Read Online Ten Lords A-Leaping by Ruth Dudley Edwards - Free Book Online Page A

over to her side. ‘I ’ope zat everyzeeng is to your satisfaction, madame, your ladeeship. It ees a very great ’oneur to ’ave you ’ere tonight.’
    ‘The escargots were excellent, thank you, but I am perturbed about my companion’s pâté.’
    The waiter gazed worriedly at the small piece remaining on Amiss’s plate.
    ‘It ees not good?’
    ‘Very nice indeed, thank you,’ said Amiss firmly. ‘I have no complaints whatsoever. It was absolutely delicious.’
    The baroness shook her head. ‘He has no taste,’ she said sadly to the waiter. ‘I can see that the texture is all wrong – too smooth. Tell the chef.’
    ‘But, of course, your ladeeship. Immediately, your ladeeship.’ He collected their plates and departed with another bow.
    ‘Jesus, am I not to be permitted a view on the food that I’m eating myself?’
    ‘Course you are, but I’m not going to pay any attention to it if it’s clearly misplaced.’
    ‘What’s with all this bowing and scraping and “your ladeeshiping” anyway? I wouldn’t have thought you’d start throwing your title about like some counter-jumper.’
    ‘My dear Robert.’ The baroness took another large mouthful of wine, smacked her lips appreciatively and sighed with contentment. ‘Mmmmm, I am enjoying myself. Nothing gives me an appetite like a bit of exercise before dinner. Didn’t the Queen’s message yesterday state that I should feel free to use all the… what was it?… rights, privileges, pre-eminences and all the rest of the goodies that come with being a baroness? And what do you think titles are for if not to fling around in restaurants? Surely you understand that that’s one of the main advantages of the ennobled state, playing on the snobbery of restaurateurs. Look around this place.’
    Amiss surveyed the packed room. ‘We have the best table.’
    ‘Exactly. Even though I didn’t book it until six o’clock this evening. If I’d said Miss Troutbeck we’d have been doing well to get a billet at the kitchen door. What you have to learn, my boy, is that one gets on in life only by using all one’s assets to the full. You’re not wholehearted enough, that’s your trouble.’
    The waiter reappeared, placed in front of both of them a plate of boeuf bourguignon, stood back and contemplated Jack Troutbeck apprehensively. She dug around investigatively. ‘Ah, good, plenty of shallots. Good big lumps of bacon. Excellent. And the beef looks satisfactorily chewy.’
    He beamed with relief.
    ‘But where is our claret?’
    He clapped his hands above his head in a tragic gesture and disappeared at top speed.
    ‘I’ll hand it to you, Jack. I’ve never seen a French waiter reduced to such a quivering state before.’
    ‘Only way to deal with them.’ She speared a piece of beef and chewed it ecstatically. ‘They’re happiest this way. Dammit, the whole point about the French is that they respect food, so they like you to make a fuss about it, even if you’re being critical. That’s what the apologetic English never understand. I shall henceforward be a popular pet in this restaurant for reasons unconnected with my title.’ The waiter arrived and poised the bottle over her glass. ‘No, just pour it. If it’s not right I’ll send it back.’
    He obediently filled first Amiss’s and then her glass, bowed, wished them ‘ Bon appétit ’ and withdrew.
    ‘You’re not descended from the Duke of Wellington by any chance, are you? You seem to have as short a way with the French as he did.’
    ‘I wish I were. He’s always been my hero. A girl can’t have a better role model. He understood like nobody else the importance of robustness.’
    ‘Speaking of which, what more do you know about Brother Francis? Is he really what he seems?’
    ‘All Who’s Who reveals is he was an only son, was educated at Marlborough and later joined the Franciscans. Not your common-or-garden Roman-Catholic Franciscans, mind you – the Anglo-Catholic lot. Much more