Page 73 of Would I Lie to the Duke
“How do you know that for certain?” Lady Haighe asked.
“Because everyone who tries McGale & McGale soap becomes a repeat customer,” Cynthia said. “We know this for a fact—and have the record of sales to prove it.”
The visitors murmured amongst themselves, and Noel had to admit that what the McGale family offered sounded promising.
“We’d like to see the accounting ledgers,” Jess said. “To see how profitable the business was before the fire.”
“Our sister—the one who isn’t here—kept them,” Fred said. “They show McGale & McGale’s profitability when we did have all of our structures and equipment. We would be happy to provide that for you, Your Grace.”
“Here they are.” Cynthia motioned toward one of the workers, who brought forward two volumes. She handed the books to Noel. “Feel free to look at them during our luncheon, but I’ll need both back before you leave today.”
“My thanks.” He flipped one open to find very thorough auditing of business costs and profits. “Where is your other sister?”
“She’s...” Fred cleared his throat. “Working. She has been employed off the farm for several months.”
“Neither one of us has seen her in some time,” Cynthia added.
“Shame,” Noel said, returning his attention to the ledger. She’d done a fine job of recording the expenses and revenue. The handwriting looked oddly familiar. He tried to place where he’d seen it, picturing in his mind a woman’s hand recording something in a notebook with that same penmanship.
Ah, well. It didn’t signify. Whatwasof importance was the careful and detailed accounting in the ledger, revealing the sustained profit of the McGale operation.
When everyone had finished examining the books, they were returned to Cynthia McGale’s care.
“Luncheon next, I believe,” Jess said.
“Right this way, my lords and ladies,” Fred McGale said.
He led the group to a long table that had been set up beneath the branches of an oak. Wildflowers in ceramic jugs were placed at intervals down the middle of the table, and a collection of unmatched plates marked each person’s place. Since they were not in a formal setting and he wasn’t required to seat himself according to rank, Noel offered Jess a place beside him. She smiled and took the proffered chair.
The McGale siblings and two of the farm’s workers brought out platters of simple, homey food, including roast chicken, cucumbers dressed with vinegar, and apples baked in honey-sweetened pastry.
As the sun inched lower in the sky, it cast golden light through the oak leaves, and between having Jess beside him, the mellowness of the mead, and the languid June air in this bucolic place, Noel couldn’t recall a more enjoyable day.
Beneath this sense of calm and peace, anticipation sparked through him. He had another night with Jess beneath his roof. Another night before their time together ran out—but it didn’t have to come to an end. Tonight, he’d show her with all the ways he could how much she meant to him.
“My lords and ladies,” Cynthia McGale said, holding up her hands, “Your Grace. Thank you all for your visit today. Have you any further questions?”
After a moment, Lady Farris said, “I have none. The moment I return to London, I’ll have my man of business prepare the necessary documents.”
Mr. Walditch, Mr. Parley, and Baron Mentmore added their own plans to invest. By the time they’d voiced their intentions, the McGales looked as though they were on the verge of joining hands and dancing in a victorious circle.
Even Jess grinned, clearly pleased that she’d guided everyone to a worthwhile venture. He felt it from her, the sense of relief so profound it eased through Noel’s own bones.
“Potential is ripe here,” Noel said. “I’m in.”
“I think this calls for a celebration,” Fred said. “More mead, and I baked a honey cake in hopes of this very outcome.”
The glasses were all refilled, and moments later, Cynthia came out bearing a large platter with an impressive golden-brown cake. Strawberries and blackberries adorned the top of the cake and encircled its sides. She cut slices for everyone, adding a dollop of whipped cream with the berries.
As everyone ate and drank, contentment gripped Noel. He resisted the urge to stroke his hand down Jess’s thigh beneath the table, but he felt her beside him just the same.
Conversation went on, slightly drowsy from the long day and the excellent meal.
Jess stood. “Please don’t get up,” she said when Noel and the other men began to rise. “I just need a good stretch of my legs before we return to Carriford.”
“A walk sounds the very thing, Lady Whitfield,” Noel said as he got to his feet. “Machines that get too little use turn rusty.”
Together, they strolled away from the table. They took a path past several fields full of growing crops. The air was filled with green scent and the fragrance of rich soil—though he was ignorant of what precisely they grew—and bees droned beneath the late afternoon sky.
