Page 17 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

After she was seated, he took his place opposite her, said grace, and nodded to the footman that they were ready to be served.

The man laid a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. The aroma of onions was intoxicating. Jethro sniffed, and sniffed again, his stomach grumbling in response. One spoonful was enough to tell him it tasted as good as it smelled.

“I must commend you, Cassandra. I did not expect you to overhaul the menu on our wedding day.”

She smiled at him, pleased with his praise. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. The recipe is one of my mother’s.”

He was too tired to initiate any further conversation and ate his soup greedily, finding it hard to prevent himself from slurping in his hurry.

A footman cleared away his empty bowl and put a fresh plate in front of him, which Jethro began to fill from the dishes on the table. He carved himself a generous helping of mutton and covered it with a sauce that smelled as good as the soup.

To this, he added a huge slice of Mrs Timms’s beef pie and some vegetables. He closed his eyes as he savoured the first mouthful. Such delicious food was an unlooked-for benefit of getting married.

Married? Jethro’s jaw stopped moving as he remembered he was not alone. How could he have forgotten? He opened his eyes and looked down the table to where Cassandra sat with an empty plate before her.

He swallowed his mouthful, irritated with himself for ignoring his wife. How uncouth she must think him. He was even more unfit for society than he had feared. Should he be serving Cassandra? He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that at a distance.

At a nod, the footman brought Cassandra’s plate, and Jethro filled it with a little of everything, not knowing what she liked.

“Is the sauce another of your mother’s recipes?” he asked. “It’s delicious.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, a slight flush to her cheeks, as if the compliment meant something to her. “It was a favourite in my father’s house.”

Jethro lapsed into silence as he enjoyed the rest of his meal—a silence that Cassandra didn’t interrupt.

When the cloth had been cleared, his wife stood. “I will leave you to your wine.”

Jethro rose to his feet as well. “I know it is the custom for fine ladies to withdraw, leaving the gentlemen to their liquor, but I do not drink spirits. I therefore suggest we adjourn to the drawing room together.”

“As you wish, but you must expect to sit with the other gentlemen when we have company.”

Jethro pursed his lips, trying not to let her gentle instruction grate on him. This was what he had asked of her. He just hadn’t anticipated it would be so hard to be told what to do.

Nor had he foreseen that she would dive so readily into the task before they’d been married a day. A small voice inside him whispered that she probably hadn’t expected him to leave her to fend for herself on their wedding day either, but he ignored it. Business had to come first.

“I congratulate you on the delicious meal you arranged for dinner, Cassandra. It was largely food I was accustomed to, but the additions were most welcome. I must thank Mrs Timms for following your recipes so successfully,” he said, reaching for the bell cord.

“Your housekeeper is an admirable woman—”

“Our housekeeper,” he corrected.

“Our housekeeper is an admirable woman, but fine cooking is not her forte. If you wish to entertain, we will need a more sophisticated cook. Preferably a man who is well-versed in what should be served at a fashionable dinner. I cannot always be in the kitchen.”

Jethro’s smile froze on his lips. “Why were you in the kitchen? Did Mrs Timms require such close supervision you felt it was necessary?”

Cassandra shook her head, a perplexed expression on her face. “I was not supervising Mrs Timms. She did not cook the soup or the sauce. I did.”

Annoyance bubbled up inside him. Here she was, lecturing him on the way a gentleman should behave, whilst she had been demeaning herself by working like a servant.

“Is that how a lady of quality usually spends her time? In the kitchen?” he asked, trying not to snap, but failing.

Her smile vanished, and Cassandra stared at him with such an uncertain look in her eyes that he regretted his harsh words.

“I’m sorry. I did not think…I did not know you would object. Since my father became ill, we were unable to afford a cook and so I have been used to spending a fair portion of my day in the kitchen, but if it is unacceptable to you—”

Of course it was unacceptable. He hadn’t married her to improve his diet. “It is. I will hire a cook to help Mrs Timms, if she is incapable of preparing the menus you deem necessary. She should not have asked for your assistance. There is no need for you to get your hands dirty doing menial work anymore.”

“Please do not blame your housekeeper. She did not ask for help—I volunteered. I hoped you would enjoy what I cooked as much as I enjoyed preparing it.”