Page 54 of Wed By Proxy

“The water’s boiling,” he said, peering over the edge of the bubbling pot. Mathilde looked back at him blankly. “That means you can add the eggs,” he told her, then smiled and shook his head.

“What is it? Why do you look like that?” she asked, as she fetched the eggs from the side.

“No reason. You need to lower those eggs into the water on a spoon,” he recommended. “If you drop them in, you’ll crack them on the bottom of the pot.”

“Oh.” She went in search of a spoon, instead of a knife. “I’m glad you’re here, or I would be making a sad mess of this. How is it,” she asked slowly, “that you know so much about cooking?”

“Soldiering campaigns,” he answered shortly.

“Oh.” She was always stumbling onto the sore subject of the war, she thought with a wince. Shooting a sideways look at him, she found he was still observing her as she carefully lowered an egg into the water. “Like that?”

“Perfect.”

She smiled at him, pleased with herself. “Three more to go,” she said cheerfully.

“Where does Patience keep the butter?”

“Prudence,” she corrected him. “The pantry again, I would have thought. She doesn’t give me free reign,” she admitted.

“I wonder why,” he murmured, as he went in search of the butter.

She gave the matter some consideration. “I can’t think,” she admitted, “for I like it here in the kitchen very much.”

“Doubtless it’s the novelty.” His tone was dry.

“Maybe I should ask Prudie to teach me how to make bread. It would help while away the time when you’re not here.”

He paused in the act of crossing the room. “What pastimes are you usually employed with?” he asked.

“Oh, tapestry, mostly. I have my own loom.”

“Why did you not say? I could order you one for here.”

“Oh, would you?” In truth, she did not feel terribly enthusiastic about returning to her usual occupations. Somehow, learning new things had been much more exciting. The second egg precipitately rolled off the edge of her spoon and thudded hard against the bottom of the pan. “Oh!” she looked up at Guy in some trepidation. “What happens if I crack it?”

“You’ll soon see.”

Gazing down, Mathilde watched white ribbons escaping from the edges of the cracked shell into the boiling water. “Oh bother! That one can be mine,” she said guiltily.

Unexpectedly, he laughed. A squeak on the stair alerted them someone else was about. They both turned and saw Prudence on the stairs brandishing a poker. Seeing it was them, she exhaled a sigh of relief.

“I thought we had intruders, milady!” she exclaimed. “Why, whatever are you—?”

“We’re relieving you of your duties for an hour,” Guy interrupted. “While I teach the Lady Mathilde how to boil an egg.”

“Whyever should she need to?” Prude asked, bristling.

“Lord Martindale is teaching me some of his soldiering skills,” Mathilde said, keen to soothe any ruffled feathers.

“Oh,” the maid said looking slightly mollified. “I see.” She eyed Guy suspiciously.

“Do sit down, Prudie. We’ve lit the fire and fetched the eggs,” she added. “What else must we do?”

Prudie looked from one to the other. “Fetch the water from the well,” she said promptly. “And set the water on to boil for washing.”

“We will all wash after we’ve had eggs,” put in Guy firmly.

Prudie pursed her lips but said nothing. Mathilde stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on adding the eggs to the bubbling water. “I did it!” she said happily, turning a blind eye to the white mess that was the second egg.