Cleo chuckled. “Nor was I. How long do you think we have until she returns?”
“I dinnae ken with that list she is toting around, but there is nae enough time in the world tae prepare for what she has planned for ye, lass. Sit ye down and I will get ye something tae eat. One should nae have tae go in tae battle weak from hunger.”
Cleo chuckled again and sat down at the table in the kitchen. It was not the accepted place for the mistress of the house to be eating, but Cleo did not care. She needed the warm strength of her friend and compatriot to get through the day ahead. “So, the Earl of Dustshore will be paying call, I understand?”
“Aye, he will for tea, but if yer aunt has her say, he will be staying for supper as well.”
“He is a handsome sort; I will give Aunt Caroline that.”
“Aye, he is, but so is that Irondale, and he is a Scotsman.”
Cleo smiled at the note of national pride in the cook’s voice. “He is at that,” she agreed. In truth, he was the most beautiful man that she had ever seen, but she was not about to admit that to Mrs. McGrath or anyone else for that matter. “Father liked him very much.”
“Aye, he did. He thought o’ Irondale as a son o’ sorts, he told me more than once.”
“I wonder why he never brought any of his friends or colleagues home with him for dinner or a chat?” Cleo mused.
“I dinnae ken, but I was glad tae be spared the extra work o’ it. I have had my hands full enough with caring for the two o’ ye and yer other wee lassies who come tae call.”
Cleo smiled affectionately at the cook. “And such a fine job you made of it too.”
Mrs. McGrath flushed with pleasure at the compliment and patted Cleo on the shoulder as she sat down a bowl of honeyed porridge in front of her. “Now eat yer parritch afore it gets cold.”
“Should I go after her?” Cleo gave a glance at the front door in trepidation. “There is a strong possibility that she will need help carrying everything.”
“Nae, if she is going tae continue in this way. Perhaps it will teach her a lesson nae tae be doing more than she should be without asking those concerned first.”
Cleo smiled, shaking her head. “Perhaps she will settle in time.”
“Aye, we can only hope.” Mrs. McGrath returned to work, attempting to undo the mess that Aunt Caroline had made of the pantry. “If the lass is so fond o’ husbands, perhaps she should find herself one,” she grumbled under her breath as she worked.
Cleo grinned. “Perhaps there is something in that thought.”
Mrs. McGrath poked her head out of the pantry. “Do ye ken someone appropriate for the lass?”
Cleo laughed. “I think that you are the only person that I have ever met other than my father who still calls my aunt a lass.” She gave the proposition some thought. “Perhaps one of my father’s former colleagues might be appropriate for Aunt Caroline.”
“The lass has been alone far tae long and needs a husband tae be taking care o’ or she is going tae ne’er leave ye be about finding a lad tae wed ye.”
Cleo sighed, shaking her head. “It is something to consider sending a suitor to court her if only to keep her from interfering in the quest to find Father’s murderer.”
They both fell into silence, each seeing to their own tasks but thinking about how they were going to manage their new living situation. After breaking the fast, Cleo went into her father’s study and sat down to stare at the translated Caesar Cipher. She pulled all of her father’s Arthurian books and papers back out of the crate and scanned the pages for any mention of swallowing fire but found none.
The sound of thumping in the hall signaled that Aunt Caroline had returned. Cleo quickly gathered up everything that she had been working on and shoved it back into the crate. Leaving the study, Cleo joined her aunt in the hall to find a young boy bumping along down the hallway carrying packages piled so high that he could not see over them.
“Take them to the kitchen,” Aunt Caroline instructed him as she followed close behind him, her own pile of packages in hand. “Oh, Cleo, good, you are here. Please show the shop boy where to take the packages. We have much to do before the Earl of Dustshore arrives.” Caroline dumped all of the packages that she was carrying into Cleo’s arms and sighed as if she had just relieved herself of a great burden, then floated back out of the door without further explanation.
“Where is she going now?” Cleo inquired of the empty air.
“I dinnae ken, but much more o’ this and it will nae fit in the kitchen,” Mrs. McGrath answered, taking the brown paper packaged items from the boy.
“If she is gone much longer, she is going to miss tea with the Earl of Dustshore, and he is coming by her invitation.”
“Aye, but he is coming tae see ye, is he nae,” Mrs. McGrath reminded her with an arched brow, though the reminder was not needed.
“I do believe that that is Aunt Caroline’s intention as she has made no show of hiding the fact that she wishes me to marry the Earl, but I cannot say that she finds me a willing party, as you well know.”
“Aye, I ken it well enough, but I would nae put it past her tae make ye be the one tae entertain the Earl on yer own as a part o’ her ploy.”
