Never Resist Temptation Read Online Free Page A

Charlie said stubbornly. “And now His Highness knows too. Soon you’ll be as famous as Mr. Carême.”
    In her more optimistic moments she indeed harbored such grandiose ambitions. And when realism intruded, her goal was more modest: to have enough money to resume her own identity and live comfortably without the grueling work of being in service. With a small shop in London she could enjoy some of the pleasures of town life. Her years in the country had been damnably dull compared to her girlhood in Paris.
    But two thousand guineas were unlikely to come in her direction. All the more reason to hope a few shillings from this morning’s trade would supplement her wage of thirty pounds a year.
    Their comfortable ruminations on wealth were interrupted by the arrival of a stranger, a servant but nota member of the royal staff. From his clothing he appeared to be a groom rather than an indoor servant.
    â€œI’m looking for a French cook,” the man said. “Can you tell me where to find”—he referred to a slip of paper—“Jacob Léon.”
    â€œI am Léon,” said Jacobin in surprise. “What do you want of me?”
    â€œI’ve come to offer you a job,” said the man. “My master is looking for a new pastry cook and he’s heard you’re a good one. Heard you can cook as well as Carême.”
    Jacobin laughed. “Hardly, monsieur. Your master must have heard that I finished some of Monsieur Carême’s work in his absence.”
    â€œBut you can make those fancy French pastries the nobs are mad for?” the man persisted.
    â€œI am an excellent pastry cook,” Jacobin acknowledged proudly. “Is your master a connoisseur of such cuisine?”
    The man looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know about a connersewer, but he likes puddings and he needs a good cook. He told me to offer you eighty pounds a year.”
    Jacobin pursed her lips and nodded appreciatively. That was a princely salary, and would let her save for her shop much faster. For the first time since escaping her uncle’s house, she glimpsed a future with possibilities beyond the boundaries of her imagination. Perhaps it was a good thing Candover and Storrington had engaged in their immoral wager. Without it she’d never have left the safe but confining dead end of life as her uncle’s despised dependent.
    â€œThat is generous, monsieur,” she said, visions of golden guineas dancing in her head. “Tell me, what is the name of your master who loves pastry so much?”
    â€œBless me, did I forget to tell you? My master is the Earl of Storrington, and I am Jem Webster, his groom.”

Chapter 3
    I t had seemed a brilliant idea, Anthony thought as he finished breakfast in his private parlor at the Old Ship Inn. To hire Jacob Léon. Candover’s weakness for sweets was well-known, and he’d been without a first-rate pastry cook since the last man eloped with the niece. If he wasn’t mistaken, word that young Léon had stepped in for Carême when the master was ill would soon get around the Prince Regent’s circle. He’d be besieged by offers, and Candover would be at the head of the line. If Léon was working for Anthony, his services could be used to lure Candover into another card game.
    Too bad the young man had refused, but Anthony wasn’t giving up yet. He’d sent Jem down to the Pavilion again this morning to sweeten his previous offer. He wondered if the young cook was aware that the Earl of Storrington was the man who’d saved him from those louts two nights ago. If he didn’t know it, perhaps he should. Gratitude might persuade him to leave Carême where money had proved ineffective. Should Jem failagain, Anthony supposed he’d better make the approach in person, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
    Anthony felt a visceral reluctance to have any direct contact with the young