Hawk moaned and held his stomach.
Diana clapped her hands. “I’ve got it—a dash of ginger. Yes, that’s it, ginger.”
Rafael said to Victoria, “I think we’re coming very close to clean innards here.”
“No, not ginger. A gooseberry sauce.”
“Oh, my God,” said Lyon, and collapsed in a heap, his head on his wife’s bountiful lap.
“Now, Lyon, if that offends you, then I will simply make do with . . . let me see . . .”
“My dearest wife,” said Rafael, “I’m taking you upstairs. Give poor Lyon here a map of the kitchen. His distress bothers me. I can’t bear to witness it further. I wish to begin on our dynasty this very night.”
“Your turn will come,” Lyon shouted after them. “Just you wait, Rafael.” To Diana he said fondly, “Now, my dearest, why not some parsnips with some delicious onion sauce?”
• • •