Page 61 of Potions and Proposals
“Pity; it’s my favourite.” Benedict winked, popping the piece between his lips.
“The dark chocolate fudgeisa crowd-pleaser,” Mr Lark reiterated.
“What if we do two cakes, since we know the dark chocolate is going to be a success?” Benedict suggested.
“I love that idea,” Crawford beamed. “How is it the magless do it? Something old, something new…”
“Maybe we should make it blue.”
Lucy gripped her fork as Benedict placed his hand on her thigh in silent warning about her tone. She hadn’t meant to sound so mocking. Eyeing the Matherson ring on her thigh, she found it hard to swallow, wishing there was more than just her sheer tights between his hand and her skin.
“Sorry– it’s an excellent idea, but I think two cakes would be rather excessive,” she said, sliding his distracting hand from her thigh and firmly putting it on the table.
“What a beautiful ring!” exclaimed Mrs Crawford, taking Lucy’s hand. “Combining the two stones, how…” She hesitated. “Thoughtful.”
“Do you have yours yet?” Mr Lark asked Benedict.
“Not yet – it’s in the works,” Lucy lied, wishing she hadn’t left it so long. She’d been so distracted trying to get the curse-stripping potion organised. “If we’re going to have two cakes,then the pumpkin would be a nice choice for the second,” she decided. “So we each have our favourite.” The ring reminded her of how he had gone against tradition to combine both their elements. The least she could do was let him have his favourite cake flavour.
“The cream cheese frosting is exceptional and would be a great alternative for those with less of a sweet tooth!” Mr Lark put in.
“Then we agree?” Mrs Crawford asked the table.
Lucy took a shallow breath, her cramps growing sharper again. She pressed her palm into her abdomen, willing them to stop.
“Are you okay? You’ve gone pale,” Benedict whispered.
“I’m fine, it’s just warm in here,” she said, wiping her lips with her napkin. “Could you excuse me for a minute?” Fortunately, only Benedict was paying attention; the other two were still debating the cake issue.
Lucy hurried to the bathroom. Stress made her cramps and flow worse, and with everything going on, this period felt like someone was butchering her insides. Thankfully, she had some pads in her bag, but she let out a little sob when she found her vintage pill box was empty. She’d have to wait to take something for the pain, the last dose having worn off long ago.
Returning to the table, she found the group were ready to leave.
“We decided to go with one cake with different layers. I knew you’d be worried about waste with two cakes,” Benedict said, resting a hand on her lower back. Comforted by his touch, she wanted to lean into him.
“Happy with that?” Mrs Crawford asked.
“Perfect,” Lucy said, trying to pay attention as the cramps crept into her legs. Mrs Crawford and Mr Lark finalised the details with Fowler while she gathered her things.
“Sorry for making the final decision without you,” Benedict whispered, offering her the coat from the back of her chair. “You were so pale when you left, I figured you weren’t feeling well and would want to leave.”
“I’m just a bit nauseous,” she lied, forcing a small smile. “Too much cake, and you’re right to split the layers. An excellent compromise.”
“We’re going to the bar at the Manor to decide on a special cocktail. Benedict said we could design one for the festival guests,” Mr Lark announced, meeting them at the door.
“If you’re feeling up to it– it was just an idea,” Benedict said, concern edging his words as he studied Lucy like she was about to crumble.
“It’s a great idea, but I should head home. I’m not feeling too well.”
“Sorry to hear that; we’ll keep you informed,” Mrs Crawford said, resting a reassuring hand on her arm. “Get some rest.”
“You go ahead. I’ll be along shortly,” Benedict told the others as they all left the bakery.
“I wouldn’t leave them alone for too long; you know they don’t get along,” Lucy said, but he kept an arm around her and she was grateful for the support. “I’m fine. You can tell me what you decide. I just need to get home.”
“Come back to the Manor. You look like you’re about to faint,” he said firmly as Ms Fowler locked up behind them.
“I’m not a damsel in distress,” she protested, but truthfully she didn’t know if she could make the walk back. After setting the cake on fire, she didn’t trust herself to use magic to cover the distance.
