Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Merrill

  She did stop, so suddenly that she heard him stumble behind her while trying to maintain a proper distance between them. Then she turned and looked back at him, trying not to be intimidated by the nearness of him, or the way she had to look up to see his face. ‘Have you ever been followed, Mr Solomon?’

  He considered for a moment. ‘On several occasions. A memorable example was the time a pair of cutpurses tried to trap me in a blind alley. It did not go well for them,’ he added.

  ‘If you have, then you will know that it is useless for either of us to pretend that I do not know you are there. Your presence is...very distracting.’

  At this declaration a slow smile spread across his face, as if he understood exactly what her problem was. Then he replied in a voice that was polite and professional, ‘I cannot leave you alone. My job would prevent that. But there is no reason that I cannot walk at your side, if it does not offend you.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said with a sigh. It was hardly an improvement but, short of running back to the house like a coward, she could not think of a better solution.

  They walked in silence for a while, which gave her too much time to brood on the happenings of the previous day. ‘Mr Solomon.’

  ‘If you are about to ask me about the kiss, it was a mistake. Nothing more than that. I know that my infringement on your person was inappropriate and I sincerely apologise. You need not worry that it will happen again.’

  It seemed that his mind had worked much the same as hers did, when left with too much silence. That was some comfort, at least. Although he had been awfully quick to deny it just now. She agreed with him, of course. But a moment of wistful hesitation would have been a salve to her pride.

  ‘You were crying,’ he said, filling in the silence she had created, as if it made him uncomfortable. ‘And I am hired to solve problems.’

  ‘You viewed my display of emotion as a problem?’ she said, more interested than surprised.

  ‘It was something that needed fixing,’ he said. ‘And the kiss put a stop to it.’

  She sighed. ‘That is very like a man.’

  ‘I should hope so,’ he said. ‘I am male and can be expected to behave as one.’

  ‘I did not mean it as a compliment,’ she said, narrowing her eyes in his direction, then looking straight ahead again.

  ‘Then exactly what did you mean?’

  ‘The tears were not the problem. They were a reaction to the problem. In stopping them, you did not solve anything more than your discomfort at their presence. My problem still remains.’

  He thought for a moment, then said, ‘I see.’

  ‘The trip out of the house is making me feel a bit better,’ she admitted. ‘It would be improved if you were not following me, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed, not bothered by the statement.

  But had it been true? She was not sure. At the moment, his company was not bothering her in the least. And it was good to have someone to talk to who had more sense than Molly.

  ‘Do you like working for my brother?’ she asked, to remind herself that he was really not that much different than the maid.

  ‘He pays well,’ Michael said absently. ‘And promptly. That is better than much of the peerage, who seem to think that their patronage is some sort of honour that does not require compensation.’

  ‘But do you enjoy what you are doing right now?’ she said. It would be foolish of her to convince herself that this was a normal conversation when he was only here because his job required it.

  He considered again. ‘He has not asked me to do anything that would violate my personal code of honour. Though you do not want me to follow you about the town, it is more an inconvenience to you than actual harm.’

  ‘True,’ she admitted.

  ‘And I have been asked to do more difficult things than escort a young lady down Bond Street and stand meekly by as she chooses ribbons. So, today at least, I enjoy working for your brother.’ Then he smiled at her in a way that went far beyond professional courtesy.

  She held her breath for a moment, then asked about the thing that most troubled her. ‘When you have spoken to him, has he given any indication that he might be unstable?’

  The pause that followed was a trifle too long. ‘No more so than any other jealous older brother,’ he said, then added, ‘and I hope you do not tell him about this. I doubt he would understand.’

  ‘It will be our secret,’ she said. If, as she suspected, he was lying about her brother to protect her feelings, she did not dare let Hugh suspect that there was anything between them. Though Mr Solomon seemed to be able to take care of himself, she did not want to see him end up like Richard Sterling. She glanced at him again, remembering the feel of his lips, and could feel herself blush.

  ‘Now, what is it that you wish to get?’ he said, pretending not to notice her interest.

  They had reached the shops, and she looked around her, unsure. The intent in leaving home had never been to make purchases. Then she thought of the bonnet she had destroyed yesterday, and went to a milliner’s, and then another. After enough dithering to drive any gentleman mad with frustration, she chose a bonnet dressed with blue ribbons and delicate forget-me-nots.

  When she went to hand it to the shop girl, she turned to her companion.

  Instead of yawning in boredom, Mr Solomon gave a nod of approval.

  ‘You like my choice?’

  ‘The blue suits you well,’ he said, as if the matter should be obvious. ‘The flowers bring out the colour of your eyes.’

  She glanced in the mirror again, looking at her own eyes. Of course, she was aware that it had looked well on her. But it was a surprise that he could tell what colours flattered her, when it was clear after yesterday’s discussion that two years had made no such impression on Alister. ‘It should not be your business what colour suits my eyes,’ she said, annoyed.

  ‘True,’ he replied. ‘But I would be lying to claim that I had not noticed that they are a very lovely blue.’

  He had looked at her eyes. The thought made her blush again, for it was another proof that he viewed her as something more than just a nuisance. ‘And I suppose you have formed an opinion about my dress as well.’

  ‘Though some colours might favour you more than others, even the plainest of gowns does not diminish your beauty,’ he replied. ‘But surely you are aware of that.’

  In truth, she was not. It had been so long since she had worn a ballgown that she had almost forgotten what she looked like when she was trying to impress. Though Alister had told her that she was pretty, he did not usually waste the time they shared with compliments. And she doubted her brother noticed her at all. ‘It is kind of you to say so,’ she said, her face downcast. Then she peered at him through her lashes, less in an effort to flirt than out of fear of looking directly into his eyes.

  They stepped out onto the street and he held out a protective arm as a shop boy ran past, almost colliding with her. Then he held out his hand for her package, showing no sign of embarrassment at the prospect of carrying a lady’s hatbox. During her brief time with Richard, he had been far more interested in telling her about himself than he had in hearing about her wants and needs. Alister was better than that, but the closer she got to marriage, the more it seemed that he would be deciding their likes and dislikes and making all the plans for both of them.

  She looked up at Mr Solomon, who was guiding her across the street towards a parfumier’s, watching out for traffic and keeping her clear of the muck of the street. He was so kind and so helpful, and not the least bit annoyed that she chose their route.

  And then she remembered that none of it was a matter of affection. He was paid to keep her out of trouble. Apparently, the best way to do it was to flatter her eyes and cater to her every whim. The kiss that he had given her yesterday was part of the job as well.
r />   She was about to tell him that none of this was necessary when a voice sang out from the pavement ahead of them.

  ‘Michael! Michael! Yoo-hoo!’ An attractive woman was bustling towards them, furiously waving a handkerchief to get Liv’s escort’s attention. Though he was a handsome man who had garnered more than his share of female attention from the girls they had passed, this lady was a trifle old to be casting after someone like Michael Solomon. There were threads of silver in the blonde curls peeping out from under her bonnet. And she could not have been interested in courtship for the hat was a widow’s deep black, as was her stylishly cut pelisse, decorated with jet beads.

  Though she was dressed for deep mourning, her mood was happy enough and her style was of the latest mode, as if to show that while she might not wish to look for a husband, she was not so lost in grief that she did not want men to notice her. But the man she was waving at winced and turned deliberately away, pretending not to see.

  Liv smiled, surprised to see him so put out, and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn back the way they had come, towards the strange woman. ‘I think someone is looking for you.’

  ‘She should not...’ he muttered, then added more loudly, so that the woman could hear him, ‘I am working.’

  ‘I do not mind,’ Liv said with a laugh, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘It would be terribly rude to cut her in the street.’

  ‘Michael,’ the woman said, puffing slightly at the exertion of catching them up, ‘I never expected to see you here.’

  ‘Because I am on business,’ he said. When he spoke, his lips barely moved, as if he wished it were possible to make the whole situation pass without having to speak at all.

  ‘And who is this charming creature you are escorting?’ the woman said, beaming at Liv. ‘You have never mentioned her, I am sure.’

  ‘I mentioned her at breakfast, just the other day,’ he said, giving the woman a warning look.

  Liv raised her eyes in surprise, for clearly the two were better acquainted than she had assumed. The fact that either of them would mention breakfasting together was truly shocking.

  Michael immediately realised his mistake and announced, ‘It is not as it sounds.’

  The other woman huffed and rolled her eyes at him. ‘Really, Michael, you must acknowledge me now, if only for the sake of my honour.’

  ‘By all means, Michael,’ Liv said, goading him onward. ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘Lady Olivia Bethune,’ he said, teeth gritted. ‘May I present Mrs John Solomon. My mother.’

  The widow Solomon dropped a curtsey. ‘Delighted to meet you, Your Ladyship. You are the sister of the Duke of Scofield, are you not?’

  ‘The eldest of his two sisters,’ Liv supplied.

  ‘He might not have told you, but Michael has a charming house in Cheapside, on Gracechurch Street, with space enough to take in his poor mother so that she does not need to be alone.’ She said this with a twinkle in her eye, as if, even were she not living with her son, she was unlikely to be too lonely.

  ‘She is not interested, I am sure,’ Mr Solomon said, glaring at his mother.

  ‘On the contrary,’ Liv replied. ‘I am fascinated. Your son has told me very little about his personal life.’

  ‘Because it is none of your business,’ Solomon snapped, then blanched with embarrassment. ‘I do not normally discuss my work when at home,’ he said. ‘Particularly not when it involves a gentle born lady.’

  ‘He did not give me any of the details,’ his mother said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘I worked those out for myself. You are the heiress that is trying to elope against her brother’s wishes?’

  Liv could not help smiling, for Mrs Solomon’s cheerful nature was infectious. She dropped a modest curtsey and said, ‘None other. And your son tracks me like a bloodhound each time I leave the house.’

  Mrs Solomon put her hand to her heart in a dramatic gesture of surprise. ‘Your brother is a heartless man if he insists on standing in the way of young love. But then, we all suspect the worst of him,’ she added in a whisper.

  ‘Mother!’ Liv did not have to look at Mr Solomon to know that he was horrified by his mother’s comment.

  ‘It is all right,’ she said softly. It was almost a relief to finally hear someone say aloud what everyone must think when they saw a member of her family. She smiled at Mrs Solomon. ‘It is not easy, being the sister of the Duke of Scofield.’

  ‘Well, I am glad that he is allowing Michael to walk out with you,’ she said with a nod of approval.

  ‘He is not allowing me to go about with her,’ Michael said, a hint of desperation in his voice. ‘I have been hired to watch her.’

  His mother glanced down at the hatbox in his hand. ‘Of course, dear. I am sure that is all it is.’

  Liv tried not to giggle. It was clear that the poor woman had aspirations on behalf of her son. ‘He is only trying to prevent me from eloping with another gentleman. Our shopping trip is a distraction.’

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ the other woman said, reaching out and patting her hand. ‘If you have your heart set on another gentleman, then by all means run to Scotland. You will not regret it.’

  ‘Do not listen to her,’ Mr Solomon muttered.

  ‘My Mr Solomon and I eloped, and it was quite the thing.’ His mother gave a heavy sigh. ‘He is gone now, alas. Since shortly after Michael was born.’

  ‘And you still mourn him,’ Liv said, looking at the black dress. She had assumed, from the full mourning the woman wore, that the loss was much fresher.

  ‘A love like ours could never be repeated,’ Mrs Solomon said with another sigh. ‘He was very gallant, and we were very much in love.’

  ‘Enough!’ her son announced. ‘Lady Olivia does not need to hear your stories.’

  ‘That is all right,’ Liv said, surprised at his anger now that the conversation had finally turned from her and her family. ‘I do not mind.’

  The woman smiled at her fondly. ‘You are too kind. Michael has heard it all too many times to be affected by it. But I was once young and in love and understand the desire to follow your heart, despite what family may say. Trust me, my dear, if this is what you truly want, you will find a way, no matter what Michael might do to stop you. I disobeyed my parents and, despite all that happened after, I never regretted it for a moment.’

  ‘Not another word,’ Michael said in a warning tone.

  His mother sighed and looked to her son. ‘Very well, I will leave you to your business.’ Then she smiled at Liv and winked. ‘And I wish you luck on your impending marriage. But if it does not work out, then you might consider looking right under your nose.’ She drifted away as her son turned a violent shade of red.

  Liv looked after her. ‘That was very interesting.’

  ‘It was nothing of the kind,’ he barked, turning and walking hurriedly down the street as if he’d forgotten that he was meant to be following her.

  She hurried after him. ‘I never thought about you having a mother.’

  ‘Did you think I sprung full blown from the head of Zeus?’ he said, staring back at her in amazement. ‘Of course I have a mother. Everyone does, whether they like it or not.’

  ‘I mean living,’ she said, immediately feeling foolish. ‘And living with you,’ she added.

  ‘It is not as if I would put her out in the street,’ he said, looking over his shoulder at his mother’s retreating back as if he might wish to do just such a thing at this moment.

  ‘My mother is dead, of course,’ Liv added. ‘She was lost birthing Peg. I cannot tell if I remember her or have imagined what I wanted her to be.’

  ‘Well, mine is alive,’ he said, his shoulders set defensively. ‘And, for all I know, my father is alive as well.’

  ‘But your mother...’ Liv made a gesture to encompass the drama of
his mother’s full mourning dress.

  ‘There is no John Solomon,’ he replied, his mouth set in a bitter line. ‘When I was old enough to notice that her stories changed depending on her mood, I set out to look for him. The Solomon family turned me away at the door when I asked after him. There is no record of his death or their wedding, other than the mention of him on the church register as being my father. And she could have written any name in that spot.’

  ‘But that would mean...’ she said, surprised.

  ‘That I am a bastard. Either John Solomon’s or someone else’s. And that my mother made up an elaborate story to save face after I was born,’ he completed. ‘My mother received regular payments to cover the cost of my upbringing and tuition at a decent school. But I have been unable to find the source of them. Her family was no help at all and slammed the door in my face when I came to them with questions.’

  ‘So that might mean that she has been in mourning for a man who does not exist,’ she said, embarrassed that he was revealing such details.

  ‘She has worn black for twenty-nine years to hide the truth,’ he said with a bitter quirk of his lips. ‘She is quite mad, you see.’

  ‘All the same, I enjoyed speaking with her,’ Liv said, still finding it hard to believe that there was anything odd about the woman they had met. She seemed not just ordinary, but quite charming.

  ‘She has been fostering the delusion for so long that she cannot tell it from reality,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And the fact that she would hint that you and I...’

  ‘She is a proud mother,’ Liv replied, wondering that, even after kissing her, he found the prospect of the two of them together to be so unlikely.

  ‘She was talking nonsense,’ he said gruffly. ‘And, unlike her, I know my place, which is so far beneath you as to make a connection between us impossible. Your brother would be appalled to think that I was mistaken for anything else but a footman.’

  ‘My brother does not enter into this conversation,’ she said, not wanting to consider what might happen if Hugh found out that she considered this man a friend or, perhaps, something more.