“Just coffee,” the man said. The other men said they’d have the same and went back to their conversation.
That had been easy enough. Raeni moved to the counter where Mrs. Price waited. She had to dodge Caroline, who carried a tray heavy with a silver coffee pot and several pastries. “The men will have coffee,” she told Mrs. Price.
The little bell above the door tinkled, and Raeni glanced at a group of four women who had entered.
“What kind of coffee?” Mrs. Price asked.
Raeni furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“Do they want milk in it or chocolate? What about sugar?”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought to ask. Raeni didn’t drink coffee, and though she knew it was not always taken black, she hadn’t thought to ask.
Mrs. Price waved a hand. “Go seat those ladies and then ask. Hurry now!”
Raeni rushed to the entrance, weaving past Caroline, now returning with a tray, which was stacked with dirty plates and cups. “Miss Sawyer, can you clear that table when you have a moment?” She gestured to an empty table stacked with used dishes. “Mr. Miller was supposed to send one of the men from the back to clear, but he must have forgotten or he still needs them all.”
“Of course.” Raeni was beginning to see why Caroline had looked so panicked. She greeted the women at the door and led them to a table but just as she was ready to return to the men whose coffee order she’d taken, two more men entered. She seated them and started back to the first table of men.
“Where’s our coffee?” the man who’d given her a smile earlier asked, his tone slightly irritated.
“It will be out in just a moment. Did you want milk, chocolate, or sugar?”
The men detailed the way they wanted their coffee, and Raeni nodded and hurried toward Mrs. Price. She passed Caroline, carrying yet another heavy tray. “Miss Sawyer, I thought I asked you to clear that table.”
“I will. I’ll do it right after this.”
The bell at the door tinkled again. Raeni blew out a breath. Mrs. Price gave the door a pointed look, and Raeni glanced over her shoulder to see six men crowding into the room. Where would she put them? The coffee room, with its polished brass and dark paneled walls, had plenty of light from the large front windows, but though the light gave it a spacious feel, it was all but full now. The tables had four chairs. How could she find a place to seat six?
She gave Mrs. Price the gentlemen’s order then rushed to seat the newcomers, managing to push two tables together. She was sweating now, and the coffee room was out of tables. Caroline gave her an exasperated look and Raeni rushed to clear the dirty table so the next set of customers could sit there.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have a tray, which meant she carried the dishes in several trips to the kitchen. Then she had to ask for a clean rag to wipe the table. Rag in hand, Mrs. Price stopped her. “The coffee is ready. Bring it to those gentlemen before they leave. They’ve been waiting almost a quarter of an hour.”
“But I was to clean the table.”
“In a moment,” Mrs. Price said. She gestured to a tray on the counter. Raeni eyed it with no little trepidation. A coffee pot sat in the middle surrounded by empty cups and saucers of milk and chocolate. Raeni approached the tray and wondered how she was to carry it across the room without tipping it. She tried to remember how Caroline had done it, the tray balanced on one shoulder. Carefully, Raeni hoisted the heavy tray and balanced it on her shoulder.
It wasn’t so difficult. She couldn’t see past the tray, but it would only be for a moment. Most of the room was still visible to her. She started toward the table of men, walking quickly but carefully, and just then the bell above the door tinkled. Raeni glanced in that direction. A man entered, and for a moment he looked so much like her father’s overseer that she stumbled. She managed to keep the tray steady long enough to realize it wasn’t him after all, but by then her legs had gone to jelly out of fear. She lurched forward, the tray making it impossible for her to see the man in the expensive coat who had stepped into her path until it was too late. She plowed into the man, her tray crashing down, the coffee on it splashing over him. He yelped and jumped back as the hot beverage scalded his skin. Raeni tried desperately to right the tray, but she could do little but watch it slide as her own momentum carried it and her into the man.
He tried to catch her, and she tried to step back, but the wet floor was slippery and she lost her footing. She went down and the man went down beside her. From the floor, Raeni looked up at the dark beams running along the ceiling. She’d be fired now. She’d probably be let go without even the day’s wages. The coffee, milk, and chocolate on her gown were as close to a meal as she was likely to have today or in the foreseeable future. But she wouldn’t give up that easily. Perhaps if she sought out Mr. Gaines, stood straight and begged—without showing too many teeth—for him to give her another chance, he might take pity on her.
Mrs. Price’s face came into view, but she wasn’t looking down at Raeni. She was looking at the man Raeni had taken down. “Sir! Are you injured?” Mrs. Price asked.
Obviously, no one cared if Raeni was injured. Still, Raeni thought a better question for the man might be where did you come from and why weren’t you watching where you were going?
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a low bass.
“Oh, I do apologize,” Mrs. Price was saying. Raeni wanted to roll her eyes. Why was she apologizing when it had been his fault? She’d better apologize too, especially if she hoped to beg Mr. Gaines for her position.
She pushed up to her elbows just in time for Mrs. Price to toss her an angry look. “This girl is new. But I’ll let her go right away. This won’t happen again, Mr. Gaines.”
The words were like a cold bucket of water tossed over her. Raeni wanted to sink right back down, curl up on the floor, and close her eyes. The handsome man before her, with his soft brown eyes and walnut-colored skin, was Mr. Gaines. The Mr. Gaines. She was doomed.
Two
Thomas hadn’t flinched when the scalding coffee splashed all over him, though he might have wished a significant quantity of it hadn’t landed on his trousers and quite so close to his nether regions. He’d barely restrained a pathetic yelp when the hot beverage soaked through the fabric and singed his inner thigh.
But his immediate concern was with his customers, most of whom were craning their necks to peer at the commotion. His coffee room had been open only a few days and this was not the impression he wanted to make on the London populace. He rose to his feet, his mind racing. “Sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentleman. Please, everyone, indulge in a cinnamon cake. My treat. My cook makes the finest cinnamon cakes in the country.”
Mrs. Price, his coffee room manager, gasped, her eyes widening. Clearly, she was envisioning all the extra work serving free cinnamon cakes would entail.
“Go ahead and start serving, Mrs. Price,” he told her. “The other ladies and I can clean up.”
“Yes, sir. I am sorry, sir.”
He reached down to assist the poor woman he had crashed into to her feet. By now Miss Caroline Ridley had reached them and was loading the fallen tray with assorted plates.