by Anna Bradley
She wasn’t sure whether she ought to knock or not, but decided that it would seem rather foolish to do so. With a lift of her chin, Pleasant entered the room.
The first thing she saw was Madame LeFleur herself sitting and smoking a cheroot near the fireplace directly across from a well-dressed man. She was attired in a dark green, satin gown that showed off her black hair to perfection. It was only the second time Pleasant had seen the elusive Madame.
However, she did her best to focus on the lady and not the other people dotted about the room. One woman was sitting on a gentleman’s lap on the settee, giggling coquettishly, while another couple was standing off to one corner, having a rather lewd conversation, if the heated glance in the man’s eyes was anything to go by as he stared at the harlot’s nearly exposed bosom.
Pleasant stood uncertainly for a moment, but then the Madame glanced up and noticed her. “Ah, there is my wayward washerwoman,” she purred with a twist of her lips.
With a respectful curtsy, Pleasant said, “I’m very sorry about that, Madame LeFleur. I meant to send word earlier.” She explained about her apprenticeship with Mr. Reed, and when she did, she might have imagined it, but the man sitting next to the lady seemed to raise his brows in recognition. And now that she studied him briefly, she thought there might actually be a bit of a resemblance between him and her employer. But since her focus was placating the lady, she said, “I won’t have any problems getting the wash back to you first thing in the morning.”
The Madame shrugged indifferently. “I’m afraid that I had to go with someone else.” Pleasant’s hopes instantly sank, although she tried to not let it show.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Pleasant turned to leave.
“However,” the Madame spoke up. “I asked Violet to send you in to see me, for I have a rather different proposition for you.”
Pleasant wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but she slowly turned back around. “Yes?”
Her gaze was sly, her lips curved in invitation. “I have several clients that would pay handsomely for an untouched innocent. When I mentioned my lovely washerwoman, there was quite a bit of interest.”
A stone settled in the pit of Pleasant’s stomach. “No, thank you.” Again, she turned to go. And again, the lady’s words caused her to pause.
“You cost me quite a bit of trouble today. It’s not often that I let such a slight pass without consequence. Besides, it’s not as if you will need to save your purity for a husband someday. You’re not a fresh, London debutante who needs to concern herself with such nuances.”
“That may be,” Pleasant returned firmly, once more facing her former employer. “But I must decline your offer—”
“How much?”
Pleasant gasped as her gaze shifted to the man sitting with Madame LeFleur. While he was rather handsome in appearance, she had no desire to copulate with him. “Did you not hear—?”
She was cut off as if she hadn’t even spoken. “I should think twenty guineas ought to do it,” the Madame returned rather shrewdly.
Pleasant watched in stunned silence as the man stood up, withdrew a purse from his jacket pocket, counted out the requisite gold coins and handed them to the lady. She instantly shoved them into her bodice. “You are welcome to use one of my rooms if you wish, Lord Haverton.”
“I prefer my own lodgings, Madame LeFleur.”
He offered her a curt bow and then began to walk toward Pleasant. She was frozen in fear, not quite sure how she’d come here to pick up laundry and managed to have her virtue sold in the process, but she told herself he wouldn’t succeed.
She opened her mouth, prepared to let him know in no uncertain terms that he’d just wasted his money when he grabbed her arm more gently than she imagined he might have, and bent down to whisper in her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, but if you don’t want Madame LeFleur to offer your services to anyone else tonight, I suggest you come with me.”
Pleasant knew she didn’t have long to decide her fate. Taking a risk and praying that he was sincere, she gave him a brief nod of acquiescence.
His face eased its tension somewhat as he steered her toward the front entrance of the establishment. He retrieved his outerwear and then they waited while his black lacquered carriage was pulled forward and the man standing sentry at the brothel opened the door that was lit with elegant lanterns. Lord Haverton waved his hand for Pleasant to precede him, and reluctantly she climbed inside.
She admired the maroon velvet, padded cushions, but when her companion entered and shut the door behind him, the sound caused her to jump, the finality of her precarious position like the clang of a prison door.
Pleasant barely felt the gentle jerk of the carriage as it set into motion. It was vastly different from a hackney, the few times she’d been fortunate enough to afford such accommodations. “Where are you taking me?” she dared herself to ask.
“Home, eventually,” he returned. She stiffened as he tossed his hat to the side, and once more she was struck by how much he favored her employer. But then, surely it must be a trick of the dim lighting. “I merely have a few questions first.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. She certainly owed him that much, considering he had saved her from a terrible consequence. “What is it you wish to know?”
He paused, as if weighing his words, and then he said, “You mentioned that you worked for a cordwainer by the name of Mr. Reed?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“I didn’t realize he had hired any new employees.”
While Pleasant was rather curious of this obvious interest from an upper crust gentleman in a common shopkeeper, she kept her thoughts to herself and replied, “There was a sign in the window yesterday advertising for an apprentice.”
“So he took you on?”
She could hear the disbelief in his voice and she drew herself up. “I realize it may be difficult to believe, since I am a mere woman, but I assure you I am qualified. My father was a cobbler in Ireland, and I assisted him many times.”
He held up his hands in supplication. “You misunderstand. I meant no disrespect, Miss…?”
He trailed off meaningfully, so she supplied her name. “Miss Pleasant Hill.”
His lips almost twitched into a smile. “Truly?”
She recalled Mr. Reed had shown a similar reaction. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I…” He started to explain, but then shook his head. “Never mind. Again, I beg your pardon if I seemed offensive. It’s just that I’m surprised Mr. Reed should have taken on any assistant. He’s usually rather…self-sufficient.”
“Ah, I see. You must be one of his customers,” she guessed.
This time he did grin. “Something like that.” He sat back and studied her from the shadows, his green eyes sparking with humor. “My name is Xavier Malcolm, the Earl of Haverton. Please convey my best wishes to your employer.”
***
The next morning, when Pleasant arrived at the shop, she politely greeted Mr. Reed, removed her outerwear, including the covering on her hair, and hung them up on a peg in the back room. As she tied an apron around her waist, she walked back to where he sat and said, “I met a mutual acquaintance last night. One of your customers, I believe, a man of rather significant influence. He asked me to convey his best wishes to you.”
He lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “Oh? And who might that be?”
“Xavier Malcolm, the Earl of Haverton.”
The moment she mentioned his name, her companion stiffened visibly. “Indeed. And how did you make the earl’s acquaintance?”
Pleasant hesitated, not sure how to explain. “I was in a difficult situation, and Lord Haverton helped ease it over.”
She hoped that might have been the end of it, but as she turned to go to the back room, he stopped her. “It sounds like an intriguing story.”
She winced. She didn’t wish to offer any more information, but considering the firm look on his
face, Pleasant knew he wasn’t going to be placated that easily. So she cleared her throat and tried to make light of the situation. “Well, you see, I was at Madame LeFleur’s establishment—”
His eyes instantly widened. “You went to a brothel?” he thundered.
Pleasant didn’t much care for his tone, as if she were a child who needed proper direction. “I went to pick up the wash,” she pointed out.
“I see.” He seemed to digest this. “So how did the gallant Lord Haverton intercede on your behalf?”
She rather hoped she wouldn’t have had to reveal this part, but since she’d opened the door… “The Madame wasn’t pleased that I was late picking up the laundry, so she had hired someone else. She…uh…decided that I owed her for her trouble.” Her cheeks warmed considerably. “She meant to…offer my services in another fashion. Lord Haverton paid her price and took me home.”
He didn’t look pleased. At. All. “How much?”
She swallowed, wondering why that should matter. “Twenty guineas.”
He uttered a foul curse and shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t want you going back there ever again,” he demanded.
Pleasant drew herself up. “Since she’s no longer a customer, I don’t plan to.”
He drummed his fingers on his leg. “Who else do you work for?”
She hesitated. “It shouldn’t be your concern as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work here.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue the point, but in the end, he nodded curtly and turned his back to her. “You’re right, of course. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Hill.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cornell brooded for the rest of the day, which was ridiculous. He knew it, and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake the storm cloud that had settled over his shoulders. He had no say in what Pleasant did outside of this shop. She was only an apprentice, and a temporary one at that.
For Christ’s sake, he’d only known of her existence for two days!
But then, why had he dreamed of her last night?
He shook his head and attempted to concentrate on the boot in his grasp. He had been perfectly fine on his own for years, preferring the sanctity of his solitary company. He had kept his relationship with his crew strictly professional, and only engaged in temporary affairs. It was what he’d wanted, how he liked it. No complications. It was why he’d always kept his half-brother at a distance.
So why was Miss Pleasant Hill turning out to be different? She had nothing special to recommend her other than her brilliant red hair, and yet, she was turning out to be vastly compelling.
He needed a mistress to distract him. That was all.
Perhaps he should take a walk down to Madame LeFleur’s this evening and clear his mind of the cobwebs that had settled there, for surely nothing else could explain this strange desire that he was starting to feel for Miss Hill.
Then again, he might just get the urge to tell the lady to bugger off for treating his employee in such an ill fashion.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. If only he hadn’t needed the extra help during the Christmas season…
“Mr. Reed?”
“What is it?” he snapped a bit more harshly than he’d intended.
A pause. “It’s time for me to go.”
Cornell glanced up and saw that indeed, night had nearly fallen, and she had donned her outerwear, including that absurd cloth over her hair. “Good night, then,” he returned curtly. There was another heavy pause, the kind that made his skin crawl, so he turned to face her fully. “Was there something else?”
She cleared her throat. “I…um…wanted to invite you over for supper this evening.”
This he hadn’t been expecting. “Oh. I see,” he grumbled.
“I only wanted to pay you back for your kindness yesterday with the scone and the apple, but I understand if it doesn’t suit.” She waved a hand and started to inch toward the door, realizing that she was rambling. “Another time, perhaps.”
He rose to his feet and found himself saying, “Actually, that sounds ideal. Just let me grab my coat.”
Cornell locked the shop and huddled in his greatcoat as he walked beside Miss Hill. He still couldn’t get over how small her frame was. He felt like a giant next to a dainty, winter fairy, for with the light snow that was starting to fall around them, a few flakes catching on her long eyelashes, she looked almost ethereal.
He forced his focus back ahead of him, determined to keep his distance from wandering thoughts.
Strictly professional.
After a time, they stopped before a boarding house that had seen better days. But when Pleasant opened the door to the rooms she shared with her family, Cornell had to pause at the sight before him. It just looked so…homey and welcoming.
A modest, but cheery fire was burning in the fireplace, a middle-aged woman with graying hair sitting with a blanket on her lap and a basket of sewing materials on the floor next to her. When she spied him, her face broke into a warm smile. “You must be Mr. Reed.”
Pleasant took off her cloak and hung it on a hook next to the door. “Mr. Reed, this is my mother, Mrs. Aine Hill.”
He offered the lady a brief bow, noticing that she didn’t rise. “A pleasure, madam.”
About that time, a flurry of activity came from upstairs and three inquisitive faces came forward. “Is this the cordwainer?” the eldest boy asked, his dark hair still damp from a wash, his blue eyes inquisitive.
Cornell wanted to grin, for the imp reminded him of himself at that age, young and full of spirit.
“His name is Mr. Reed,” Pleasant corrected firmly, and he instantly lowered his head, chastised. “Mr. Reed, these are my siblings, Niall, Connor, and Fiona.”
Connor had blond hair and brown eyes, and looked as if he might be prone to more mischief than his brother. Fiona held a rag doll in her arms and looked at him through innocent, but expressive brown eyes, a generous smattering of freckles across her tiny, upturned nose. It also didn’t escape his notice that her hair was almost identical to her older sister’s.
But as they all settled down to eat the modest meal that had been prepared, cabbage soup with boiled potatoes, it was easy for Cornell to understand why Pleasant wanted to give them the moon and the stars. It was apparent that they were a close-knit family, even if Mrs. Hill wasn’t in the best health, excusing herself halfway through the meal to retire early.
As a peach dessert was served, the boys regaled them all with tales from their adventures as a pair of chimney sweeps and how one of the boys had gotten stuck. While it was a humorous tale, Cornell found that most of his interest was focused on Pleasant and her inhibited responses in an atmosphere that was familiar to her. Her laughter was free and easy, and her emerald eyes sparkled with true mirth.
It suddenly made Cornell wonder how different things might have been if…
No. He wasn’t going to go down that path. He never had, and he swore that he never would. His mother had been enough, and he’d never regretted not knowing his father. The fact that he’d sent her packing once he had seduced her and gotten her with child had been all Cornell needed to know. Whether they were from different social classes or not shouldn’t have mattered. He was a firm believer in taking responsibility for one’s actions regardless of one’s upbringing.
Here, in these small, cramped quarters in the heart of London, it didn’t matter how one held a fork, or how starched one’s cravat was. What mattered was the depth of a person’s character. While he could relate to Pleasant and her family much more than he could withstand the outward appearances to be had in Mayfair, he was still that boy who had held himself back from the rest of the children in that modest village, because no matter what occurred, he would always be an earl’s bastard son, who didn’t truly belong anywhere.
***
Pleasant could see that Mr. Reed was becoming more withdrawn as the evening wore on, so she instructed her siblings to clear the table. Once she did, he ros
e to his feet. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening, Miss Hill, but I should be taking my leave.”
She stood as well. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
As he shrugged on his overcoat and then donned his hat, he gestured to the ropes hanging from the ceiling rafters. “Dare I ask what those are used for?”
Pleasant smiled. “We hang the wash to dry inside during the winter.”
“Ah. I see. That makes sense. I’m surprised I didn’t have to dodge any linens this evening.”
She laughed, for it seemed he was actually teasing her. “Even the hardest working ladies take an evening off now and then,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she would have to collect her basket from the butcher’s after he’d departed.
“You’re standing under the mistletoe!”
Pleasant and Mr. Reed both glanced at Fiona, who had run into the room and pointed at the sprig of greenery above the front door.
“Indeed,” he rumbled deeply, and for a moment, Pleasant found it hard to breathe as she looked into his eyes.
She cleared her throat and turned to Fiona, lest she get drawn into the spell even further. “Do you know the story behind mistletoe?”
Her sister shook her head, so she gestured for Fiona to come to her side. She bent down to her level, putting even more distance between Mr. Reed and herself and said, “Mistletoe is meant to represent peace and love, but people don’t always have a small bit of greenery like we do. Sometimes mistletoe is placed through evergreen branches, which are woven into the shape of a sphere and adorned with ivy to symbolize a lady, holly to represent a gentleman. At times, even fruit, nuts, and ribbons are added for more decoration. These are called kissing boughs.”
Fiona’s brown eyes widened. “Can we get a kissing bough, Pea?”
Pleasant reached out and ruffled her hair. “I’ll do my best.”
As she scampered off, likely to share her latest information to Connor and Niall, Pleasant stood up straight once more.
