This time Cornell couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Indeed. You are correct on all accounts.” He reached into his apron and pulled out a list. “These are the special orders that have priority.”
She took it from his grasp. “Does this mean—?”
“Welcome to my shop, Miss Hill.”
***
Pleasant grinned widely. It was all she could do not to throw her arms around him in appreciation, but she refrained. “Thank you, Mr. Reed.”
He then quoted her a wage that was more than what she could have possibly hoped for.
During the next hour, when customers didn’t interrupt him, he showed her where things were, and when he seemed satisfied that she was comfortable, he said, “I’ll leave the first pair of half boots in your capable hands, Miss Hill. If you have need of me, you have only to come out front and ask.”
“Yes, Mr. Reed.”
Pleasant took a seat on a stool similar to her employer’s, although she had a table to work from. There were already several pre-cut pieces of nankeen hanging up about the room in varying shades. For the most part all she had to do was thread the laces and attach the soles to these pieces, a procedure she was already familiar with.
For the next few hours, she toiled over her task while the bell above the shop door tinkled methodically. She was working so intently on her third pair that she didn’t realize it when she was no longer alone.
“I thought you might like some lunch—”
Pleasant jumped and effectively stabbed herself in the finger with the needle. “Ow.” A bright red bead of blood began to form, and she quickly shoved it into her mouth, so that it wouldn’t drip onto the light green cotton she had been sewing.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Reed said from behind her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Here,” He held out his hand to her. “Let me see it.”
“’Tis fine,” she mumbled around her finger, but when he gently tugged on the appendage, she reluctantly surrendered. She couldn’t help but notice that he’d removed his apron, leaving him in only a plain lawn shirt, breeches and boots, making him look rather dashing. Her cheeks instantly warmed, so she was glad he wasn’t looking at her.
Instead, he frowned at the slight injury and pulled a white handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers. Pleasant’s eyes widened at the sheer quality of it… right before he pressed it against her finger. “Hold this there. It will help stop the bleeding.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, although she couldn’t stop using her other hand to rub the soft cotton between her fingertips. She had never felt anything so fine, and now she had probably ruined it.
“It was a gift,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“It’s very nice,” she murmured. “I’ll launder it today. Perhaps I can get the stain out before it sets in.”
He shrugged. “It’s not dear to me, so if it doesn’t come clean, I won’t be heartbroken.”
Pleasant wasn’t sure how to respond to that curt statement. He must not have either, for he handed her a package. “What’s this?” she asked.
“Something to eat.” He glanced at her form. “You look like you could use it.”
She didn’t think it was a compliment, but she took the item from him nevertheless. “I’m more sturdy than I might appear,” she returned. But as she unwrapped the packaging and spied a scone, her mouth instantly began to water. She couldn’t remember the last time she had indulged in something so delicious. She took a bite and couldn’t stop a moan of pleasure from escaping. “It’s lovely,” she sighed. “Where did you get it?”
He stared at her for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying, but then he blinked and muttered, “The bakery down the street.” He held out an apple, which she accepted gratefully. Until then, she hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been.
“Thank you. I will pay you back for the expense, of course—”
He waved a hand and cut her off. “You’ve deserved it. I nearly forgot you were back here, and then I find that you’ve already completed two orders for some rather special customers. Lady Thistlebury and her daughter will be quite pleased their boots are early.”
He inspected her work and nodded in approval. “Very well done, Miss Hill.” He glanced at her, and his green eyes twinkled. “I think we shall get along quite nicely.”
Warmth seeped into Pleasant’s cheeks again. “I think so too, Mr. Reed.”
***
Once again, Cornell’s chest tightened. It was a rather foreign sensation, to be sure, for while he had been attracted to any number of women over the years, had partaken of his share of liaisons, they had usually been experienced courtesans who were more than willing to share their experience, and their curvaceous wares.
And yet, here was this slip of a girl, who had known loss and hardship, and was still able to live up to her name.
Pleasant.
In all of his travels on the sea, stopping at different ports across Europe and Asia, he had never met anyone like her. And suddenly, he wanted to know so much more — starting with the color of her hair, which she kept bound and out of view.
He reached out and gave the covering a light tug. He expected to see some sort of mousy brown, but instead, her hair was a deep, rich auburn, a shade so fascinating and unexpected, that for a moment, he couldn’t speak. It made all the difference to her complexion, turning her wan skin warm and appealing, and her eyes into hypnotic emeralds. “Beautiful.”
He wasn’t even aware he’d spoken aloud until her forehead puckered rather adorably. “Pardon?”
Instead of repeating what he’d said, he tossed the rag to the side. “I don’t want to see that on your head anymore.”
“But, I—”
“No. More,” he reiterated.
She sighed. “Very well. I won’t wear it in the shop.”
While he considered it a travesty for such a lovely sight to be hidden at all, he had to admit that her duties as a washerwoman might be easier if she kept her hair out of her face. He offered a brief nod and strode back to the front of the store.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day didn’t pass in the unassuming manner for Cornell as the first half had. He found himself staring off into space more times than he cared to count. Not even when he’d been on the ship, waiting for the wind to pick up the sails, had his attention drifted off so poorly. Then again, he hadn’t found his interest piqued by any of his crewmen either. But neither was it the first time he’d ever noticed a woman with striking red hair.
But combined with Miss Hill’s pitiful backstory, something that even Daniel Defoe hadn’t likely concocted in his imagination, and her willingness to work her fingers to the bone just to provide a decent holiday for her family… needless to say, it certainly made him rethink his entire character.
Exactly how long had it been since he’d spoken to his half-brother who lived right here in London?
Cornell gritted his teeth. He had to stop this awful self-doubt. It would get him nowhere. Besides, one would have thought he’d grown a stiffer backbone after years in the navy. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t witnessed his share of loss, tragedy, and death. Or that he was incapable of understanding struggle. He’d grown up doing all sorts of odd jobs just so he could help his mother make ends meet. When she’d passed, he was only fifteen. Without any other option open to him that he was amenable to, he’d signed on as a cabin boy, and worked his way up the ladder until he finally made captain, a spot he’d held until this past July when he’d finally decided he’d had enough of blood and battle to last a lifetime. So, he’d returned to English soil and opened his shop at the beginning of August, and for the past four months had already built a steady following that he was proud of.
Although that decision might have never come to pass if it hadn’t been for the death of his father…
And that was enough of that.
With his jaw set, Cornell pushed any further thought of his past and the intrigu
ing Miss Hill out of his mind and set to work.
Chapter Three
Pleasant stretched her arms behind her head and looked at her accomplishments of the day. She was rather pleased that she’d managed to sew two more boots together, as well as starting a pair of kid slippers when she finally set down her tools. Her stomach was growling, for the sun was nearly set, but her workday had just begun. There was still laundry to gather and finish before it was time for bed.
And then she would start the process all over again. She just kept telling herself that it would all be worth it in the end. She might even make enough from her apprenticeship that Mr. Reed might consider taking her on full time and she could quit the laundry service altogether. But then, that was probably just an unattainable dream, like many things in her imagination, girlish fantasies that she had long since pushed aside for the harsh realities to survive.
“Do you need me to hail a hackney for you?”
She glanced at her employer, who stood framed in the doorway, his negligent pose completely alluring. He looked just as he did at lunchtime in his casual attire, and it nearly stole her breath. No other man had ever done that to her before. Granted, several had propositioned her and even made advances, but she had rebuffed them time and again. It was one reason she’d always covered her hair. It wasn’t out of any sense of personal vanity, other than the fact it had always drawn unwanted attention.
Until now. She’d rather liked the fact he’d flung her covering to the side and demanded that she keep it off. Had daydreamed about it for the rest of the day, because any recognition that she received from him was far from undesired.
But if she wished to keep her position and not turn into a fallen woman, she had better keep her focus on shoes and nothing more.
Pleasant recalled that he’d asked her a question, so she said, “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
He frowned, and she almost smiled. He scowled more than anyone else she knew. “But the weather is barely inhabitable out there.” He paused. “How far away do you live?”
“Not far,” she demurred. “It’s but a short walk.” She didn’t want to tell him that she had to collect her basket of laundry from Madame LeFleur’s first. And if she wished to keep the lady’s business, she had best get on her way. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, she scurried outside.
The brisk wind nearly stole her breath. She had nearly forgotten that it was winter with the cheery fire burning in the back room of Mr. Reed’s shop. It had kept her quite comfortable all day. It wouldn’t be the same when she returned home, for they had to conserve their coal, but at least she would be out of the weather.
As she walked, Pleasant was glad that she hadn’t worn pattens that day. The metal would surely cause her to slide all over the slick cobblestones. Even so, she placed her steps carefully, so that she wouldn’t have an accident.
Pleasant had never liked going to Madame LeFleur’s establishment, but since she was one of her better paying customers, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the servant’s entrance, as she normally did for a delivery.
It was quickly opened by one of the ladies who worked there, and that was using the term rather graciously. Pleasant had never cared for Violet, and she was quite sure the feeling was mutual. With kohl-lined eyes and bright, henna-red hair, a dress that was barely covering her bodice, Violet snapped, “Where ’ave ye been all day? The Madame’s in a near fit!” She grabbed hold of Pleasant’s arm and hauled her roughly inside.
“I’m… sorry,” Pleasant muttered. “I have a new position with the cordwainer and I—”
“I dinna want t’ ’ear yer excuses,” the woman returned abruptly. She inclined her head toward the hallway. “She’s waitin’ for ye ’n th’ parlor.”
“But…” Pleasant stared toward that area uncertainly. “I always pick up the basket at the door.”
Violet crossed her arms. “I’m just doin’ wha’ she told me,” she said impatiently. “Now go, if’n ye wanna keep yer job here.”
Pleasant clenched her fists in frustration, but seeing as how there was no way to refuse, for her existence truly was in another’s hands, she strode forward.
As she drew closer, she heard raucous laughter drifting out from the open doorway. She had never dared to traverse this far, but then, she had never needed to before. For the past six months, she had always been greeted by one of the Madame’s “ladies” at the back door where they would conduct business. However, she’d never been this late with a pick-up before.
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?”
A Promise Beneath the Kissing Bough Page 2
