"Maybe in the cupboard?" she suggested.
"An excellent idea. Let us have a look."
While the two of them rummaged through the cupboards, Ellie made a mad—but by necessity quiet— dash to the oven. She shot a glance over at her husband to make sure that he and Judith were still busy, and then quickly stuck her head inside.
She pulled back out just as quickly, but she'd had enough time to see that the oven rack had been reset in exactly the same position she'd put it in. "This is extremely strange," she muttered under her breath.
"Did you say something?" Charles called out without turning around.
"No," she lied. "Did you find the tarts?"
"No. I have a feeling the kitchen staff must have
polished them off this evening. But we did locate a rather tasty-looking cake with butter-cream frosting."
"Butter-cream, eh?" Ellie asked, growing quite interested.
"Mmm-hmm. I'm sure of it."
Ellie believed him as he had one of his fingers in his mouth.
"It's ever so good, Ellie," Judith chirped, plunking her finger down and scooping up a chunk of frosting.
"Aren't either of you going to eat the cake?" Ellie asked.
"No."
"Not I."
"That butter-cream frosting will make you both ill."
"Sadly so," Charles said, giving his finger another lick, "but oh, so very happy."
"Try some, Ellie," Judith said.
"Oh, all right. But only with a piece of cake."
"But that will ruin the effect," Charles said. "Judith and I were planning to strip the cake quite bare and leave a mystery for Monsieur Belmont in the morning."
"He will not be amused, I am sure," Ellie said.
"He is never amused."
"Charles is right," Judith added. "He is forever grumpy and likes to shout at me in French."
Charles held out a frosting-covered finger toward her. "Try it, Ellie. You know you want some."
Ellie turned beet red. His words sounded uncomfortably like those he'd uttered in her bedroom— when he'd been so handily seducing her. He moved his finger toward her lips, but she backed up before he could touch her mouth.
"Pity." he said. "I thought you were going to do it."
"Do what?" Judith asked.
"Nothing," Ellie ground out, and then just to show Charles that she wasn't a complete coward, she reached her finger out to his, scooped up some frosting, and ate it. "Oh, my," she uttered "That's delicious."
"I told you so," Judith said.
Ellie gave up any attempt at trying to be the dignified lady of the house. It took the three of them only two minutes to denude the entire cake.
Chapter 12
Ellie woke up the following morning feeling a bit more amicably disposed toward her husband. It was difficult to maintain a sense of disgust with a man who so obviously adored children.
So he didn't take marriage as seriously as she would have liked. That didn't necessarily make him a bad person. Irreverent, perhaps, but not bad, and after all those years with her father, Ellie was starting to think that irreverent might be kind of nice. Clearly Charles had a way to go before he would be a husband she could trust with her full heart and soul, but the previous evening's escapade with Judith at least gave her some hope that they might be able to make a decent go at their marriage.
Not that she had any plans to fall into his little trap and try to seduce him. Ellie had no doubt as to who would be in control in such a situation. A fat lot she knew about seduction. She could picture it easily. She'd lean in to give him a kiss—which was the extent of what she knew how to do, really, and within seconds the seducer would become the seduced.
But to be fair, Charles had held up his end of the marriage bargain. He had arranged Ellie's financial accounts to her satisfaction, and she was more than eager to get to work. Sometime during the night Charles had slipped a piece of paper under the connecting door with all of the information Ellie would need to take control of her finances. It was remarkably thoughtful of him to have remembered to do this, and Ellie resolved to think of this kindness every time she felt like strangling her new husband—an impulse whose frequency she hoped would decrease.
Ellie left to visit her new solicitor after eating a quick bite of breakfast. No toast, of course; Mrs. Stubbs steadfastly refused to make it, which Ellie thought was just a bit uppity for a housekeeper. But then again, if all she could expect was another brittle, charred square that looked as if it might once have originated from a loaf of bread, she wasn't certain it was worth the effort to argue about it.
Then Ellie remembered what she'd seen the night before. Someone had readjusted the stove to her specifications. If she knew what she was doing—and she was still confident she did—then the entire Wycombe household ought to be enjoying lovely toast slathered with lovely jam for the rest of their lives.
Ellie made a mental note to look into it when she returned.
Ellie's new solicitor was a middle-aged man named William Barnes, and it was apparent that Charles had made it very clear that his wife was in charge of her own finances. Mr. Barnes was politeness personified, and he even expressed a large measure of respect for Ellie's financial knowledge and acumen. When she instructed him to put half of her money into a conservative account and half into the risky cotton venture, he clucked approvingly at her appreciation of the value of diversification.
It was the first time Ellie had been able to claim credit for her financial expertise, and she found it a heady feeling, indeed. She liked being able to speak for herself and not having to begin each sentence with, "My father would like ..." or "It is my father's opinion that..."