In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

1. Chapter (January Of Affections)

"Maggie?" called John Price as he descended into the parlour. The summoned housekeeper and cook in one, however, did not answer, so he made his way to the hall. There, too, he found no one, leaving only the kitchen as the possible place of her whereabouts. Swiftly, he traversed the hall, turned to the right into the eastern wing, and halted before the imposing white doors. He slowly opened them and entered the January kitchen bathed in toothed sunlight. Finally, he caught sight of a person, though not the one he expected to encounter in the kitchen that morn. His lips curled into a smile. He approached the woman, who stood with her back to him, and gently encircled her waist.

"Good morrow, Elizabeth," he greeted her, imprinting a kiss upon her cheek, revelling in the moment as she momentarily lost her breath.

"You have surprised me, John."

"Surprised or startled?" he mischievously queried, planting a kiss upon her other cheek. "Pray thee, do you know where Maggie is? She was to fetch my shirts from the tailor. I shall not be able to attend to it myself, for we have an important House of Lords meeting this day," he apprised her, stepping aside.

"As for your first query, I deem it to be both. And Maggie is absent; she had departed to tend to her ailing sister, and the scullery maid stands in her stead."

"And wherefore is she, pray? Why are you here alone?"

Elizabeth merely grinned, refraining from answering. John, therefore, pondered the reason why he sensed this morn to be different from all others, but before he could recollect, his wife whispered in his ear:

"'It is your day, after all. Blessed natal day, my dearest."

Their lips met, once again affirming the ardour and affection they had discovered within each other many years ago. So engrossed were they in their own world that they heard neither the door's resounding thud nor the cough.

"Like two young and enamoured doves," came a voice from behind them.

Aileen possessed less patience than Eliza, and when their parents finally disengaged with bashfulness in their eyes, the latter greeted them with a broad smile.

"Good morrow to you as well," Eliza said, drawing near to John. "Blessed sixtieth natal day, father."

She kissed his cheek and stood to the side, allowing Aileen to do likewise.

"Methinks I am touched. I trust you arose this early solely to felicitate me," he jested.

Aileen pouted and mischievously declared, "Nay, indeed. We are famished. And since Arden is a glutton and nought shall remain for us, we must surpass him in rousing from slumber."

She proceeded to her mother and peered into a bowl containing a white substance.

"But this appears nought like a suitable repast," she sceptically remarked.

"Verily, what might it be?" John finally inquired, noticing that Elizabeth had sticky hands, and some dough had even adhered to his shirt.

"Oh, what could it be!? 'Tis a recipe for baked buns according to Maggie's counsel."

"And shall it prove edible?" Eliza teased, earning herself a less-than-pleasing glance from Elizabeth.

"If you cannot endure, I shall prepare somewhat exclusively for you."

Question marks materialised upon their countenances, but in the end, they left the kitchen and seated themselves at the table within the sumptuous parlour. If anyone were to discover that the Duchess engaged in work like a commoner, it would surely ignite scandal for weeks. However, that didn't trouble John as much as the fact that he had forgotten his own natal day due to matters of state. After a moment, he rapped the table and glanced at his daughters, who arched their brows inquisitively. He inwardly chuckled at this characteristic, innate to all Prices, regardless of their maternal lineage. The remembrance of Mary pricked his heart, and he commenced speaking: