Chapter 7 7

It was the morning after Alistair's funeral. The underground kitchen was boiling hot. Steam rose from massive metal pots. It felt like an industrial boiler room.

Emmett was assigned to help carry heavy food deliveries. He took off his gray jacket. He wore only a white button-down shirt. He rolled the sleeves up past his elbows, exposing his forearms.

In the corner of the kitchen, a skinny girl with freckles was struggling. It was Agnes, the old stable master's niece. She was trying to lift a massive heavy wooden bucket of raw potatoes onto the steel counter. Her face was bright red.

Her hands slipped on the wet plastic. The heavy bucket tipped backward, falling toward the hard tile floor.

Emmett moved fast. He stepped forward and shoved his hand under the bucket. His bicep flexed tight against his shirt. He caught the full weight of the potatoes with one hand.

Agnes gasped and jumped back. She looked up at Emmett's face. Her cheeks turned dark red.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered.

Emmett didn't smile. He didn't flex to show off. He just lifted the bucket easily and pushed it onto the steel counter.

"Split it into two trips next time," Emmett said. His voice was calm and flat.

"Agnes! Peel those potatoes now!" Chef Fabre screamed from across the kitchen.

Agnes flinched. She pulled her shoulders up to her ears like a scared rabbit.

Emmett picked up a small paring knife. He stood next to her. He grabbed a potato and started peeling. The knife moved in fast, sharp circles. The skin fell away perfectly. He didn't say a word, he just helped her work.

Agnes looked at him with wide, grateful eyes. "Are you Emmett?" she whispered. "The one who knows about the inheritance laws?"

Emmett's knife stopped for a fraction of a second. The rumor had reached the kitchen. Perfect.

He turned his head. He looked at Agnes with a soft, self-deprecating smile.

"Don't listen to Rory," Emmett said gently. "I don't have much formal schooling. I don't understand half those complicated legal words."

Agnes looked at his clear, honest eyes. She instantly believed him. She smiled back, thinking he was just a nice, simple man.

Emmett looked at her innocent smile. A dark memory flashed in his brain.

In his past life, he used his good looks to flirt with every maid in the kitchen. He thought he was charming. He thought his handsome face made him special. That stupid arrogance made him the perfect target for Clara. She played him like a toy and threw him away.

Emmett's eyes turned pitch black. A wave of self-hatred hit him so hard his stomach rolled. He gripped the handle of the knife. His knuckles turned white.

He took a sharp breath. He tossed the peeled potato into the sink. It hit the water with a loud splash. The sound cut off the memory.

Moira walked into the kitchen. She swayed her hips as she walked toward Emmett. She stopped right next to him. She leaned in, trying to press her shoulder against his arm.

"You're pretty strong, Emmett," Moira purred.

Emmett didn't look at her. He shifted his weight and took a half-step to the left. Moira's shoulder hit empty air.

"Do you need me to carry something for you?" Emmett asked. His voice was polite, but it was freezing cold.

Moira frowned. She crossed her arms. "No," she muttered. She turned around and grabbed a breakfast tray. "You're as boring as a brick wall," she complained as she walked away.

Emmett went back to peeling potatoes. He needed to be a brick wall. Until Kearney arrived, Emmett had to be completely invisible. He had to hide every sharp edge.

Elias walked into the kitchen. The room went quiet. Elias looked around. He saw Emmett quietly peeling potatoes, ignoring the girls, just working hard. Elias nodded slightly. He liked obedient workers.

Elias cleared his throat. "Prepare the grand menu. Lady Philippa is returning to the manor this afternoon with her husband, Baron Pembroke."

The kitchen exploded into chaos. Pans clattered. People yelled.

Emmett put the knife down. He wiped his wet hands on a towel. He stared down into the dirty water in the sink.

Philippa was coming back. The venomous older sister. The war for the money was about to begin. Emmett stared at the water, ready to watch them drown.