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Evelyn laughed softly at this sally. “A carrot from a parsnip… well, they are both root crops and they are more or less the same shape.”

“But definitely not the same flavor,” Mr. Rudge beamed at her. “You catch on quick. I would bet that you know your way around the inside of a kitchen.”

“To some degree, yes. But the things I cook certainly do not turn out the same way as yours.”

As they entered the upper halls, they both fell silent. The Dower House was largely empty, with only a few servants and the dowager in residence. But the Duke had been spending the night, of late, so none of the serving maids went about alone.

The Duchess greeted them with a smile. “You helped her carry the tray up, Mr. Rudge. What a dear boy. What do you have for me tonight?”

“A blancmange with candied mint leaves, and golden milk,” Mr. Rudge replied. “I was glad to carry it up. Those stairs are tricky when one is carrying a tray at night.”

“Always so thoughtful. Do you know that the maids always have good things to say about you, Mr. Rudge?”

“Do they? I am sure I would not know. I am glad to have their good regard.”

“Yes, indeed. Do you mind if I taste before you go?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Rudge replied. “I hope it is to your liking.”

The dowager took up her spoon, and dipped it into the confection, then she nibbled a little of one of the mint leaves. “Perfection,” she pronounced. “It takes genius to make blancmange taste like anything, and this is divine. Thank you so much for bringing it up.”

Mr. Rudge apparently knew a dismissal when he heard one, for he bowed and said, “I am glad you like it.Bon appetite, Your Grace. Good night.”

After he had withdrawn, the Duchess continued to spoon up the treat. When the last of the blancmange was eaten and the final sip of golden milk gone, she said, “That makes my poor tummy feel calm and satisfied. How he makes the dishes my physician recommends palatable I shall never know, but I am infinitely grateful.”

“He does seem to be an excellent cook. And the maids do, indeed, speak well of him,” Evelyn observed.

“Quite so,” said the Duchess. “What do you think of him, my dear?”

“He seems exceptionally amiable without being forward or pushing,” she replied. “I do not know him well, but from our few encounters, I find him to be a person of good sense, with a kindly attitude toward others.”

For a moment she wondered how a cook could develop such a well-muscled form, and such grace. But perhaps he had been something else before he was a cook. A gymnast, she thought idly, or he could even have been a dancer. In all events, not her business.

She put him firmly out of her mind and set about the small chores needed while the Duchess’ maid helped her prepare for bed. But a tiny seed of thought had lodged in her mind. As she closed her eyes that night, she could see again the graceful stretch of muscle as Mr. Rudge reached up to take the dessert out of the cupboard, and the well-bred timbre of his voice as he gracefully accepted the Duchess’ thanks.

Foolish, completely foolish,she chided herself.Go to sleep, Evelyn. Tomorrow will be another long day.

Chapter 9

Evelyn hurried down the steps to the kitchen, carrying the two trays with the empty dishes from the Duchess’ late-night snack atop them. At the bottom, her steps slowed. What could she say to Mr. Rudge? Thank you seemed banal, and begged the question of what she was thanking him for. Was it for deceiving their employer? Offering a distraction? Either could apply, yet both suggested wrongdoing on the Duke’s part. Thank you for carrying the trays? For taking such good care of the Duchess and her needs? None of it seemed quite right.

Nonetheless, she continued on, for the trays and dishes must go back to the kitchen.

As she opened the door, she beheld an astonishing sight. Mr. Rudge seemed to be battling an unseen opponent. He leaped into the air delivering what would have been a lethal kick had anyone been standing before him. He came down in a graceful roll that had him facing the opposite direction. Immediately he began punching and poking at his unseen adversary, sometimes with fist, sometimes with the tips of his fingers. His face was wild, as if belonging to someone demented.

“Mr. Rudge?” Evelyn called timidly.

Mr. Rudge halted mid-lunge, drawing himself back into a semblance of civilized order. “Mrs. Swinton! I hope I did not startle you. I am merely engaging in a little shadow boxing. It keeps me in good form, you see. I must do something to work off all the tasting I do during a day.”

Evelyn recovered her equanimity, swallowed and said, “That was quite impressive. I am very glad not to be your adversary.”

Mr. Rudge shrugged a little diffidently. “I have never had occasion to use it for real. I learned it from the same gentleman from the East who recommended the turmeric milk. Here, let me take those trays. You should have rung, and I would have sent someone up for them.”

“I wanted an excuse to speak with you, Mr. Rudge. I wanted to thank you for distracting the Duke today.”

Mr. Rudge sighed. “The Duke is a fine gentleman in every sense of the word. As such, he cannot imagine why a kitchen maid or even a companion would not welcome his attentions. While not all peers behave so, our Duke has a certain reputation. The Duchess is completely blind to it, of course. Your predecessor succumbed to his charms, and when she came up in the family way, the Duchess dismissed her as a matter of course.”

“Oh, dear! What became of her?”