‘His death was...unexpected. This is all I have left of him. I could not bear to part with it.’
She felt the weight of guilt growing heavier with every embellishment of her story. It made her uncomfortable to lie to him, she did not want to do it. Her only consolation was that as soon as the road was clear she would leave Dell House and the enigmatic Gabriel Shaw. Mrs Hopwood would disappear for ever and she could once again be plain Miss Nancy.
She was startled to feel such little comfort in the thought. She loved her life at Prospect House, didn’t she? She had her friends there and more than enough work to fill her days. Standing here with this man, this stranger holding her fingers, she suddenly realised why she threw herself into her work each day. It was to tire her, to help her sleep through the lonely nights. She withdrew her hand and returned to her seat.
‘But I did not come here to talk about me.’
‘Ah.’ He refilled the wine glasses. ‘Now we get to it.’
‘Yes. I want to know about you, Mr Gabriel Shaw.’
‘How flattering.’ He sat back and smiled at her. ‘Very well. I am not married, and have no intention of taking a wife. Why limit myself to one woman when I can have a dozen mistresses?’ He added wickedly, ‘So I am quite unattached at the present time, Mrs Hopwood, if that is what you were wondering.’
‘That is not what I meant at all!’ Nancy bit her lip, blushing.
He was teasing her, trying to distract her. She could not allow that. Yet now that the moment had come she did not want to ask him about his business here. She was suddenly afraid that she might not like the answers. But it must be done. Nancy squared her shoulders and looked him in the face.
‘Who are you, Mr Shaw? How do you come to be living here?’
‘I came here from London, to, er, rusticate.’
‘You are running away from some scandal, perhaps?’ It would be a woman, she thought, remembering the jolt of awareness she had experienced when he had caught her hand in his own, strong grasp. With his handsome face and undoubted charm, he was almost irresistible.
Another thought to be firmly quashed.
‘Something like that.’ He fixed his eyes on his wine glass, twisting it round by the stem. ‘I brought only one servant. As you have noticed, John Thoresby is much more to me than a mere valet. We have been together for years. He is a man of many talents and I need no one else to look after me while I am here.’ He looked across the table at her. ‘So, there you have it, Mrs Hopwood, I am an ordinary single gentleman, on a repairing lease.’
He was smiling at her, his blue eyes warm, and she had to fight against the sudden tug of attraction. He was trying to bamboozle her and she was having none of it.
She said, ‘I do not believe you are what you say, Mr Shaw. Ordinary gentlemen might be set upon, robbed and left for dead, but footpads do not normally take the trouble to strip their victim of his coat and then carry him several miles to a secluded spot to die. When William returned from East Markham he told me the snow had been much worse there. Several inches had fallen and the continuing icy weather means there is no sign of it thawing. If I had not found you, your body might have been lying in that copse for weeks.’
‘Since my attackers did not speak to me, I cannot tell you why they chose to do that, but it is no matter. I am alive, thanks to your timely ministrations, but I have imposed enough on your goodwill, madam. There is no longer any need for you to delay your journey, I am well on the way to a full recovery.’
‘On the way, yes, but you are barely able to walk without help.’
‘My strength will return very quickly now I am up and about. John Thoresby can do all I need.’
But the puzzle of the attack upon Gabriel Shaw was preying upon Nancy’s mind. She shook her head.
‘Mr Thoresby may be well enough to wait upon you, but he is not yet fully recovered from his cold. A trifling illness in itself, perhaps, but he would need all his strength and his wits, too, should it be necessary to defend you.’
‘Defend me!’ He laughed. ‘What nonsense is this?’
She was not tempted to smile. ‘You told me yourself, when I came upon you in the wood. Someone wants you dead, Mr Shaw.’
* * *
Gabriel looked at the woman sitting opposite and felt his exasperation growing. He did not want her mixed up in his affairs, yet she was proving damnably difficult to shift. Perhaps he had been too polite.
‘And if they do, what concern is it of yours, madam?’
Her brows went up. She said lightly, ‘After the effort I have put into saving you, I do not intend to let anyone kill you now.’
‘Very well, let us admit there is some danger. Staying here might jeopardise your own safety. I cannot take you into my confidence—’
‘Well, you should.’
‘Damnation, woman, I do not want you here!’
She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, giving him back look for look.
‘Since you are not yet well enough to physically throw me out of this house, Mr Shaw, I think you should give in gracefully, do not you?’
His sense of the ridiculous got the better of him and his lips twitched. She did not miss it and her own generous mouth widened into a broad smile.
‘That is much better, sir. Now, I will call Hester and we will take these dishes to the kitchen—’
‘No. I pray you will allow John and your companion to take care of that. I should like you to stay and talk to me.’
‘That I cannot do.’ She walked to the fireplace and tugged at the bell pull. ‘You need your rest, sir. Hester and I will clear everything away and your man can help you back to bed.’
Confound it, she refused to quit the house, even though he had said she was in danger. But now she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of her company! Damned contrary woman.
She turned to look at him, saying innocently, ‘I beg your pardon, did you speak?’
He gave a growl of frustration. ‘You are the most managing female I have ever encountered.’
Her eyes gleamed with mischief and she was not a whit offended.
‘Hen-witted, too. You called me that in the wood. And eccentric,’ she added thoughtfully.
‘I did? I don’t remember it. Most likely I was trying to get rid of you.’
‘You were clearly suffering from the blow to your head, so I forgave you for your incivility. But I could not leave you then and I will not leave you now.’
With that she took a tray of dishes and sailed out of the room.
Chapter Four
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 ai
r.
‘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?’
The Highborn Housekeeper (Saved From Disgrace Book 3) Page 4
