Page 19 of The Duke of Spice
“If I get one of the Mowbray House footmen to hand deliver it, there won’t be any post markings on it, so no one will ever know where it came from.”
Victoria’s morning was on the up. Her belly was full of delicious Italian food, while her mind was a whirl of possibilities.
The only thing still left empty was her heart.
Chapter Eight
Matthew had other plans and so wasn’t able to join Victoria and Richard for a late supper the following Thursday, but true to form, he had managed to dig up one useful piece of gossip from the various balls which he’d chaperoned Victoria to over the past week. According to the hostess of the first party at which they’d made an appearance, the Duke of Saffron Walden had indeed attended the function, but he hadn’t stayed long.
She couldn’t blame him. The clever but rather elusive Duke of Spice had done himself a service and been spared the long, slow death of the supper table.
“Lady Victoria, could you please lean a little closer,” said her maid.
Victoria blinked back to the now. It was close to nine o’clock and she was standing in the foyer of Mowbray House, her gaze half focused on her warm evening gloves while Mary fastened her woolen cloak. At two and twenty she was more than capable of putting on a cloak and gloves herself, but the duchess insisted on having the servants do it.
If he is in the spice trade, I don’t expect the food at the duke’s table is boring.
Her imagination filled with thoughts of spicy curries, and rich hot dishes flavored with lashings of herb-based gravy. Every last drop of food would be sopped up with freshly-baked crusty bread.
Bliss.
Tonight she was going to visit the restaurant whose review had appeared inthe Morning Heraldearlier that day. All her hopes were pinned on enjoying an evening of culinary excellence. If things went according to plan, she’d write to the newspaper and share her own considered opinion of her dining experience. It may well be the beginning of a long and beautiful correspondence.
Please let all the dishes be a delight. I just want to eat food worthy of my desires.
This was London, a major city of the world. It shouldn’t be that hard to find an excellent eating establishment, but her recent efforts had mostly been in vain. The usual dining haunts of the upper class did little for her imaginative palate. Roast beef was roast beef, and most cooks were content with a pinch of salt and some dried herbs to finish what was in truth a rather plain dish.
Her expectations for joy had now become firmly fixed on the writings of the weekly restaurant reviewer. He had to come through for her tonight.
“Ready to leave, Victoria?”
She turned as her brother Richard appeared at the bottom of the grand staircase which led down from the upper floors of the elegant Georgian mansion. His gaze went to her reticule and Victoria’s heart sank. That look could only mean one thing.
He’s gambled away all the money I gave him just a matter of days ago.
With Gideon no longer supporting his habit, and Coco and Matthew both tight with their own coins, Victoria had become Lord Richard Kembal’s de facto bank.
Her maid finished with the cloak and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Have a good evening, Lady Victoria.”
The second Mary had disappeared down the servants’ staircase, Richard cleared his throat. “I’m happy to chaperone you this evening sister dearest, but…” A tight smile formed on his lips. “The cards are just not running my way this week. So I’m afraid I am at your mercy for the bill.”
I can’t recall the last time the cards did run his way. Not last month. Not this year.
It had occurred to Victoria that while she was being asked to play her role in the family, no one seemed willing to take Richard to task over his reckless spendthrift ways. She dreaded to think just how much money he had lost at the card tables, but suspected it was close to a small fortune.
The sound of their parents’ raised voices reached her ears. At the top of the stairs, the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray were having an argument. A domestic tiff. Victoria and Richard exchanged a knowing look.
This wasn’t a real fight between Anne and Clifford—their children knew the signs of one of those all too well. No, this was one of those…
She didn’t want to think about her parents in that sort of way. The mere notion of them being naked and doing ‘things’ made her stomach churn.
“I think it’s time we left, don’t you?” suggested Richard.
Victoria nodded her approval. If things went as they usually did with the duke and duchess, they would disappear into their private apartment and not be seen for several days.
The Duke and Duchess of Mowbray had made spousal fighting a gladiatorial sport, one only bested by their long sessions of making up in private. Victoria shuddered.
“Well past time we were gone. I do not want to be thinking of what our parents are getting up to as I put my food in my mouth.”
