
"Lady Audley looked up from her occupation amongst the fragile china cups, and watched Robert rather anxiously, as he walked softly to his uncle's room, and back again to the boudoir. She looked very pretty and innocent, seated behind the graceful group of delicate opal china and glittering silver. Surely a pretty woman never looks prettier than when making tea. The most feminine and most domestic of all occupations imparts a magic harmony to her every movement, a witchery to her every glance. The floating mists from the boiling liquid in which she infuses the soothing herbs, whose secrets are known to her alone, envelop her in a cloud of scented vapour, through which she seems a social fairy, weaving potent spells with Gunpowder and Bohea. At the tea-table she reigns omnipotent, unapproachable ...."
Remember that, ladies, the next time you put the kettle on!

As you see, tea features in Lady Audley's Secret
, the book the Cornflower Book Group has been reading this month, but cake does not. There is much eating of chops and veal cutlets and the like, but baked goods rarely figure, with only a passing reference to "warm French rolls", indigestible pastries and sweetmeats, and "biscuits and transparent bread-and-butter". Lady Audley is such a devious minx that I doubt she has the taste for cake, though I expect her step-daughter Alicia would like something plain but flavourful, of which the odd crumb might find its way to her dog Caesar.

To go with the book, therefore, I've made Nigella's Damp Lemon and Almond Cake from How To Be A Domestic Goddess
, a fitting accompaniment to a cup of tea made by a mere mortal rather than the "social fairy" of the passage above. It is indeed nicely damp, and the zing of the lemon zest and juice and the marzipan-like almondiness make it everything you hope it will be.
On the subject of books and cakes, here's an excerpt from the section on almond and lemon in the excellent, compendious The Flavour Thesaurus
by Niki Segnit:
"Ground almond soothes lemon's sharpness in cakes and tarts. In Kew, southwest London, deep little tarts called maids of honour are baked and sold at The Original Maids of Honour Shop. They're said to date back to the time of Henry VIII - in Hilary Mantel's novel Wolf Hall
[post on it here; its sequel
is due out soon], Thomas Cromwell sends flat baskets of them to console Anne Boleyn's ladies-in-waiting. The recipe is a secret, but broadly speaking they're puff pastry tarts with a cheesecake-like lemon and almond filling."