Page 94 of Miss Delectable
“You must escort me to the parlor, Colonel,” Ann said when the ladies rose to take their leave. “Lieutenant Haines is too busy communing with his wineglass.”
“He never did have much of a head for spirits,” Orion said, coming around the table to offer Ann his arm. “Brave, though,” he muttered. “Foolishly brave. I commend your compassion, Miss Pearson. Mrs. Upchurch did not deserve it.”
The company made a slow procession along the corridor to the guest parlor, some of the ladies not very steady on their feet. Orion Goddard, however, exuded all the sobriety of an officer facing massed armies in the morning. He was once again the remote, burdened man Ann had met months ago at Mrs. Dorning’s bedside.
The evening had doubtless been trying for him in the extreme, while for Ann, it had gone surprisingly well. Not as expected, but well.
“Melisande,” Ann said, “did not deserve to be told at the ages of six and eleven and sixteen that her only chance for happiness lay in enticing some man to offer for her. I did not exactly lie, and if I do publish a cookbook someday, Melisande can ensure it has many subscribers. What is wrong, Orion?”
They waited for the assemblage to thread the bottleneck into the guest parlor.
“I all but begged Upchurch to buy my champagne,” Orion said quietly. “I could have supplied most of the wine consumed at this supper—at all of his fancy dinners—but he refused. I badly need the business, and he disdained to send it my way. But somehow, a considerable quantity of my champagne found its way to his table.”
Mrs. Spievack glanced at them, as did Dexter Dennis. The lady’s expression was merely curious, while Dennis was again glaring daggers.
“Uncle Horace did serve your champagne,” Ann said. “I am sure of that.”
“I was too busy wanting to throttle the Bainbridge woman,” Orion said, “to notice that I drank my own vintage. Had you not said anything…”
Mrs. Bainbridge, who was fixed to the brigadier’s arm like a barnacle clinging to the last ship in the harbor, chose then to laugh.
“Orion, listen to me,” Ann said, keeping her voice down as well. “I will make my peace with Melisande—she owes me an apology, at least—but if I had to choose between the man who noticed my recipes and the relatives who’ve spent years being ashamed of me while exploiting my talent, I would choose the man.”
The footmen had neglected to light enough candles in the guest parlor, and the entire company remained milling about in the corridor, escorts and ladies alike.
“I cannot ask you to choose between France and England, Ann. I know how hard you’ve worked, and—”
“I’m not choosing between France and England,” Ann said, the words coming slowly. “I sat among these people tonight, watching them pick at food the cook spent hours concocting from a menu I’ve spent years crafting. Some of the guests noticed a particular dish, some of them even complimented a course here or a wine pairing there, but, Orion, to them it’s merely food. Most plates went back to the kitchen more full than empty. A guest might recall a particular dish if they see something like it again, but it’s not… A menu doesn’t mean what I thought it meant.”
What she’d hoped it meant.
“They appreciated the meal, Ann. I certainly did. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
The crowd resumed shuffling toward the parlor door. “And your appreciation matters. For the others, this was a passing pleasure, and for some of them, the gossip provides more sustenance than the food. I see that now.”
Orion peered down at her by the flickering light of a mirrored sconce. “You are blowing retreat?”
“No, Orion. I am transferring to a different regiment, if you’ll have me. I don’t want to end up like Melisandeor like Jules, and those are not my only choices. I want to end up like your sister, well loved by a worthy, if occasionally vexatious, man. I want to be an extremely busy woman who enjoys most of what she does.”
“Dorning is more than occasionally vexatious.”
“You like him, and you respect him, and I more than like and respect you. What will you do about Uncle Horace’s thievery?” For that had to be how the champagne had found its way to his table.
“There’s more to it than thievery, Ann. Horace Upchurch has much explaining to do.”
“Then have your explanations from him, Orion, but know that my loyalty and my heart are yours and always will be.” Ann kissed his cheek. “Be gracious in victory, for Uncle is surely facing defeat.”
Orion bowed and left her at the parlor door. Ann sent up a quick prayer that Uncle was smart enough to surrender to superior forces before the battle turned into a complete rout.
Chapter Sixteen
“I want to know why.” Orion chose to accost Upchurch in the library rather than give the brigadier time to concoct defenses or take evasive maneuvers.
The other officers filed past, some going immediately to the chamber pots set out by the sideboard, others settling into the comfortable chairs before the roaring fire. Two footmen stood at the ready, holding trays of port by the window.
“Not now, Goddard.”
“You make my life a misery for years, bring shame upon my name, and try to destroy my business. You will explain yourselfnow, Upchurch, or you will find this gathering turned into a drumhead court martial.”
