Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion

He didn’t know what to say. She’d been through so much. So bravely. And all on her own. And here he’d been, half expecting her to throw a tantrum like some spoiled society miss.

He pushed his empty plate to one side.

‘Come on, let’s go and see about somewhere to sleep.’

‘But I need to wash the dishes....’

‘Leave ’em. Plenty more about the place, I’m sure. So we can have clean ones in the morning. The staff can do the washing up when they get back. That’s what I pay ’em for.’ He went round the table and pulled her to her feet. ‘I’m glad you’ve pitched in and put a meal together, but I draw the line at you washing dishes.’

‘I’ll just stack them in the scullery, then.’

‘Very well.’

‘I think,’ she said, with a shy smile, ‘that I’m going to like being Lady Havelock.’

‘What! After this?’

‘I have always hated washing up,’ she said, wiping her hands and tossing her apron aside. ‘It’s wonderful to just do the things I enjoy and leave the unpleasant tasks to others.’

Wonderful? From his point of view, it was wonderful she could describe any part of this evening in positive terms. ‘Glad to hear it,’ he said, tucking her arm into his and leading her up the stairs.

‘This way,’ he said, tugging her to the left and pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket.

He proudly flung open the double doors at the head of the stairs.

‘The master bedroom,’ he said. Then reeled back, coughing, at the musty smell that wafted out to greet him.

‘It doesn’t look as if anyone has used this room for years,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

‘About a dozen, I suspect,’ he groaned. ‘I seem to recall the trustees saying something about only letting the tenants use certain rooms. I should have realised this one would be one of the ones out of bounds.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. The Dog and Ferret was looking more appealing by the minute.

‘Well, let us find a room that has been in use more recently and is a bit better aired,’ she said, stepping smartly back into the corridor.

‘What a good job you thought of coming down to look the place over before telling your sister she could come to live here,’ she said brightly, after they’d inspected several more rooms and found them in a similar state to the master suite. ‘I’m going to have my work cut out, getting it ready for her return.’

Not if he could help it. He’d hire an army of servants to scrub and clean this place from top to bottom. Hang the expense. He wasn’t going to have her working her fingers to the bone on his account.

* * *

Mary was just beginning to think they would have to go back to the kitchen, after all, when Lord Havelock opened the door to a room that didn’t reek of damp and mice.

‘It doesn’t strike so cold in here, does it?’ he said, stepping over the threshold. ‘I’ll tell you what it is,’ he said sagely, as she lifted the corner of a cover that shrouded an item of furniture that turned out to be a bed. ‘Right at the end of the corridor, here, the room faces south. It must get the sun all day. Bound to keep it drier than the others, which face west or east.’

‘Even so, I’m not too sure we can use this bed,’ she said, lifting the cover higher to reveal a rolled-up mattress at the end of the frame.

He sighed. ‘The bedding at the Dog and Ferret may have been dirty and damp, but at least there would have been some.’

‘We could air the mattress for a while in front of the fire, once we get it lit,’ she suggested. ‘And we can use our coats, and what have you, for bedding. Just for one night. If...if you wouldn’t mind fetching our luggage.’

‘I’ll do that,’ he said. Then, as he passed her, he swept her into his arms and gave her a swift, hard kiss. ‘You think of everything.’

Well, in the past, she’d had to. She wouldn’t have got as far as Aunt Pargetter, if she hadn’t had the sense to track down the lawyer who’d dealt with her father’s affairs.

But, only fancy, now she was telling her husband, a peer of the realm no less, how to deal with the situation in which they found themselves. And sending him off on an errand.

She wouldn’t have believed it, if someone had told her, even a few weeks ago, that she’d have the courage.

But it came easily to her, with Lord Havelock, she mused, kneeling on the hearth to see if she could get the fire going. In fact, as she set a taper to the wadded-up paper in the grate, she decided she was going to ask him to fetch some more coal, when he came back with their luggage. For there were only a few dusty coals sitting on top of the kindling, and only a handful more in the scuttle. And she really didn’t think he’d mind.

Thanks heavens she’d decided to make the best of things, rather than nursing her grievances. What was the point, after all, of dwelling on past mistakes, when he was clearly making such an effort with her now? He’d been an attentive companion during the journey, apologised profusely for the state of the house and even carried her over the threshold—a romantic gesture that had taken her completely by surprise. Not that she was going to read too much into it.

She didn’t care that circumstances were far from ideal. They were making a much better job of being married than her parents ever had, with each blaming the other for everything that went wrong and neither of them lifting a finger to do anything about it.

She put her hand to her lips, which were still tingling from his last kiss, a great surge of hope rising up in her heart.

‘How are you getting on?’ said Lord Havelock as he came back to the room with one of her cases and one of his.

She opened her mouth to thank him for being so even-handed, rather than just bringing up his own cases first. But the moment he’d opened the door a cloud of smoke came billowing into the room instead of going up the chimney, making her cough and wipe at her streaming eyes.

‘Now I can see,’ he said, shutting the door hastily, ‘why this room was never occupied by the family, in spite of the view. It looks as though it has one of those fires that sends more smoke into the room than up the chimney.’

‘It doesn’t seem to be drawing very well,’ she said. ‘I just thought the chimney was probably a bit damp.’

‘No. I’ve just remembered something. I never understood it before, but it was so odd, that it stuck in my mind,’ he said, striding to the window. ‘Nobody ever lit the fire in here without shutting that door and opening this window first.’

He turned the handle and pushed at the casement. It didn’t budge.

‘Stuck,’ he said gloomily. ‘Frame is probably warped with damp. Will probably need to get a lot of the frames shaved,’ he said, giving it another, harder shove, ‘or replaced.’

Suddenly, the window gave. Only not just the casement, but the hinges, too. His entire top half disappeared through the opening for a moment while a gust of wind whooshed in.

The smoke curled in on itself and got sucked up the chimney while flames finally started dancing across the sluggish kindling.

Lord Havelock hauled himself upright and staggered away from the window. He was sopping wet. And swearing fluently at the segment of window frame he was still clutching in his hand.

‘You...you...’ She pressed her hand to her mouth. But it was no use. She couldn’t suppress the torrent of giggles fizzing up inside.

‘You are quite...’ she managed shakily. ‘Quite right, the fire d-does draw better with the window...the window...’ Finally rendered speechless with laughter, she pointed at the frame dangling from his hand.

‘You think this is funny?’

She nodded, completely unable to frame any words for the laughter bubbling over.

With a low growl, he spun away from her, wedged the window frame back in place and thumped it home with several strategic blows from his large, powerful fists.

Strange, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the demonstration of raw masculine frustration. If that had been her father, now, she would have been crouching lower, keeping her eyes down, her head bowed. Anything and everything to render herself small and invisible.

But Lord Havelock wasn’t cast from the same mould as her father. He might be hot-tempered, but he wasn’t bad-tempered. And that made all the difference.

As if to prove the point, the second he’d mended the window as well as he could, he strode across the room, dropped to his knees beside her and draped one arm about her shoulders.

‘You’re a good sport,’ he said brusquely, before planting a kiss on her temple. ‘I know I’ve said it before, but you must be the only woman alive who would see the funny side, rather than ripping up at me.’

He took the poker from the set of fire irons and started pushing the coals into more strategic positions.

‘So far today you’ve had to skivvy like a kitchen maid and now you’re going to have to sleep in conditions that are tantamount to camping out.’

Whatever must the women in his past have been like, to carp over such trifles as that? No wonder he’d been so reluctant to get married, if that was his expectation of female behaviour.

‘All I really asked of you was a room of my own, in whichever of your properties I happened to be,’ she countered. ‘We never specified it should have fully f-functioning, w-windows...’ And suddenly she couldn’t quite stifle another bout of giggles as she recalled the look on his face when the whole thing had come away in his hands. ‘Or f-furniture of any kind, come to that.’

‘Like I said, a good sport,’ he said, smiling at her with approval.

‘What would be the point of ripping up at you, over something as silly as this? You didn’t mean me any harm. It’s just...’ She reached up and cupped his cheek.

‘Oh—you are so cold. You must get out of those wet things at once.’

His smile turned a shade wicked.

‘Now that’s what a man likes to hear from his bride. An invitation to get out of his clothing and into—’ He stopped short. ‘Only, hang it, we haven’t actually got a bed to get into.’

‘It won’t take long,’ she said, a touch breathlessly, ‘to make one up.’

He tossed the poker aside and gave her a look that made her heart leap behind her breastbone.

‘In fact, all we need to do...’

‘Yes?’

‘Is to bring the mattress over here and unroll it in front of the fire.’

‘Brilliant notion,’ he said, dropping a swift kiss on her cheek.

As she went to open their cases, he ripped off his damp jacket and shirt and tossed them into a corner. Her mouth dried at the sight of his naked torso. Though she was supposed to be selecting the items of clothing most suited to form bedding, she just grabbed handfuls at random, unable to keep her eyes straying from the sight of him wrestling the mattress into submission. In the end, it happened to be a couple of his shirts and her spare petticoat that she spread over the mattress, and heaven alone knew what she had wadded up into makeshift pillows.

They fell to the mattress together, lips meeting and locking in a heated kiss.

She ran her hands up and down the smooth, sleek muscles of his back as he rolled her beneath him. And moaned with pleasure when he grabbed a handful of her skirts and pushed them up out of the way.

‘Lord,’ he groaned, ‘we should slow this down, somehow. You are so new at this.’

No! He couldn’t stop now. Not when she needed him so badly.

‘We can go slow next time, if you like. But please...’ She shifted her hips impatiently.

‘Next time, she says,’ he growled into her neck. ‘Do you know what it does to a man, hearing the woman he’s taking, promising him there will be a next time?’

‘No....’

‘Of course you don’t, my little innocent. That’s what makes you so adorable.’

Adorable? He thought she was adorable? Well, she thought he was adorable, too. She hugged him hard, on a wave of tenderness.

‘And I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to, believe me,’ he assured her.

‘Good.’ She half sighed, half moaned, as he slid his hand, and with it her skirts, all the way up to her waist.

‘Oh, God,’ he moaned, exploring her with his fingers. ‘You are so ready for me. I can’t believe it. I don’t deserve you.’ He raised himself up to claw open the fall of his breeches. ‘I don’t deserve,’ he said, thrusting home, ‘this.’

It was heavenly. She knew the pleasure he could bring this time, and instead of lying back and letting him do all the work, she became an equal participant, striving to reach the finishing line alongside him. And this time, instead of a soft, gentle burst of pleasure, it was like a thousand rockets going off inside her, all at once. Shattering. Sparkling. Satisfying. So satisfying. She clutched at him, stroking his back as he settled over her, his face buried in her neck.

‘Mary,’ he growled after a moment or two. ‘Mary?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I know I said you could always have a room of your own,’ he said plaintively. ‘But I hope you’re not going to insist I find somewhere else tonight.’

‘You must be joking,’ she said. ‘I will need you to keep me warm.’

When he would have rolled off her, she clung on.

‘Not so fast.’

He half rose up to look down into her face.

‘You mean, now I can take it slowly?’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ she protested.

But with a wicked grin, he reached down between them and began to toy with her, just where their bodies were still joined.

She gasped. ‘I didn’t know... Can you do it all over again?’

‘It seems that with you, I can. You are an astonishing woman.’

‘Me?’ She looked up at him, perplexed. Though she couldn’t meet his eye for very long, not when he was doing what he was doing.

‘Oohh,’ she groaned.

‘Oh, indeed,’ he agreed. And wrapped her legs round his waist.

Chapter Nine

She didn’t know what woke her, but the moment she did so, she knew she was alone. And the place where her husband had been was cold.

She could hear windows rattling somewhere, chimneys moaning as the wind protested its inability to get in. The fire had died down considerably, but it still cast a dim glow over the room. She snuggled down further into the pile of clothing that had become her bed, marvelling that she could feel so calm, that the sounds of the storm raging outside only made her feel more secure.

She’d never known this. This complete faith that she was safe. There’d always been a feeling of dread hanging over her, as far back as she could remember. But it had gone now.

She rather thought it had started to lift the moment Lord Havelock had slid his ring on to her finger.

She heard the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, then, as she turned her head towards the door, she saw her husband, wearing nothing but his breeches and boots.

‘D-didn’t mean to w-wake you,’ he stammered through chattering teeth. ‘Had to f-fetch more c-coal.’ He dumped the bucket he’d been carrying and tossed several shovelfuls of coal on to the fire.

‘You must be frozen,’ she said, noting the goosebumps all over his back.

‘That’s p-putting it m-mildly.’

‘Why on earth didn’t you put your coat on?’

‘What, and rob you of your b-blank-kets?’ He shook his head, a scowl darkening his features.

It might be cold in the house, but her heart felt as if it was melting. What a perfectly wonderful thing for him to do. She sniffed back a welling tear. He was such a chivalrous man.

‘B-besides,’ he added as he came back to the bed, ‘you’ll soon warm me up.’

With a growl, he burrowed under the mound of clothing, then wrapped his arms and legs round her as though she was his own personal hot-water bottle.

She couldn’t help shrieking as an ice-cold hand slid inside the bodice of her chemise.

‘Mmmhh.’ He half sighed, half groaned. ‘You feel wonderful.’

‘Ow! You don’t,’ she yelped as he ran a cold foot up her calf.

‘Is that any way to thank me for going all that way to fetch coal? Come on, Mary,’ he murmured, burying a cold nose into her neck. ‘Don’t you think I’ve earned a reward?’

He had. He definitely had. But just as she started to tell him so, his cold hands had her dissolving into giggles. He kept on searching for particularly sensitive places, tormenting her until she was begging for mercy.

He ignored her pleas, ruthlessly turning her giggles into moans of pleasure, her wriggling to escape into writhing to get closer. Pretty soon, neither of them felt the slightest bit cold. Together, they stoked up the fires of passion until it consumed them both in a blaze of wonderful completion.

* * *

It was daylight stuttering in through the broken window that brought Mary awake the next morning. With a contented sigh, she snuggled into her husband’s side and put an arm round his waist.

‘Thank God you’re awake at last,’ he said. ‘For the past half hour, at least, I’ve been so hungry I’ve even started to wonder what coal tastes like.’

‘You are awake?’ But he’d been so still. ‘You should have woken me.’

He traced one finger over her creased brow. ‘You looked so peaceful lying there. So...lovely, with the firelight flickering over your hair. I could quite happily have stayed here all day, admiring you....’

Why was he saying that, when they both knew she wasn’t the slightest bit pretty? He’d even made a point of saying it didn’t matter.

Need not be pretty.

She’d been lying there, feeling warm and contented, and grateful that marrying him had brought her into a cosy shelter from the storms of life, and with one careless remark he’d brought that horrid list to the forefront of her mind.

‘If only we had someone to bring us breakfast up here,’ he finished ruefully.

That was more like it. She preferred honest, even mundane, conversation, as long as he didn’t try to...to soft-soap her with the kind of meaningless, insincere flattery that was an insult to her intelligence.

‘Since we don’t,’ she said with a stiff smile, ‘we will just have to go down and make it ourselves.’

‘By which you mean you will conjure up something, while I am obliged to watch from the sidelines,’ he grumbled, sitting up and rummaging through their bedding until he came across a shirt. ‘You shouldn’t have to do it all,’ he said, pulling the shirt over his head, while she reached for the least crumpled item of clothing she could find. ‘I may not know my way round a kitchen, but surely I could spare you some of the heavy work? Heaving coal, or hauling water, or something?’

Once again, she was glad she’d kept her brief spurt of annoyance to herself. He might have his faults, but at least he was willing to pitch in and help, rather than leaving her to struggle alone.

And he’d certainly got the muscles for it, she reflected, watching his beautiful back flex and stretch as he thrust his arms into the sleeves.

‘If you are sure, then...thank you.’

The smile that blazed across his face had the strange effect of making her want to pull him straight back down on to the mattress.

Just because he’d smiled at her? How...weak and pathetic did that make her? Rather shaken by the strength of the feelings he could rouse, without, apparently, even trying, she pulled on her dress.

Only to feel her insides turn to mush when he took her hand as they ventured out of their room into a corridor that was so cold their breath misted in the air in great clouds. He kept it clasped firmly in his all the way to the kitchen. If she’d wanted to retrieve it, she would have had a struggle. And there didn’t seem much point in taking objection to such a harmless demonstration of affection.

Affection! No, it couldn’t be that. He’d specifically warned her not to go looking for affection.

‘What would you like me to do first?’ he asked when they reached the kitchen. ‘Fetch more coal? Or wood?’

She’d rather he stopped being so amazing, she thought crossly. So she wouldn’t be tempted to forget this was supposed to be a practical arrangement. Or start thinking that gestures such as carrying her over the threshold, or holding her hand, or saying she was adorable, were just the sort of things that went on in a love match.

‘Whichever you prefer.’ She sighed, going to the stove and kneeling to rake out the ashes. ‘The log basket does need filling,’ she admitted. The sooner she set him to work, the sooner she’d get back into a sensible frame of mind. Rather than wondering what it would be like if they were really lovers, stranded here alone. Or how romantic it would seem to have a lord chopping wood and hauling water while she sat indoors in the warm...

She shook her head. She needed to stay focused on practicalities, not drift off into stupid daydreams.

‘We will need quite a lot of water. This stove has a place where you can pour it, to heat, and then we can draw it off from this tap here, see, whenever we want some.’

‘Ingenious,’ he said. And then his stomach rumbled.

And she recalled him lying quietly, so as not to disturb her, even though he’d jested he was hungry enough to try the coal.

‘There is no rush,’ she said, ashamed of constantly getting annoyed with him when, in his own way, he was clearly doing his best. ‘There is enough wood to get the fire hot enough to put the breakfast rolls in. Why don’t you help yourself to some of that ham we had last night while I fetch them?’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ She got up, dusted her knees and smiled at him. ‘No point in setting you to work on an empty stomach.’

He didn’t need telling twice before he’d got the ham out of the larder and carved himself a huge slice.

* * *

‘I had no idea,’ he said, much later, once breakfast was ready and they could both sit down together, ‘that so much work was involved in just throwing a bit of breakfast together. And do you know, I don’t think I’ll be half so impatient about getting served in inns, after this. When I think of some of the insults I’ve heaped on waiters, when I’ve come in, sharp set...’ He shook his head ruefully, before breaking open a roll and slathering it with butter.

He groaned, half closing his eyes as if in ecstasy.

‘That has to be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re a marvel.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m no marvel. You are simply very, very hungry. I don’t suppose you would think a simple bread roll would be all that delicious if you weren’t.’

‘That may be part of it,’ he agreed, reaching for another roll, a faint frown furrowing his forehead. ‘Perhaps I have fallen into the habit of taking such simple things for granted. But I shan’t any longer. And as for—’

He’d just reached across the table to take her hand when there came a knock at the back door.

Muttering under his breath, Lord Havelock strode across the room to answer the knock while she stood up and whipped off her apron.

‘Mornin’,’ said a short, wiry man who was knuckling his forehead.

‘Gilbey! Where the devil,’ snapped her husband, ‘have you been?’

He then, belatedly, seemed to recall she was there. ‘Pardon my language,’ he said perfunctorily, over his shoulder at her, before waving his arm in her direction.

‘My wife, Lady Havelock,’ he said to the wiry man, who’d sidled in out of the cold.

Out of habit, Mary dropped a curtsy, causing the wiry man’s shaggy eyebrows to shoot up his forehead.

‘This is my groom,’ said her husband with a touch of impatience. ‘You don’t need to curtsy to such as him. Now, you, explain yourself,’ he snapped, turning his attention back to the wiry man too quickly to notice Mary flinch.

How could he reprove her like that? In the man’s hearing?

‘I expected to find you, and, more important, Lady and Lightning, in the stables when I got here last night,’ snapped Lord Havelock.

‘Well, when I got here yesterday, me lord, seeing as how there was nobody about, and the stables deserted, I thought it best to take them, and your chestnuts, to the nearest inn, make sure they was taken proper care of, like. And see if I could find out what was afoot here. Brought ’em back as soon as I’d made sure there would be proper provisions for them and knew as you’d arrived yourself.’

‘Hmmph,’ said Lord Havelock and stalked out into the yard, the groom trotting behind in his wake.

Mary stood looking at the door for a moment or two, her mouth hanging open. Where had his appetite gone? He’d been complaining of hunger ever since they awoke. So hungry he’d even joked about trying the coal. But the moment he heard his horses had arrived they’d driven every other thought from his mind.

He must care about them a lot, she decided, closing first her mouth, then the kitchen door through which he’d just vanished without a backward glance. She should have picked up on the clues the day before, when he admitted he’d had them travel by stages so as not to tire them, though he’d pushed her into making the entire journey in one go. And the way his face had fallen when she’d admitted she couldn’t ride.

Which told her two things. First, he must have thought about going out riding with her. Not only thought about it, but looked forward to it, or he wouldn’t have looked so disappointed.

And second, that she’d been right about his character. Even though Lord Havelock had looked as angry as she’d ever seen him, the groom hadn’t seemed the slightest bit scared of the way he’d shouted. He’d just stood there letting her husband rant a bit, then stated his case clearly.

And her husband had listened.

Just as he’d listened to her, when she’d stood up to him over the matter of their betrothal. He’d scared her a bit, back then, the way his anger had blown up seemingly out of nowhere. But it had blown out just as swiftly.

Not that it excused him rebuking her in front of a third party. Her father had exercised that particular form of cruelty towards her mother, whittling her sense of worth down, insult by insult, until there had been nothing left but splinters.

Well, she wasn’t going to let her husband do the same to her. Not that she really thought he was doing it deliberately.

Nevertheless, she needed to take a stand, now, so that he would learn she wouldn’t tolerate such treatment.

She strode to the dresser and took down another cup to set on the table. Outside staff generally came into the kitchen for their meals. Since there was nobody else to provide them, she would have to take on the task of feeding the groom.

Even if her husband disapproved of her sitting at table with him.

Well, she didn’t care if he did think she was committing yet another social faux pas by extending common humanity to the poor wretch, the way he’d done when she’d dropped that curtsy.

Lifting her chin, she strode to the table and placed the cup down firmly before one of the empty chairs. She half hoped he did disapprove of her willingness to hobnob with a lowly groom. She went back to the dresser and picked up a plate, a knife and a fork with a toss of her head. For then he’d discover that he had most definitely not married a mouse.

She set about preparing such a substantial meal that it was bound to earn his forgiveness, once she’d shown him that he couldn’t get away with trying to browbeat her in front of servants.

* * *

‘You were right,’ said Lord Havelock, the moment he came back into the kitchen. She glanced up from the stove to assess his mood, before reaching for the kettle.

‘Was I?’ She poured water into the pot, noting that her hands were shaking as she braced herself to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. ‘What about?’

She couldn’t see any sign of the anger that had driven him out to the stables, which must mean he was pleased with the condition of his horses, and had forgiven the groom for not being on hand the night before. She just hoped he’d be as quick to forgive her.

‘About the caretaker and his wife. Gilbey found out— Stop loitering there in the doorway, man,’ he barked at the groom over his shoulder. ‘Come in and shut it before you let all the heat out,’ he said, depriving her of the opportunity of inviting him in herself.

The groom snatched off his hat, shuffled forward and closed the door behind him, while Lord Havelock sauntered over to the stove, holding out his hands to warm them.

‘Gilbey put up at the Dog and Ferret last night,’ he said. ‘The landlord told him that the Brownlows have gone away to visit relatives of some sort for the season. They don’t plan to come back until the twenty-eighth. It was a shock to everyone in the taproom to hear I’d come back, expecting to take up residence. God only knows where my letter to them has gone. Still at the receiving office, I shouldn’t wonder. Is that a fresh pot of tea? Capital.’

To her intense irritation, he then pulled up a chair at the table and indicated the groom should do so, as well. Where had his insistence on keeping the groom in his place, and she in hers, gone? She was torn between wanting to hug him for being so affable, or slap him for depriving her of the opportunity to take a stand. In the end, all she did was pour both men a cup of tea.

She’d have to find some other way of showing him he couldn’t speak to her like that. Only...if she launched into that kind of speech right now, wouldn’t she look a bit shrewish?

‘Looks as though my wife has cooked enough to feed an army,’ he said. Cheerfully.

He clearly had no idea what he’d done to her.

‘And even if you’ve had something at the Dog and Ferret, you should at least have a couple of these rolls,’ he said, putting some on a plate and pushing them over, with what looked suspiciously like...pride. ‘They’re first-rate.’

No, she definitely couldn’t start complaining about the way he’d talked to her when he’d been in a temper, not when he was being so complimentary about her cooking. Lips pressed tightly together, she served both men with eggs and ham, then sank, deflated, on to her own seat.