“What is he thinking?” Judith demanded.

“Goodness!” Ellie said quickly. “Are we nearly to the kitchens? You had best button your lips, Judith. Charles did say we need to be quiet.”

The trio tiptoed into the kitchen, which Ellie noted had been cleaned quite thoroughly since her last visit. It looked as if the burnt oven had been put back into use. She was dying to look inside and inspect the rack. Perhaps when Charles's back was turned…

“Where do you suppose Monsieur Belmont has hidden those tarts?” Charles asked Judith.

“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.