Wedding Matilda (Redcakes Book 6) Read Online Free Page A

trio of preserved fruit tarts, and a bowl of raspberry cranachan, beautifully layered with cheese so fresh-looking it might have been made from a cow milked yesterday morning. The tearoom selections continued to show a Scottish influence, but all of those treats, courtesy of the Royal Family’s obsession with Scotland, were made here and had nothing to do with her factory goods from Bristol.
    She paired her choices with a pot of single estate Darjeeling, one of her brother’s special finds. Her meal was fit for the aristocrats they often served. Why, the Redcake bakery was so in fashion that noble ladies sometimes picked up their own cake orders these days.
    Mr. Hales had returned to his post by the time she reached the top floor, puffing a bit with the effort of taking a tray for two up all those stairs. She’d have thought lifting Jacob would have trained her for the weight, but she couldn’t cuddle the tray against her like she could her child.
    Mr. Hales opened the door into the inner sanctum for her, and she set down the tray, somewhat ungracefully, on a table in between three chairs next to the fireplace.
    “As you can see, there is an absence of cake,” she announced when she straightened.
    “I would imagine so. It has been hard for the bakery downstairs to keep up.”
    “A cakie told me the cakes from Bristol have been powdery? I haven’t heard this complaint from our other retail outlets.”
    “We only received the first rotten cake last Thursday,” he said, gesturing her to be seated. “We keep a very close eye on any complaint we receive, given the nature of our patrons.”
    “The fashionable world is so small that one truly angry customer could damage our reputation irreparably,” she agreed, wincing at his use of the word rotten .
    “We cannot take that risk. The entire shipment was discarded, and Lord Judah hoped to work with you to fix the problem before the next shipment on Thursday.”
    Matilda picked up her glass bowl of the beautiful raspberry cranachan, then took a round spoonful of the creamy oats layered with cheese, cream, and preserved fruit. Her eyes closed involuntarily at the taste of so much rich goodness. Yes, she should have had a bowl of the navy bean soup first, but as usual, she’d wanted to go right to the best part and skip the preliminaries.
    When she opened her eyes, she found Mr. Hales regarding her closely, the faintest hint of a smile hovering at the edges of his mouth. His lips were red, and his smile telegraphed itself at the corners even when his lips didn’t move. Altogether he had the most attractive mouth she’d ever seen on a man, and now that his hair appeared more in its natural state for the first time, she could see how utterly appealing, how utterly heartbreaking he would be to a susceptible woman.
    The problem was, she could be that kind of susceptible woman. Thank heavens he was only a secretary. At least for now. When he became manager of Redcake’s Kensington, he would not be so far below her. But he would not live any closer to Bristol. All for the best, she told herself hastily. A man who dangled after waitresses was not for Miss Matilda Redcake, even the fallen Miss Matilda Redcake.
    “Whatever went wrong with the cakes started with last week’s production then,” she said, ignoring the tingles that had started in her body when she had perused his mouth.
    “Definitely. No problems before that.”
    “Can you explain the powdery reference?”
    “Bad flour,” said Mr. Hales succinctly, choosing a preserved pear tart and biting down.
    Large white teeth, and utterly rude. He had not even asked permission to dine. Ate her food as if he were her equal. “What is wrong with you today, Mr. Hales?” she said without thinking.
    Juice from the tart stained his lower lip as he lifted his head. His eyebrows rose as he chewed, then set the rest of the tart down on a napkin he had pulled from somewhere. “You weren’t going to eat all of this