The Marquess of Cake (10 page)

Sir Bartley placed his hands on the table. “While it no longer suits my interests, it has been an excellent business and you’ll find cheerful, honest employees. Hales there has a list of key men.”

“Give the list to Mumford,” Michael said to the sallow man who held up a paper. “He’ll be hiring a general manager.”

“We have several candidates, my lord,” Mumford said. “Some recommended by Sir Bartley himself.”

“Excellent. I shall leave you all to work out the details,” Michael said, rising. “Best of luck to you, Sir Bartley.”

The older man stood and shook his hand. “And the same to you, my lord.”

Michael left the room, trailed by Sir John.

“Anything to concern you?” Michael asked, when they were back on the street.

“Not at all. Redcake is a fool to sell. You could develop a string of tea-shop emporiums across the better shopping districts in England with such an idea. Lots of ladies out and about, these days.”

“It’s a new age,” Michael thought again, remembering Miss Redcake and her keen professional interest. “But I agree about Redcake.

A man’s home is his castle and all that, but I’ve met the eldest daughter and I can’t imagine she is pleased to lose her cake business. Have you heard what happened to her?”

Sir John shrugged. “Perhaps she is getting married. Women do, you know.”

Michael rubbed at his face, and told himself the sudden itchy sensation, as if hives were developing, was due to the wet wool around his neck. “Of course, that is most likely. Alys Redcake to domestic life, and Gawain Redcake to the counting desk at the Somerset mills.

I’m sure Sir Bartley has his family’s future all planned.”

“Either way, none of our business.”

Michael nodded. Though he found himself unaccountably curious about the siblings.

“Coffee?” Sir John suggested. “I have one or two points to bring up with you before you meet Mumford again.”

“Very well. I’m seeing him on Friday.” Michael fixed his hat more firmly on his head and they set off together for the nearest coffeehouse.

“Who’d have thought, with the conditions of things when your father died, that you’d be able to casually buy such an enterprise?” Sir John commented.

“It’s a testament to both of us,” Michael agreed. “Maybe we can open the second branch of Redcake’s in Manchester.”

“My bride would love that,” Sir John agreed. “She loves a good cake, same as you, my lord.”

“Are you certain you do not want to go on calls with us?” Matilda said in a wheedling tone. “Lady Lillian is taking us to the home of two countesses.”

Rose coughed. “And a baroness.”

“Don’t you think you should loosen your stays?” Alys asked. The weather had stayed foul, so much so that her mother had persuaded their father to drop the subject of travel for now.

Rose sniffed. “I am perfectly fine.”

“You look delicious,” Matilda said, twisting this way and that in front of their dressing-room mirror. “I do love this blue silk.”

“It brightens your hair,” Rose observed.

“How dare you!” Matilda squeaked.

“You are a dream in blue,” Alys said, to keep the peace.

“Lady Lillian is downstairs,” Lucy announced, coming into the room, her nostrils still sore and chapped from an ague she’d been battling since Boxing Day.

“Oh, we must be off.” Matilda pecked Alys on the cheek and rushed out of the room, followed by Rose, her mouth covered by her handkerchief as she coughed again.

Alys met Lucy’s gaze.

“Maybe you should leave London for a time, miss,” Lucy said.

She twisted her reddened hands into her apron. “I know it is impolite, but I’ve been here four years, and I have never seen you sad and sour before now.”

“I’m sure we will depart soon as the snow melts,” Alys said. “But for now, I’m going for a walk. Once we’re in sunny Sussex, I may miss these overcast skies.”

“I doubt that, miss. But I’ll bring you your things.”

“Thank you.”

When she was snugly dressed in a mantle, bonnet, and new greenstriped gloves and muffler knit by her sisters as Christmas gifts, she left the house. She walked toward Piccadilly Circus without quite meaning to do so. From there, it was pleasant to window-shop her way along Regent Street.

She stopped for a moment in front of a banqueting hall, imagining it as a cake shop, with ALYS REDCAKE emblazoned above a smartly painted front door. Wouldn’t that be something, to have a shop? Of course, it would have to be in Eastbourne, or in whatever small village Redcake Manor was nearby. Having had no interest in her father’s real estate acquisitions, she had no exact idea as to where the new house was.

Probably though, opening her own bakery would cause a catastrophic break with her father. Maybe she could interest Gawain, but, bitter though he was, he’d likely learn to side with her father over time, since he was the heir.

And then there was Lewis, but she couldn’t see marrying him.

He’d served as brother to her for nearly half her life now. No hint of a romantic connection had ever passed between them, not on her side anyway. When he appeared long enough to resolve things between them, she doubted he’d be in the mood to provide a front for her bakery idea. Plus, she assumed he wouldn’t be moving to Sussex with them since his machine shop was here.

She walked up the street, passing a cacophony of businessmen talking, ladies gossiping. A man in a ragged coat pushed in front of her holding a sheaf of bills, trying to hand them out, though the damp would soon ruin them.

“No, thank you,” she said, stepping away from him.

Bootblacks on opposite corners shouted out their prices to passersby. A locksmith clanked by on some rescue mission farther up the street.

“Baked potatoes!” cried a man pushing a wheelbarrow down the side of the street.

“Roasted chestnuts!” boomed another.

Her attention was caught by the display inside a bakery. Egg wash made the pastries in the window glisten. If she had a bakery of her own, she’d have to hire staff to make other confections, since she really only liked to make cakes. Did she have a head for business?

She had no idea. She didn’t have the education her sisters did since she’d begun to work so young, but reading had seemed to close many gaps in her knowledge. Her father never said anything about business in her hearing that she couldn’t understand.

Perhaps she’d try one of those raisin buns. The cool air had her longing for the feel of something warm in her mouth. She put her hand on the door handle.

“Redcake’s carries a much superior product,” said a gentleman’s voice behind her.

She turned. “Hatbrook,” she exclaimed with pleasure. He was ever present in her thoughts as her sisters compared every man they met to his handsome face. But to see him before her struck her anew with attraction to that lopsided smile.

“Miss Redcake.” The marquess lifted his top hat slightly. “What are you doing outside a rival bakery? Comparing merchandise?”

“It is no rival to me, your lordship.” Alys fought to keep her tone casual.

“I had heard you were quit of the Redcake enterprise,” the marquess murmured.

“From whom did you hear that?” Alys asked, shocked. Were the cakies gossiping to customers? Or, could he have asked about her?

“You contracted with my mother to do some work for her party the day after tomorrow.”

“Are you afraid the order won’t be fulfilled? I assure you, sir, I won’t let that happen.” A certain spark left her when she realized he only cared about the party order, not her personally. She’d have to sneak back into Redcake’s to make certain the order was up to standard. Thankfully, she had baked the cakes before her expulsion, but they needed to be frosted, assembled and decorated, not to mention the pastry order. Oh, what had her father done? All those weddings had been booked too, and nothing had been started. If she wasn’t there to manage and decorate, it might all fall apart, damaging the reputation of the firm more than any mere Redcake daughter working there might.

“Is it in your power to make that promise?” The skin around his eyes tightened.

It seemed to Alys that he regarded her with some special interest.

“I-I still have friends and family in the enterprise, my lord. And the work was begun before Christmas.”

“What happened, Miss Redcake?”

She moved away from the door to let a customer go inside. “My sisters have formed a connection with Earl Gerrick’s youngest daughter and it has greatly expanded the family’s social opportunities. My father fears I may hurt their reputations if I am behaving as a working-class person.”

“I thought you might have become engaged over the holidays.”

He must have seen her with Lewis at the musicale. His interest intrigued her anew. “No, I am quite unattached.”

He tilted his head, keeping his steady gaze on her. “What are your future plans?”

Alys laughed, to relieve the discomfort of his penetrating attention. “I have my sisters’ happiness at heart, always, sir.”

“That is not what I asked.”

She shook her head, realizing his question was sincere. “It doesn’t matter. We are moving to Sussex next month, so my employment would have ended then.”

“Oh?”

“My youngest sister suffers from a minor lung ailment, however it does plague her at this time of year in London. I do not suffer the same, but,” she hesitated. “My place is at her side.”

“The air is highly insalubrious,” the marquess agreed. “I applaud your family feeling.”

“Thank you. It is in our best interests to leave London for a while, though I’m sure she’d rather stay here and attend parties.” She swallowed hard, thinking that no one but her father was pleased by the arrangement, necessary though it might be.

“As your sister’s keeper, you may wish to be warned that Lady Lillian does not possess a spotless reputation.”

“She is a bit flighty,” Alys said cautiously.

The marquess raised an eyebrow, making his expression even more remote. “I would not want to see innocent girls take up with her, as I assume your sisters must be.”

“Can you be more specific, my lord?” She wanted direct speech from him.

“She is wasteful of money and careless of people, Miss Redcake.

I would not speak so if you weren’t so new to society and if I didn’t feel a certain kinship to the Redcakes knowing that your brother served in India with my brother.”

“T-thank you, my lord,” she stammered, shocked to think he felt himself to be on any kind of equal level with her family. “I am not fond of her, but she is my sisters’ special friend. I shall implore them to take care.”

“The family has plenty of money, and I suppose yours does too, so perhaps it doesn’t signify.”

“We are too new to money to be casual with it.”

“There is a brother without attachment. Is he being considered for you?”

“Not for me, certainly. Are you saying he gambles?”

The marquess winced. “I am, Miss Redcake. I enjoy spending money, but only on what I consider valuable.”

“Whereas I secret mine away for no reason I can understand.” She sighed. “It is very rude to speak of money, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. And certainly it is rude to damage young ladies’ reputations as well.”

“Then I must consider you a friend, to be so honest with me, my lord.”

“You must,” he agreed. His shoulder jerked and he clasped one gloved hand with the other. “I must be off, Miss Redcake, but I do hope you will accept my personal invitation for you and your family to attend the New Year’s Ball. I understand the refreshments will be excellent.”

“I assure you they will be,” she agreed, matching the twinkle in his eye with her own, while simultaneously wondering why he had become so twitchy all of a sudden. “Are you sure your mother will welcome us?”

“It will be a large crush,” he said carelessly. “Perhaps your sisters will make new friends. It can only be for the best. Since we are based in Sussex as well you might even make friends from that part of the country.”

“That would be so pleasant,” she said. “It would be lovely to have an acquaintance already in place.”

“Then we are agreed. I’ll have an invitation sent to your mother and you will persuade her to accept.”

“It is quite agreed.”

He bowed his head in her direction then pulled open the door of the inferior bakery and walked in. She stared, bemused. Why would he want to purchase items from this bakery when Redcake’s was nearby and he’d told her this bakery was inferior?

Men
. She couldn’t understand Lewis’s motivations and she’d known him all her life, so how could she expect to understand the actions of the Marquess of Hatbrook?

With great purpose, she ignored the snow that fell lightly and made her way to Redcake’s. She went in the front entrance, which felt terribly strange, and took a table in the tea shop. When one of the girls waited on her, she ordered raisin buns and tea and asked her to send in Betsy Popham.

“Of course, Miss Redcake. I’ll find her. Are you certain you don’t want to go into the back?”

So her father hadn’t let the staff know he’d cast her off ? That would make things easier on Friday. “I’m very cold,” she said. “If I don’t get a cuppa into me I’m liable to become an icicle.”

The cakie laughed. “Back in a wink.”

Alys hadn’t lied. Her teeth chattered as she unwrapped her muffler and she noticed her hands shook when she took off her gloves, not dissimilar to the marquess. Yes, he could have been shaking from the cold, though admittedly he hadn’t looked cold, clad as he was in thick winter wool.

She wished he had come with her to Redcake’s, though perhaps he wished to remove himself from her presence. After all, like Lady Lillian, he could have a fiancée tucked away in the country somewhere. She didn’t like that idea and spun a delicious fantasy of his paying court to her. But she wasn’t sure that offered the private moments with him she craved, so she thought about kissing his fascinating mouth, until she felt very warm.

The cakie brought her tea and buns and Alys warmed her hands on the teapot before pouring. She glanced around at the clientele while she ate her first bun. Lovely to see so many ladies out enjoying a day of shopping. She saw string-tied parcels at the feet of many customers and everyone seemed wrapped in that holiday spirit that made this time of year bearable despite the London fog.