Back at the manor, Ephraim Pickett tried to figure out how he was going to make his escape. Stuck in the kitchen with a few others, making sure the platters were presentable and that the food got circulated at a decent pace, he was under the watchful eye of the kitchen master—a big, busty woman with a permanent glare. She worked them hard while barely bothering to raise a finger to help.
Somehow he had to get away, though. Otherwise, he would not only be passing up the opportunity to go north, where he would be a free man, but he would also risk losing what promised to be the greatest love of his life.
The temperature in the kitchen continued to rise as the night wore on, making Ephraim sweat. His white shirt stuck to the small of his back, and he mopped at his brow with a handkerchief.
