What the hell was that? And who the hell does he think he is to threaten me, fumed Lucy trying to contain her anger. If he thinks he can bully me like that, he's got the wrong girl, thought Lucy, her resolve rising.

It took a few minutes before Lucy could return her full attention to making the soup. She just couldn't get over how rude Chase was. No one had ever spoken to her like that in her life. There was palpable tone of hostility to his tone, which was made even more confusing by the fact that at first Lucy could have sworn that he was almost flirting with her. Did she totally misread the signs?

Lucy drizzled some olive oil on the bottom of a large pot, and continued chopping the onion, followed by the carrot, and the celery, and tossed everything in the heated pot. She quickly assembled the rest of the ingredients and poured in the chicken stock to the caramelized vegetables. A delicious scent filled the kitchen, as Lucy added more ingredients and a variety of spices, stirring the rich broth. Finishing things off with a splash of cream, she gave the soup a final stir, and took a taste with her spoon. She added a bit of salt, turned the burner off, and covered the pot. Hopefully George will approve, she thought.

After a bit of cleanup, Lucy untied her apron strings, and sat down at the marble island counter for a well deserved rest.

She still couldn't shake the unsettling feeling Chase's words had on her. Why was he so adamant that she was lying about being a cook? And what was he implying with his insinuations about her "profession"? This was all a bit strange, and suddenly Lucy wished that she didn't feel so cornered, so lost for words when he was confronting her. Well, he did say that he would return soon, thought Lucy. Maybe there's a misunderstanding of some sort, and once he talks to George about it, he'll see that I have every reason to be here. Hell, I am doing his grandfather a favor!

Feeling empowered by her reasoning, Lucy felt herself relax, but her moment of calm was interrupted by Charles entering the kitchen.

"Mr. Thornton is enquiring about the lunch hour. When do you expect to be finished?" he asked looking down his nose at Lucy.

"Oh, I am finished. Tell George that whenever he's ready, I'll be happy to serve him up a bowl."

"He's ready presently," informed Charles, looking over suspiciously at the stove.

Lucy jumped off the chair and took a white bowl out the cupboard. She carefully ladled a generous portion of the aromatic soup into the bowl and set it down on a tray along with a spoon, a linen napkin, and a couple of pieces of crusty bread.

Charles was about to take the tray from Lucy, when she said, "I'd like to take it into him, if you don't mind."

Charles reluctantly side stepped Lucy to allow for her to pass him. "He's in the drawing room, just as before," added Charles, as Lucy walked down the hall carrying the tray.