Page 18 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“It’s about more than sustenance,” Sarah said. “If we only wanted nourishment, we wouldn’t have invented so many kinds of food. Like bread, for example. We have dozens and dozens of types, each of them with different flavors, different textures. Clearly, we want more out of our food than just nutrition. We want pleasure and experience.”
Her mother stared at her for a moment, a curious, puzzled look on her face. Then, after a pause, she said, “Too many books, too much time at your desk. It’s created a maze in your brain from which you cannot escape.”
Despite the duchess’s words, Sarah’s fingers itched again with the need to get back to her quill. What if she wrote a story about a baker, a shop owner, whoseduced her patrons through her food? All the emotions the baker felt would be translated into the food she prepared, and one need only sample a bite before being overcome with melancholy, or joy, or lust. There would be scenes where lovers fed each other, or else ate off each other’s bodies in a delicious bounty of sugar and flesh. It would be very sticky, but that would be part of the pleasure.
Or perhaps, in her exploits, Lady Josephina could take a baker as a lover. The idea held potential.
“Woolgathering again.” The duchess sighed, but not entirely with despondency. “My little dreamer.”
“Lady Wakefield! Lady Sarah!” A woman’s voice rose above the chatter of the shop.
Looking up, Sarah saw three people approach them—two well-dressed ladies and an equally resplendent dandy. She recognized them as members of the fashionable set, approximately her age but seldom inclined to give her much notice, unless it was to subtly tease her with wit as dry and flavorless as old, stale pastries. She never teased back. It was difficult to fight a sigh at seeing them. The afternoon had been largely an enjoyable one.
“Why, Lady Donleigh, Lord Lynde, Miss Green.” Sarah’s mother gave a polite smile and nod in greeting as the newcomers bowed and curtsied. “A pleasure.”
“You crave something sweet?” Lady Donleigh asked, eyeing the assortment of cakes in front of them.
“Yes, well, I find Gunter’s to be a bitde trop,” Lady Wakefield answered. “The tastes here at Catton’s are much more forward thinking, wouldn’t you say?”
“Of course,” all three agreed at once.
Sarah smiled into her napkin. If these three were cakes, they would be inconsequential fairy cakes, prettily iced but tasting of nothing.
After exchanging pleasantries about the nature of everyone’s health, Lord Lynde said, “It’s actually quite fortunate that we ran into you here. In two days’ time, we plan on attending an exhibit of Oriental art. A private collection on Mount Street that’s lately been open for viewing.”
“Fascinating,” said the duchess, though it was clear she found the notion anything but. To Sarah, however, the idea seemed quite intriguing. She’d read quite a bit about the Orient, especially writings about the secret sexual practices performed by certain individuals. She would have liked one of her characters to be educated in these erotic arts, but her knowledge had been limited by the scope of her reading materials. An exhibition of Asiatic objects and paintings would add more fuel to her creative fire.
“Might Lady Sarah accompany us?” Miss Green asked—though she directed the question to Lady Wakefield and not Sarah herself, as though asking if a dog might come out and play in the park.
Sarah didn’t expect the invitation to be directed ather. Certainly not from these people, who seemed to enjoy carefully, delicately tormenting her.
“It might prove . . .” Lord Lynde coughed to cover a snicker. “. . . educational.”
The other two women giggled.
Sarah didn’t like this at all. Much as she wanted to see the Oriental art, something seemed awry. The invitation. The snide laughter. It didn’t add up to anything she had an urge to be involved with.
Yet before she could politely decline, her mother spoke.
“Of course Sarah would be delighted to join you!” the duchess exclaimed, beaming.
“Mother, I don’t think—”
“Perhaps this could be a way out of that cerebral maze of yours,” her mother whispered under her breath.
Sarah answered in a low voice, “Yes, but I don’t think they really expect me to go with them to the exhibit.”
“They wouldn’t offer if they didn’t want you to accompany them,” the duchess said primly. “Now be a dear and say yes.”
The iron in her mother’s tone said that there would be no refusing the invitation.
“I would be . . . overjoyed,” Sarah finally said to the expectant trio.
“Excellent!” Lady Donleigh clapped her hands. “I’ll send the address to you, and we’ll all meet there on Thursday.”
“Sarah cannot wait,” her mother said.
With a few more exchanges of polite nothingness, Lady Donleigh, Lord Lynde, and Miss Green took their leave.
