“Flaking florentine rounds,' he whispered. 'Peaches in snow-cream.' 'No,' she murmured. 'No more.' 'Meat pies. Mutton balls topped with spinach and walnuts and cumin ground fine...' 'You have no cumin. Mister Fanshawe told me this morning.' 'We have no mutton either,' he said. 'Nor walnuts until next autumn.' The larders were less than half full, he knew. As Christmas drew… — Lawrence Norfolk Copy Share
“Are there flowers here, your ladyship?' he asked when Pole had gone. 'Flowers?' Lucretia touched a hand to her cheek. 'Surely you… — Lawrence Norfolk Copy Share Image
“Night by night, he led her through Saturnus's gardens, describing the dishes that might come from each one. 'Poached collops of venison,'… — Lawrence Norfolk Copy Share Image
