A Promise Beneath the Kissing Bough

by Tabetha Waite

  Aine ushered Niall and Fiona back upstairs to see Connor, while Pleasant was left alone with him. She walked him to the door, where they paused, right underneath the mistletoe. He glanced up and his lips twitched. “How convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

  She blushed slightly. “It’s just a silly tradition. You don’t have to—”

  He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers.

  Her response was instant. She melted into the embrace, and a rush of desire fled to his nether regions. He imagined laying her down on his bed, her gorgeous red hair spread out across his pillow, her naked body tempting him beyond all reason…

  He pulled away with great resistance. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Cornell huddled in the warmth of his coat as he walked back to his shop. No doubt, the long walk in the cold would do him some good.

  However, when he arrived, he was greeted with a surprise guest.

  “Frank,” he acknowledged curtly. Reluctantly, he unlocked the door and let the man inside. Mr. Frank Ottfield was a warden of the Worshipful Company of Tylers and Brickmakers. He was a large brute of a man and carried a lot of influence due to his massive size.

  “Reed,” was the clipped response, as the man entered and stomped the snow from his boots. “I ’ope ye have somethin’ to drink on this bugger o’ a night.”

  Cornell snorted, but after he’d removed his outerwear, he gestured for the man to follow him upstairs to his suite of rooms. The area was open and plainly furnished, with a fireplace in one corner of the modest sitting area. A single door led off of the main room to the left, into his private quarters, while a simple kitchen area was off to the right. He went to grab an extra glass and then returned to the table where a half bottle of brandy sat.

  He often enjoyed a dram of brandy before bed, but now he poured a second draught and handed it to Mr. Ottfield who had taken a chair by the fire. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Frank didn’t respond right away, but drank slowly from the tumbler. “I was tasked wit’ gettin’ yer vote.”

  Cornell sat down and propped his booted foot over his knee. “With over a hundred livery companies in this city, you’re worried about mine?”

  “Many men in this city look up t’ ye after yer service in th’ wars. They respect ye an’ that makes ye valuable.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I told you before that I don’t care for politics.”

  “Even when it puts yer trade in jeopardy?” Frank countered. “London is movin’ past our boundaries. Trade is growin’ past our reach, so if we want t’ continue t’ be taken seriously, it’s time we did somethin’ about it. There needs t’ be a reform t’ protect th’ workin’ class people.”

  He tapped his finger on the glass. “What exactly is it that you’re proposing we do? Start a revolt? Sign a petition?”

  “If it comes down t’ it.”

  In that instant, Cornell knew that this situation could get rather serious if left unattended. While he understood Frank’s point of view, neither could he ignore his conscience when it came to betraying his half-brother’s involvement in the guilds.

  He tossed back the rest of his drink, relishing the burn. He’d faced many adversaries in his years on board a ship, but this might be his most difficult. But then, even he knew that when a man was fighting for a cause he believed in, the stakes were much higher. He rose to his feet. “I’m afraid that I’ll have to regrettably decline.”

  Frank also stood, his mouth turned down at the corners in disappointment. “Ye’re makin’ a mistake.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cornell mumbled; as he headed back downstairs, putting an end to the meeting.

  As Frank was getting ready to head out the door, he turned back to Cornell with a grim expression. “Ye might be makin’ several enemies by choosin’ t’ decline our offer.”

  His eyes instantly narrowed. “I don’t appreciate threats, Mr. Ottfield,” he said softly.

  Frank shoved his hat on his head. “Then consider it a friendly warning to change your mind.”

  Cornell uttered a curse as the man left. This entire uprising was going to get out of hand unless he contacted someone who had enough power to nip this revolution in the bud.

  It looked as though he was going to pay a call on Lord Haverton after all.

  Chapter Six

  After a relatively mild day, Pleasant awoke to a light snowfall the next morning. By the time she made it to work, her bonnet and cloak were covered in white. But as she walked into the warm shop, she was instantly enveloped in a sensation that wasn’t far from the feeling when she greeted her family.

  After yesterday, Cornell Reed was quickly becoming much more to her than just an employer. The kisses he’d given her had turned her knees to jelly, and she found that her dreams were filled with thoughts of him. She had taken this position as an apprentice to try and give her siblings and her stepmother a deserving holiday, and yet, she was the one who was finding something altogether different in the process.

  However, when she walked in the shop, Mr. Reed was pacing the floor, almost impatiently. He glanced up when she entered. “Good. I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask you,” he announced brusquely.

  She slowly removed her outerwear and waited for him to continue.

  He hesitated, shoved a hand through his hair, and then blurted, “I have accepted an invitation from Lord Haverton for a private dinner this Saturday.”

  Pleasant smiled. “Oh, but that’s wonderful! I’m sure you’ll have a fabulous time, but I don’t see what that has to do with—”

  His eyes nearly bored into her. “I’d like you to come with me.”

  Pleasant’s mouth fell open, but she quickly snapped it shut. She glanced down at her serviceable, woolen dress and her cheeks instantly warmed. “I’m not sure that I have anything appropriate to wear,” she demurred.

  He waved a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Just say you’ll come.”

  “I—” She swallowed, ready to refuse again when she saw the abrupt swirl of emotion in his green eyes. It was a combination of determination and… something else, something almost… yearning. Unfortunately, when her siblings gave her the same look she was helpless to deny them anything. She clasped her hands together. “Of course, Mr. Reed. I’d be honored.”

  Relief flooded his face and he walked toward her. “I’m indebted to you, Miss Hill.” He lifted his hand and she steadied herself for another kiss, but suddenly, the little bell above the shop tinkled. His arm fell as a customer walked in.

  Pleasant used the interruption to duck into the back of the shop.

  For the rest of the morning, she threw herself into her work, desperate to push Mr. Reed out of her thoughts.

  It wasn’t until lunchtime that he approached her again. “Do you know where Madame Caron’s shop is?”

  Pleasant set down her tools and wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes. Mother does quite a bit of seamstress work for her.”

  He handed her a slip of paper. “Good. These are my instructions for your gown. Tell her if she has any questions to contact me directly.”

  She visibly swallowed. “About that, Mr. Reed.” She paused. “It seems I spoke rather hastily earlier. I’m sure Mama can alter one of my current dresses so that it’s acceptable—”

  His mouth kicked up in a grin. “I’ll see you shortly, Miss Hill.”

  With that, he promptly turned on his heel.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, after a short walk, Pleasant entered the modiste’s shop. A middle-aged woman who was slightly plump with deep red hair and wearing a fashionable empire gown of burgundy velvet turned. She looked Pleasant up and down and scrunched her nose slightly; as if she was disappointed Pleasant wasn’t some well-to-do lady upon whom she might wait.

  Even so, she was courteous enough when she said, “Good day, Miss Hill. I trust there isn’t any issue with the commissions I gave your mother.”

  “None at all,” Pleasant
returned.

  The modiste eyed her curiously. “In that case, how may I assist you?”

  For reply, Pleasant held out the missive Mr. Reed had given her. The lady lifted a brow, but she broke the seal and read the contents. “Ah. The cordwainer.” This time she peered at Pleasant with a bit more interest, and it made her wonder what he’d written. “He has very good taste.” She gestured toward the back room. “Come with me.”

  Pleasant was soon stripped down to her stays, chemise, and drawers, while the lady and her assistant measured and chatted amongst themselves in French. It made her feel entirely self-conscious, especially when the modiste lifted a hand and touched the hem of her chemise as if it was distasteful. “Are these cotton… garments the only ones you have?”

  She glanced down at her worn and mended underthings and lifted her chin. “They are for necessity, not appearance.”

  The lady clucked her tongue. “These will not do for the dress Mr. Reed is requesting. While it is fine not to wear a petticoat with your current fashion, a satin gown must have a full ensemble to be acceptable in polite society.” She turned to her assistant and began to list everything from new stays to silk stockings.

  Pleasant started to panic, and tried to cut in. “I’m sure that’s not necessary. If it is only for one evening, I can alter—”

  “No. You must be outfitted properly.” The lady held up a hand. “Mr. Reed specifically said that no expense was to be spared.”

  Pleasant clenched her hands, but didn’t try to argue further. She would merely take it up with her employer.

  Once the modiste was satisfied that she had all the measurements she required, Pleasant donned her plain gray dress. When she heard the modiste make a sound of regret, she turned around.

  “Such a pity you must cover up that gorgeous figure in rough, serviceable cotton garments. But…” Madame grinned. “Mark my words, you will look like a different woman in a Caron gown. I will not send this one to your mother, but rather I shall sew it myself. It will become one of my greatest creations.”

  ***

  The moment Pleasant returned to the cordwainer’s shop, she intended to speak with him about the cost of the extra items that Madame Caron had added to the list, but he didn’t even ask how the fitting went, only handed her a slip of paper and said curtly, “These take precedence over everything else. It’s a rush order.”

  In light of his demeanor, any protests she had instantly withered. She didn’t wish to upset him any more than he already appeared to be. “Of course, Mr. Reed.”

  Pleasant immediately walked into the back of the shop and put on her apron. But when she glanced at the special request, a burst of yearning shot through her and she couldn’t help but sigh. The customer had requested a delicate pair of satin slippers with gold embellishments. They sounded lovely, and quite expensive, and she couldn’t help but wonder who would have the pleasure of owning such artwork.

  Just once, Pleasant wanted to be able to purchase something as fine, but then, it wasn’t as if she would ever have an occasion to wear them anywhere.

  Either way, the order would likely take her two days to complete, with all the intricate beading that was required, but she would devote all her time and energy to finish them in a timely manner and make Mr. Reed, and his shop, proud.

  When it was time to close, Mr. Reed joined her to see how she was faring. When he noticed the slippers starting to take shape, he picked them up and examined them carefully. He nodded his head. “Very good work, Miss Hill. I can find no fault with them.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed.” She appreciated his praise, but she paused, wondering if he might say anything else, for it seemed odd that they should have reverted back to such formality when the day before he had kissed her quite senseless and saved her brother from certain death. But it was as if they had glossed over that part this morning.

  Then again, he had asked her to join him for dinner at the earl’s home, so at least that was something.

  However, when he didn’t seem inclined to continue the conversation, she began to gather her things to leave.

  “Miss Hill?”

  She paused to face him once more. He walked forward, and she held her breath, her heart beating furiously in her chest. He stopped in front of her and reached out to play with a strand of her hair that was still uncovered. He rubbed the lock between his thumb and forefinger, and then released her. “I never asked you how Connor was faring.”

  Pleasant wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t tried to kiss her again, but she nodded and said, “He’s well. In fact, mother couldn’t persuade him to stay home. He insisted on going with Niall to clean chimneys.”

  He grinned. “He certainly seems to be a strong one.”

  “That he is,” Pleasant agreed.

  They looked at each other for several minutes, and then Cornell glanced away. “I suppose you should—”

  “Can I ask you something?” Pleasant interrupted.

  His gaze shifted back at her. “And what is that?”

  “Why don’t you like Lord Haverton?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, as if it was something rather difficult for him to talk about. “It’s not that I don’t like him.” He paused. “He’s my half-brother.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I’m a bastard, Miss Hill,” he added without any sort of emotion. “The former earl seduced my mother, who was a common house maid. When it was found out she was with child, she was let go from service. We lived in a small village in northern England, near the coast. She died when I was fifteen. After that, I joined the navy until this past summer when I returned to London and opened my shop.”

  Pleasant’s heart ached for him. While she had been a legitimate daughter, her mother dying when she was a small child, she could only imagine what he’d had to endure growing up with such a moniker. “It must have been hard for you,” she said quietly. “No wonder you find it difficult to speak with Lord Haverton.”

  He didn’t reply.

  Without anything else to say, Pleasant offered a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good evening, Mr. Reed.”

  ***

  Cornell held his breath until she left, and then released it in a rush, shoving a hand through his hair.

  In the short time he’d known Pleasant she had befuddled his senses. For all his years on board a ship, Cornell had never stopped to consider anything beyond the present, because with so many battles to fight, he hadn’t been sure he would even make it to see the next day.

  When he’d moved back to London, he imagined that same outlook wouldn’t change. He was satisfied with his trade, and he hadn’t wanted anything more than a simple existence, alone, away from the trials of relationships and class distinctions that he’d had to live with all his life. He’d had as much blue blood as some of the men he’d commanded, and yet he was a bastard and entitled to none of the same privileges, not that he had ever asked for anything from the former earl.

  In fact, the one time he’d dared to travel to London to meet the previous Lord Haverton after his mother’s death had been enough for Cornell. That brief meeting had told him everything he’d needed to know before the door had been slammed in his fifteen-year-old face, the harsh words, “Just another worthless bastard that should have been killed at birth,” still ringing in his ears.

  But now, Cornell could actually see a future beginning to take shape, and it was all due to Pleasant’s influence. She was changing him in more ways than one. Even his outlook toward Xavier was altering. Upon arriving in London, he’d been closed off to the idea of getting to know his half-brother, regardless if he was the last of his living relations. Very few people even knew of his blood tie to the earl, and yet, he’d found it rather easy to tell Pleasant of his origins.

  He went upstairs to his rooms and found himself glancing around his sparse furnishings as if for the first time. He realized how empty it appeared, but he had never required much, having grown used to
a simple captain’s cabin.

  But for some reason, he could easily picture Pleasant flittering about, decorating the space for Christmas with all the greenery he could afford.

  And she wouldn’t be wearing that horrible gray dress. He wanted to see her outfitted in a dozen silks and satins, and burn all of the plain clothes that marked her as common, when she was far from it. She was ten times more sincere and genuine than any of those empty-headed twits that he associated with polite society.

  He found that he was suddenly anxious for Saturday, if only to see her in the gown he’d ordered from Madame Caron. Just imagining the silk stockings that would be encasing a pair of creamy, shapely legs…

  He sighed. It was going to be another long night.

  Chapter Seven

  As Pleasant was getting ready to depart on Friday, Mr. Reed told her that Lord Haverton was kind enough to send his carriage for them on the morrow, and that he would be around to pick her up about eight.

  “I’ll be ready,” she told him.

  He lifted a brow. “So Madame Caron has already sent the dress to you?”

  “She said she would have it delivered first thing in the morning.”

  “Very good.” He nodded. “And the special order shoes are done?”

  “Yes. I added the finishing touches today.” They had taken Pleasant a bit longer to complete, but she was quite sure they were the finest that she had ever made, and certainly they were the finest she had ever seen. With the delicate, glass beads and gold silk, they were fit for a princess. She hoped whoever purchased them would love them as much as she did.

  “Then I will see you tomorrow.”

  Pleasant walked out the door and had to admit that she was rather looking forward to seeing how the other half of London lived when she dined at Haverton House in Mayfair. No doubt she would enter a Palladian mansion with black and white marble floors and servants dressed to the highest degree. Priceless paintings and decades of ancestors would line the walls, and the carpets and tapestries would be of the finest quality.