Читать книгу The Highborn Housekeeper - Sarah Mallory - Страница 14

Gabriel lay in his bed, exhausted by the effort of spending just a few hours out of it. The widow was right, damn her, he needed his rest. But strangely, now John had left him and he was lying alone in the darkness, he did not want to sleep. He was fortunate, he had numerous bruises, but nothing broken, and surprisingly, no broken ribs. Apart from the blow on the head which had rendered him unconscious, his injuries were most likely caused by being bounced around in a cart for the five-mile journey to the wood on the Great North Road. He should never have gone to the tavern in Darlton without John to watch his back, but what else could he do, when the fellow was so ill?

His mind wandered to the more pleasant subject of Mrs Hopwood. Nancy. He had some vague memory of her telling him that was her name. She had joined him for dinner, demurely dressed with no jewellery save her wedding ring, but not even the plainest gown could disguise the voluptuous figure beneath that blue silk. It had clung to her full, high breasts and shimmered over her hips when she walked. She had pinned up her hair, leaving just a few glossy ringlets resting against the back of her neck. In his mind he imagined what could have happened if she had not left him so quickly after the meal. He might have helped her rise from the table and slipped one hand around the ivory column of her neck, feeling the silken curls tickling his fingers as he pulled her towards him until he could kiss her full, red lips.

The thought made him stir restlessly, reminding him that his bruised and battered body was in no state to make love to a woman. He should sleep. He needed his rest, but when he closed his eyes Nancy’s image taunted him. She was not conventionally beautiful, her face was too strong for that—the high cheekbones and straight nose suggested a forceful character and, by heaven, he knew that to be true! Her generous mouth was made for laughter and he suspected she laughed often, for she had a keen sense of the ridiculous. Those chocolate-brown eyes had twinkled at him several times during the evening.

He frowned. But who was she, what was she? He tried to recall what she had said, when she had brought him to Dell House. When he had told her where he lived, she had said she knew it. So, she was no stranger to this area. Indeed, she must be well acquainted with it to know such an out-of-the-way place. And she was a gentlewoman by birth, he would swear to it, even though she said she earned her living.

A cook! He would not have believed it if he had not seen and tasted the proof of it for himself. And why should she not be? After all, many women of good birth fell on hard times and were obliged to make a living where they could. But something jarred with him. The way she moved, the way she talked. Her energy and sheer vivacity—he could more readily think her a courtesan than a cook, for she was a dashed attractive woman.

He shifted uneasily in his bed and then winced as his aching limbs protested. She might be Aphrodite herself, but this was no time for dalliance, even if he had been fit for it. He had a job to do and the recent attack had only served to convince him he was getting close. Time to try a different approach. Tomorrow he must arrange for something to be inserted in the papers to announce that a body had been found on the Great North Road near Tuxford. If the snow was as bad there as Nancy had said, it was unlikely anyone would be able to challenge the truth of the notice and whoever was behind the attack on him might believe they had succeeded in removing him.

But he could not proceed with his plans while he had the telltale bruise on his face, or until he was well enough to defend himself. It would mean lying low for at least another week, maybe more, but that could not be helped. His thoughts strayed once more to Nancy. John had told him there were no signs of anyone prowling about Dell House, so perhaps he should not be in such a hurry to be rid of her. If he had to live quietly for a while, why should he not enjoy the company of an attractive widow? She appeared intent upon looking after him, too, so he would only be allowing her to do what she wanted.

He closed his eyes, a sudden smile tugging at his lips. Who said one could not have one’s cake and eat it?

* * *

When John Thoresby came up with Gabriel’s morning coffee, he announced in a voice of doom that it had been snowing all night.

‘Drifting, too. That man of Mrs Hopwood’s says the road is already blocked. No one will be going very far today, save on foot, across the fields.’

‘Capital,’ Gabriel replied, sanguine. ‘Let us hope it is the same on the Great North Road.’

John helped him to sit up and handed him his cup.

‘You’ve changed your tune. I thought you wanted our visitors gone?’

‘I do, eventually, but the snow will prevent my assailants from becoming anxious that my remains have not yet been discovered. Which reminds me, John, we need a notice in the Markham Courier to that effect. And possibly in the Intelligencer, too. That is widely read in Darlton, I believe. You say it is possible to get out across the fields? Good. I want you to go to East Markham and send a message, express, to...er...our friends in London. They will arrange the whole.’

‘Very well, sir. And what do you plan to do next?’

Gabriel eased himself back against the pillows and sipped his coffee. ‘I really have no idea,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But this weather will give us a little extra time to make a new plan. Do not worry, John. I will think of something!’

* * *

Gabriel had taken his breakfast in his room and then allowed his manservant to help him dress. His muscles were still stiff and sore, but he felt much more himself. Well enough, in fact, to leave his room. Knowing John would want him to rest for at least another day, he had waited until he had set off on his errand to East Markham before sallying forth and it was thus a little before noon that he made his way downstairs.

He found Nancy in the kitchen. She was absorbed in stirring the contents of a copper pan on the stove and did not notice him come in, which gave him time to study her. She wore a linen pinafore wrapped around her over her gown, a cheerful yellow muslin with a frilled hem that was more suited to a London salon than a country kitchen, but its bright colour reminded Gabriel of spring flowers. It suited her, too, the yellow contrasting well with the deep rich brown of her hair. She had swept it up hurriedly out of the way and small dark curls framed her face. Several glossy tendrils had escaped at the back, drawing his attention to the elegant neck rising from the low-cut bodice.

For a moment he considered stealing silently up to her, slipping his arms about the dainty waist and dropping a kiss upon the soft skin of her shoulder, but common sense prevailed. She was stirring a boiling pot and he was not at all sure that she wouldn’t throw the contents over him if he took such a liberty. He decided it would be safer to cough to attract her attention.

‘Oh. Good morning, Mr Shaw.’

She turned from her task, not a whit embarrassed to be discovered at her work. Her eyes appraised him and he was not sure if she approved of what she saw. He felt a flicker of apprehension and laughed at himself. By heaven, he could not be such a coxcomb that he needed a woman’s approval!

‘You look better,’ she said at last. ‘I trust you are feeling better?’

‘Very much so, madam, thanks in part to an excellent meal last night.’ He walked further into the room. The air was warm and deliciously scented with spices and vanilla. ‘John has gone out and I came in search of coffee. To make it,’ he added quickly. ‘I do not expect you or Mrs Yelland to wait upon me.’

He was rewarded by a wide smile.

‘How wise of you. As you see, I am busy and Hester is in an outhouse, plucking one of the older hens for the pot. There is some hot water in the kettle, it will not take long to boil, and you will find coffee and the pot over there on the shelves.’

She moved aside to allow him to reach the kettle, but concentrated on her saucepan while he busied himself making coffee. They did not speak, but Gabriel thought it felt pleasantly companionable.

‘May I offer you a coffee, too, Mrs Hopwood?’

‘Why, thank you, yes. I am just finishing the custard pudding for tonight’s dinner; it should thicken in a few moments, then I can put it on the marble slab in the larder to cool.’ She paused, lifted the spoon to check the consistency, then continued with her stirring. ‘The morning room fire had not been lit when I went in there earlier, so I suggest that we drink it here. This is by far the warmest room in the house at present.’ She looked up suddenly, frowning. ‘Apart from your bedchamber. I gave instructions that the fire should be kept in all night.’

‘And it has been,’ he assured her, ‘but now I am recovered, I dare not invite you to join me there to drink coffee.’

‘Or for anything else.’

‘No, of course. Not on such a short acquaintance.’

He knew he was being provocative and he wondered if she would take offence. Instead she laughed at him. It was a happy sound, loud and full-throated. Infectious, he thought, smiling inwardly. Joyous.

‘Indeed not.’ She gave her custard a final stir and lifted it from the stove. ‘Pray, take the coffee to the table, sir, and we can enjoy it here. I believe there are some biscuits somewhere that Hester baked yesterday.’

She took the saucepan to the larder and returned a few moments later carrying a small jar. When she opened it, the smell of lemons wafted into the air.

‘I commend your previous housekeeper, Mr Shaw. She left the larder very well stocked. Even preserved fruits. I find it very unusual,’ she continued, as he took a biscuit, ‘to have a house with no servants. Did you turn them all off?’

‘Not at all. The family that lived here did not wish to renew their lease and moved out at Michaelmas. I knew I might need a retreat and had the house furnished with all the necessities. Including a well-stocked larder. That was vital, with winter approaching.’

‘It is your house, then?’

‘Most assuredly it is my house. I purchased it only this summer.’

‘And you prefer to live here with no staff.’

‘I do.’

‘But you are a gentleman. You must be accustomed to having servants. A cook, housekeeper.’

Her dark eyes were fixed upon his face, intense, questioning. He gave a little shrug and said lightly, ‘The needs of a bachelor are far simpler than those of a married man, madam.’ She gave a tiny hiss of exasperation and he laughed. ‘The truth is that Thoresby and I spent some time in the army. We are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves, Mrs Hopwood.’ She looked so frankly disbelieving that he laughed. ‘Very well, on this occasion your help was very much appreciated.’

‘Grudgingly appreciated would be more accurate.’

‘Was I unpardonably rude to you?’

‘Outrageously so.’

‘I shall blame it upon the blow on the head that I received.’

‘Fustian! You do not like having your will crossed.’ She rested her arms on the table and leaned towards him, her plump, rounded breasts rising from her low décolletage. Desire stirred and he tried to ignore it.

‘I wish you will tell me why it is dangerous for me to stay here.’ She read his thoughts and blushed. ‘Apart from the obvious, of course.’

‘Is that not reason enough?’

‘I have Hester with me and, in your current state of health, I do not fear you.’

‘I would not have you fear me at all, madam, especially as we are snowbound here for a few more days at least. If you believe nothing else of me, believe I am a gentleman.’ He raised his brows. ‘Why do you look at me like that, do you doubt me?’

‘My experience of gentlemen is that they take what they want of their servants—of any woman—and damn the consequences.’

He frowned. Not at the unladylike language but at the bitterness in her voice. He had not heard that note before and it disturbed him.

‘Not all gentlemen behave like that, Mrs Hopwood,’ he told her. ‘And you are not my servant.’

‘No, indeed.’ She gave a faint smile, her eyes softening, then she seemed to recollect herself and withdrew from him. ‘Since the snow makes it impossible for you to be rid of me for a few days, I had best get on with preparing dinner for this evening.’

She made to rise and he put out a hand to stop her.

‘Not yet. Take a moment to drink your coffee.’ She sank down again and he said, ‘You are an unusual woman, Nancy Hopwood. Tell me about yourself.’

She shrugged. ‘My story is no different from many other respectable women. I have no man to support me—and no wish for one!—and I was fortunate enough to find a position as a cook.’

‘And your employer, he is good man?’

She smiled at that. ‘My employer is not a man at all, it is a charity. I work at a house in the north of England that takes in women who have no other home. There is a small farm attached where we grow what we need and sell any surplus and we all do what we can to support ourselves. Those who are good with their hands make things we can sell, such as knitted purses, or stockings. My passion is cooking, so it was natural I should take over the kitchen.’

‘Then what were you doing in Tuxford?’

‘I have been to London. On business. I was on my way back when I came across you in the wood.’ Her shoulders lifted a fraction. ‘I am not one to ignore any creature in trouble.’

‘Which was fortunate for me.’ He refilled their cups. ‘But how long can this charity spare you?’

‘As long as I am needed here.’ She met his eyes, a challenge in her own. ‘We may differ on how long that will be, but you will admit that while the snow continues I cannot leave.’

And it was safe enough for her to remain. For the moment.

He said: ‘I freely admit that you cannot quit this house today, ma’am, and most likely you will be here tomorrow, too, but you should go as soon as may be. I am going on well enough now. John and I are quite capable of looking after ourselves.’

‘And you will not tell me why you are so eager for me to leave?’

‘Will you believe me if I say I might forget I am a gentleman if you stay here much longer?’

She smiled at that, but shook her head. ‘Of course I will, but that is not the only reason. There is some mystery about you and I wish you would share it with me.’

‘It is best that you do not know, ma’am.’

‘Then I am obliged to conclude you are here upon some unlawful business.’ She sighed and her mouth drooped. ‘I do not wish to think of you as a villain.’

It was his turn to smile.

‘You need not think it, but neither will your gusty sighs persuade me to tell you.’

‘I thought I might as well try.’

She peeped up at him from under her lashes, a roguish look that made him catch his breath as the simmering desire turned to a bolt of pure lust. It required a supreme effort to remain still and keep his countenance impassive.

She finished her coffee. ‘Thank you, sir, for the refreshment and the company. But now I really must get on.’

As she pushed the cup away he reached out and caught her wrist.

‘Will you dine with me again? I think I am well enough to sit in the morning room this evening. We could of course use the dining room but it is large and draughty. Dashed difficult to heat.’

Nancy was shocked at the way her skin reacted to his touch. Darts of electricity shot through her arm, setting her pulse racing. It was as much as she could do not to cry out or pull away.

She said, as calmly as she could, ‘I believe you dined here in the kitchen with Mr Thoresby, prior to our arrival.’

‘Well, yes, but—’

He released her and the disappointment she felt was a further surprise. Alarming, too. He might be a gentleman, he might not mean her any harm, but he was surely dangerous. It was in her own interests to keep him at a distance.

‘Then I suggest we all eat in here together,’ she told him. ‘There is a strong argument in favour of the arrangement, the food will be hotter when it reaches the table.’

‘I have no objection, if that is what you wish.’

She was relieved he had accepted the suggestion so readily. Much as she had enjoyed his company last night, she knew it would be safer to dine with the others. She found Gabriel far too attractive and was in no doubt that it would be all too easy to succumb to his charm. Heaven forbid he should realise the effect he had on her. Now she threw him a pitying look.

‘I am the cook, Mr Shaw. I am quite accustomed to eating at the kitchen table.’

‘Who is eating at the kitchen table?’ Hester came in, carrying the plucked chicken and bringing with her a blast of cold air.

‘Everyone,’ Nancy replied. ‘It will be more convenient for us all to eat together.’

‘Oh, no, madam, we cannot do that.’ Hester stopped in her tracks. ‘You are a lady, Miss Nancy, even if you have fallen on hard times. You will dine in the morning room with Mr Shaw.’

Nancy gave a little tut of frustration. ‘It is not seemly for us to dine alone.’

‘It is seemlier than you both sitting in the kitchen,’ Hester retorted. She stomped into the larder to deposit the chicken, saying when she returned, ‘And from what I’ve seen of this gentleman, I don’t believe you’ll come to any harm.’

Gabriel beamed at her. ‘Thank you, Mrs Yelland.’

‘You may be right about this...gentleman.’ Nancy threw him a scorching look. ‘However, it will be a lot less work for everyone if we all eat together. And you won’t need to carry the food through those draughty passages!’

But Hester was not to be moved. She folded her arms.

‘If you won’t think of yourself, madam, think of Mr Thoresby and William. It’ll quite put them off their dinner, to have to eat it in your presence.’

‘But we dined together when we arrived here,’ Nancy protested.

‘That was from necessity. What with Mr Shaw at death’s door and the rest of the house unheated and unprepared, there was only the kitchen fit to use. But now everything’s different. We will all be much happier if the two of you are dining elsewhere and we can get on with our own meal in peace.’

Gabriel gave a little cough. ‘You would not wish to make the others uncomfortable, Mrs Hopwood.’

‘No, of course not, but since I shall be preparing the meal—’

Hester interrupted her. ‘We managed yesterday and we shall do the same this evening. I am sure Mr Shaw will agree that you work hard enough as it is. The least we can do is to see to it that you enjoy your dinner.’

Nancy stared at her in silence, frustration bringing an angry colour to her cheeks.

Gabriel rose from the table, chuckling. ‘And you said I did not like having my will crossed. I shall leave you now, but I look forward to joining you for dinner later, Mrs Hopwood. In the morning room!’

Nancy watched him walk out and it was as much as she could do not to pick up something from the table and hurl it at the door.

‘Of all the arrogant, high-handed—’

‘Very much like yourself,’ Hester commented. ‘Come along now, Miss Nancy, there’s no time for a tantrum. We must get a move on or we will be eating dinner at midnight.’

Nancy returned to her cooking, muttering to herself, but gradually the discipline of preparing the meal soothed away her anger and by the time she went up to her room to change for dinner she was resigned to her fate. She put on the blue silk again, knowing it was the only evening gown that was decorous enough for a poor and modest widow.

* * *

Gabriel was just coming out of his room opposite her own as she stepped out on to the landing. With a bow he offered her his arm. She hesitated, still angry with him for not supporting her decision to eat in the kitchen.

‘It is not gallantry,’ he informed her. ‘I am still unsteady and I need your assistance to descend these stairs.’

A laugh bubbled up, dispelling her anger.

‘You are a complete rogue,’ she scolded, placing her fingers on his sleeve.

‘Unfair, ma’am, when you yourself say I am not yet fully recovered.’

‘I was wrong. You are much improved, although I am relieved to see you are using the handrail.’

They reached the hall and she withdrew her hand and preceded him into the morning room, where the shutters had been closed and the fire was burning merrily. The small dining table was already set for dinner and Gabriel stepped forward to hold her chair.

‘If you are afraid for your virtue, we could always leave the door open,’ he suggested.

‘And lose the benefit of the fire? No, I thank you.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I will risk being alone with you.’

It was no hardship, she thought, as they settled down to their meal. Gabriel was good company. He was intelligent, his conversation was both witty and entertaining and she soon relaxed and began to enjoy herself. She had forgotten to put the muslin fichu about her neck, but there was nothing in Gabriel’s manner to cause her alarm. His eyes did not linger on her breasts, nor did he try to flirt with her. They talked companionably about various subjects with the ease of old friends, and the evening sped by. When the long-case clock in the hall chimed the hour, she exclaimed in surprise.

‘Is that the time already? I had no idea it was so late.’

‘Eleven o’clock cannot be considered late, ma’am.’

‘It is for an invalid such as yourself. You need to rest.’ She rose, but waved to him to remain in his seat. ‘Pray do not get up.’ She walked to the side table to collect a decanter and a glass and bring it to him. ‘There, I will leave you with your brandy and bid you goodnight, Mr Shaw.’

When he reached for her hand she gave it to him without thinking. He pressed a kiss upon her fingers and let her go. A friendly gesture, she told herself. Nothing more.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Hopwood.’

‘Mr Shaw.’

Oh, how she wanted to stay! Her whole being protested as she turned away from him and her spine tingled with the knowledge that he was watching her. He would not object, she was sure, if she remained to drink another glass of wine with him, but then what? There was only one way the evening would end if she showed such a preference for his company. And though her body might cry out for relief from the longing that disturbed her nights, Gabriel Shaw was too charming, too attractive, and she feared she might grow too attached to him. She would not risk her heart for a moment’s pleasure. She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her, and kept walking until she had reached the safety of her bedchamber, where she resolutely turned the key in the lock.

* * *

Gabriel watched Nancy leave the room. She was a tall woman and built on queenly lines, but she moved with an almost liquid grace that made him long to see her in a ballroom. He poured himself a measure of brandy and sipped it, his mind filled with the agreeable image of Nancy gliding across the dance floor, the skirts of her gown shimmering in the candlelight as they swayed about her hips.

A line of poetry came into his head and he murmured it aloud.

‘“How sweetly flows that liquefaction of her clothes!” Who wrote that? Herrick, of course.’ He bethought him of another line from Herrick, this time writing of Julia’s breasts.

Between whose glories there my lips I’ll lay.

With something that was almost a growl he shook off his reverie.

‘Confound it, such thoughts will do me no good at all!’

Finishing his brandy, he pushed himself to his feet and made for the door.

* * *

Nancy lay in her bed, her head, her whole body buzzing. She was not in the least sleepy and wished she had been able to stay talking with Gabriel into the early hours. It had been years since she had enjoyed a man’s company so much and the thought set alarm bells ringing. He roused in her a longing for more than just conversation. She wanted to touch him, to feel his arms about her. To assuage the terrible loneliness that she had barely acknowledged until now. Over the years she had learned to protect herself where men were concerned. A single woman could not afford the luxury of letting down her guard. Only once had she lost her heart and she knew the pain of loving a man who could never be hers. She would not risk that again.

She tensed, clenching her hands at her sides. She had her work and her friends at Prospect House, was that not enough? The traitorous voice inside told her no. She wanted a man’s touch, a man’s kiss. But it was not just the physical need that alarmed her. She felt, nay, she was certain, that if circumstances had been different, Gabriel Shaw could have been a friend. Someone to laugh with, to share jokes. To share worries.

Impatiently she rolled on to her side. Heavens, what was happening to her? She was far too old for such a foolish infatuation. But when she was with Gabriel she felt giddy and reckless, ready to throw her cap over the windmill. With a sigh she sat up and turned her pillow. Oh, this would never do. Her friends at Prospect House relied upon her for her good sense and here she was behaving like a schoolgirl, losing her head over an attractive man about whom she knew nothing. Less than nothing.

She remembered her father’s housekeeper, Mrs Crauford, saying ‘Handsome is as handsome does’ and she must keep that in mind, because Gabriel was most definitely handsome. She felt a sigh building and fought it back, determined to be sensible. If Gabriel had indeed been left to perish by his enemies it might make him a victim, but it did not mean he was a good or an honest man. That remained to be seen.

She settled down again, snuggling her hand against her cheek. Relaxed and warm within the comfort of her bed and with the door securely locked, she allowed her thoughts to wander freely. There was no denying Gabriel was very attractive, with his dark hair and charming smile, and those eyes... She took a moment to consider his eyes. They were as blue as the borage flowers she used to decorate her salads and when he looked at her, just so, it felt as if his glance was piercing her very soul. Yes, even with the fading remains of that bruise upon his cheek he was handsome enough to turn a girl’s head. Lucky then, she thought sleepily, that she was no longer a girl...