She heard the giggling well before she pushed through the door. Then when she did cross the threshold, she saw Lord Sayres nose to nose with an upstairs maid. And while she watched in shock, he bent down even closer to her. Was he kissing her servant in the middle of the kitchen? While everyone else watched? There were more than a half dozen people in here.
“My lord!” she snapped, her voice higher and more shrill in her outrage. It startled her because she couldn’t remember ever hearing such a sound from her own mouth. It was a tone reserved for her mother. And yet, there was no ability to draw it back, especially as his chin jerked up in surprise while his cheeks tinged with red. But if he felt embarrassment, there was no trace of it in his voice or his sudden wide grin.
“Lady Gwen, you are here at last!”
At last? She’d only been told he was here two minutes ago. And yet, as she looked about the kitchen, she realized he must have been here for much longer. There was a large assortment of metal wares spread across the kitchen table. Several pots took up one side. The cook was carefully inspecting those. While the rest of the space was filled with smaller pieces, jewelry, and utensils. She saw every servant in the house except the butler all crowded around, inspecting things. And there, in the center, was Lord Sayres gesturing her to step into her own kitchen.
“Come take a look and give me your decision.”
On his kisses? She stood there, her feet immobile as she scrambled for words—any words—but nothing made sense. And when nothing made sense to her mind, every part of her locked up.
Meanwhile, he looked back down at the maid, gave her an approving nod, then stepped back, gently guiding the young woman to stand beside a line of their other maids and kitchen staff, including the cook.
“Lady Gwen?” he asked as he extended a hand to her. “Let me show you what we’ve been doing.”
“What?” she said, though the word was barely intelligible, especially as she spoke over another man who was in a boisterous conversation with the cook about a pot. There were so many people in here, she hadn’t noticed him at first, but his voice was certainly hard to ignore now. Lord, he was so loud!
“Yorgos! Hush now,” Lord Sayres admonished. “Sell your pots later. Lady Gwen is here to look at what you’ve done.”
The large man looked up from his pot with a wide grin. “Welcome, Lady Gwen. Welcome!”
And here was another man welcoming her to her own kitchen. But she didn’t have time to respond as Lord Sayres took her hand and gently tugged her forward.
“This is my friend, Mr. Yorgos Callatos.”
“Greetings, sir,” she said politely. Then she tried not to recoil as her grabbed her hand and kissed it with excessive enthusiasm. At least it felt excessive to her because she didn’t know him, and she wasn’t wearing gloves to blunt the feel of his calloused fingers.
“Stop that,” Lord Sayres chided, as he gently moved her to the far side of him while forcing his friend to step back. “She’s a lady who is not to be handled like one of your pots.”
“On the contrary,” the man said heartily. “I handle every one of my pieces as if it were a lady born. Such love I stroke into every peak and valley, such tender care—”
“As you strike it with your hammers,” Lord Sayres interrupted. “My apologies, Lady Gwen. Some time ago, I searched for the best metal worker in London. Little did I realize that this loud-mouthed brute could work magic with silver.”
“Not just with silver,” Mr. Callatos returned. “These hands have wrought beauty out of iron, turned disasters into delight, and reaped grateful kisses from—”
“Your wife and children.” Lord Sayres shot her a look. “He’s a terrible flirt, but a good man with a very patient wife.”
“She’s a good woman, my Eugenia.”
“But we’re here for Lady Gwen’s opinion.” He gestured to the line of women. “What do you think? They’re all so lovely, I can’t think what would work best.”
Think? She couldn’t think, not with him standing so close and her shoulders creeping up to her ears. He crowded her with his body, and though she had certainly enjoyed it at the dressmakers, right now she felt as if there were too many people making too much noise and pressing too close. Lord Sayres stepped toward her and she cringed backwards. She didn’t mean to, but it happened anyway, and she saw his brows shoot up in surprise.
He stayed back then, but he still seemed to herd her in the direction he wanted. Not by touching, but by leaning in enough that she adjusted back. And then, when she apparently stood where he wanted, he gestured to a line of her female staff who all looked rosy cheeked as they tittered.
He wanted her to pick one of her servants? For what purpose? After he’d already been kissing one in full view of everyone?
“I didn’t have one of the flowers with me,” he continued, “so I don’t know about this one. Is it wide enough?” He gestured at Betsy, their kitchen maid. “And this is lovely, but perhaps too delicate.” He pointed to the cook who was anything but delicate. “I think this one would take too much time to make, but we only need a few at first.”
He was pointing down the row of women, gesturing to their bosoms in a most indelicate way. She had no idea what he was talking about, and it upset her to be so confused. So she dug in her feet and stepped away from his distracting presence. And when she was two full steps away from him, she drew herself up to her full height and spoke as calmly as she could manage.
“Please explain.” Two words, and she meant no insult. She was overwhelmed by all the noise and commotion when she was already in an unsettled state from before. She didn’t speak overly loud, and neither did she yell. But when she was done, an uncomfortable silence settled on the entire kitchen. The maids stopped giggling, Cook regarded her with a stern expression, and even the grinning Mr. Callatos stopped smiling. And worst of all, the footmen took the moment to step backwards out of the room. She was sure the women would have left too, but they were lined up in front of her and couldn’t go anywhere.
The only one who didn’t seem annoyed with her was Lord Sayres, whose brows arched with surprise, but his smile never faded. Instead, he dipped his chin.
“My apologies, Lady Gwen. I’m afraid I got so wrapped up in what we were doing that I didn’t properly set the scene.” He stepped even further back from her as he gestured to the wares on the kitchen table. Grabbing the smallest piece, he held aloft a dress pin vase. It was suitable for the tiniest posies as it might adorn a petite woman’s dress. “Mr. Callatos fashions pins, among other things. I asked him if he had anything that might work for our daffodils.”
Finally, something she could say. “That is too small.”