Page 10 of The Sweetest Season
Eventually, he rejoined the party, and soon a guest came up to him, one of Beatrice’s elegant pastries in hand.“Spared nothing on food, did you, Forrest?Her ladyship outdid herself this time.”
Noel blinked in confusion.“Her ladyship?”
“Have you not heard?”The guest’s voice dropped.“Miss Holliday isn’t really Miss Holliday.She’s the daughter of some baron or viscount.Lady Beatrice Something-or-Other.Holliday’s only one part of her name, andnotthe recognizable part.”
“If that’s true, why is she baking in the back of a Philadelphia shop?”
“Some family squabble,” another guest joined in.“She jilted the man she was to marry.Or something to that effect.”
Noel frowned.Beatrice didn’t seem the type of woman who treated anything lightly.“I find that difficult to believe.”
“I heard the story from a reliable source.You know, once an Englishman came into her shop and recognized her.Called hermy lady.”
“What happened?”Noel asked.
“She tossed him out, and then tossed a cake in the street right after and told him it was on the house.Not a woman keen to keep in touch with her old circles, I’d say.”
“Waste of a cake,” the first guest noted mournfully.
Noel had to think about the news for a minute.What caused a woman to give up her family name and station to start over on another continent?What secrets was Beatrice hiding?
* * * *
When the early winter evening had already darkened the sky, Beatrice and Ivy surveyed the remains of the food.The party was over, and nearly everything had been devoured.
“I have to admit, this all went very well,” said Ivy.“If we had an event of this size to cater each month, the shop hours could be reduced.”
“Why would we want that?”
Ivy looked over at her, slightly exasperated.“The prospect of a day to yourself doesn’t appeal to you?You work far too much, and don’t pretend you rest of a Sunday.I know you sneak work in even then.”
Beatrice shook her head.“The shop must stay open.I’ll not trust my financial future to the vagaries of Philadelphia’s social season.”
“But life requires sweetness as well as sweat,” Ivy argued.“And why drive yourself so hard that you lose sight of what drives you?You love cooking and making others happy with what you’ve created.But if it becomes a burden, you’ll lose that joy.You deserve joy, Miss Beatrice.”
Bea blinked in surprise at her companion’s impassioned speech.Didshe deserve joy?Before she could reply, Ivy was already motioning her to keep silent.“Mr Forrest!”she said cheerfully as he approached.“We were just saying what a success it’s been.I trust you’re satisfied?”
At the wordsatisfied, Beatrice felt her cheeks flush.But Noel only said, “Everything went better than I hoped.Miss Shepherd, would you be kind enough to tell Mr Marley how he can help you pack up?I’d like to speak to Miss Holliday for a moment.”
Ivy nodded and moved away.
“Yes?”Beatrice asked, trying desperately not to remember his kisses earlier.
“What would happen,” he asked, looking her over carefully, “if I addressed you as Lady Beatrice?”
Oh, no, not this again.“I would be unlikely to answer,” she said, keeping her tone cool.
“Because it’s incorrect?”he asked more pointedly.
“No,” she ground out.“You would be correct.But also upsetting me.”
“Well, then I’ll be careful not to say any such thing.”
“Have you been asking about me?”
“One of my guests happened to mention it.You’ve intrigued more people than me, it seems.”
“Well, please enjoy speculating on my past, then.”Beatrice turned away, angry at the thought of being the subject of gossip.Again.Not even being on a different continent seemed to stop it!
