.”
Ellie laughed. “It means we’re in trouble.”
From beside her, Duke said so quietly that he might not have even realized he’d vocalized the thought, “I like the Irish in her voice.”
Eve continued her chopping, pretending she hadn’t heard, not wanting to embarrass him and not wanting him to pull away again.
“Does this look as it ought?” Duke turned the bowl he held toward her to reveal the contents. He’d incorporated the butter enough to make a very crumbly dough.
“It’s perfect.”
