by Robyn DeHart
She turned her gaze to Gareth. “Is this true?”
“The theft happened last night,” he said evenly.
It took her a second before recognition lit her eyes. “Oh,” she said brightly.
Bloody hell, but she was pretty. The blue confection she wore today magnified the contrast between her deep red hair and her fair skin. And the freckles splattered across her face formed the most intriguing patterns. Blast it, what was the matter with him? Now was not the time to notice her freckles. There was never a time to notice something so trivial.
“Did you ask Mr. Mandeville where he was last night?” she asked.
If possible, Munden’s chest expanded even more. “I know he was here late last night. Someone saw him and reported it to me.”
Meg’s gaze darted to his in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Well, then. I’m sure you must have inquired what he was doing at the factory so late.” When Munden didn’t answer immediately, she pressed him. “Surely you thought to ask such an important question.”
The foreman shook his head and swallowed visibly. “No, Miss Piddington, I did not.”
“Perhaps you should do so before you accuse him of stealing,” she said, just a hint of smugness in her voice. Her eyes merely flickered in his direction.
Gareth listened to the exchange with building dread. As much as he enjoyed seeing Munden put in his place, especially by the impassioned Miss Piddington, Gareth could see where this was going. She fully intended to clear his name by providing him an alibi. She was going to compromise them.
Not in this lifetime, lass. Providing him with an alibi for last night would all but mandate that Gareth marry her. A fact she was obviously missing. Marrying her, or anyone else, was not an option because he was not the marrying sort.
“Very well,” Munden said grudgingly. “Mr. Mandeville, what were you doing at the factory so late?” he said tightly.
Gareth looked straight at Meg and said, “I worked late, then after I retrieved my belongings from here, I went back to the boarding rooms. Alone.” There was no reason to tell Munden that he’d worked late for Jamie. Having Munden on one person’s back at a time was sufficient.
She opened her mouth to disagree, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m done with this discussion,” Gareth said, then led Meg out of the office with him.
“Why did you lie to him?” she asked once they were out of earshot.
He glared at her. “Are you dense?”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”
She was so literal. That was odd for women, who generally spoke in circles around their intentions. “Had I announced that we were locked alone together in a storeroom, it would have compromised your reputation.”
Meg blinked in surprise. As if she hadn’t expected someone like him to consider such a thing. “Well, I hardly think—”
“I am not looking for a wife, especially one obtained in such a manner. So I request you kindly keep last night to yourself.” He turned to walk away from her.
She caught up with him. “I hadn’t considered that,” she admitted.
“Evidently.” Proof that she was exactly the kind of trouble he thought she was. She was the kind of woman who acted and then considered later. Impetuous. Dangerous.
He kept walking, hoping Meg would let it go. However, she continued along beside him and he couldn’t ignore the looks they garnered from the other workers. Thankfully the grinding machines were noisy enough to mask their conversation.
“But what shall you do now? What was stolen?”
“Lady Glenworthy’s chocolate boxes. And I shall do nothing save get back to work.”
She grabbed his arm. Her brow crinkled. “Those boxes were still there when we left.”
“I know that.”
“But Mr. Munden believes you to be a thief.”
“People have believed far worse of me. It is not my concern how people view me. I’m here to do my work, not make friends.” Why did it annoy him that she seemed to believe the very best of him? He turned to walk away again, but stopped to tell her one more thing. “Miss Piddington, do not concern yourself with me or this situation.”
“But I could have relieved you of this, had you allowed me to help.”
“Well, we’ve discussed why that won’t work.”
“Because you do not wish to marry me.” She puffed out her chest and tilted her chin. “Well, might I say that I have no desire to marry you either?”
Were he not already in a piss-poor mood, he would have smiled. “Duly noted. Now, if you don’t have any further objections, I have not yet been dismissed from my position today, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
Her sparkling green eyes narrowed. “You don’t speak the same as the other factory workers.”
He found her tiring, yet he could not dismiss her as easily as he dismissed other people. There was something about her, something he’d rather not spend the time discovering. His eyes fell to her mouth. Her lips were not overly round or full, but they arched perfectly. And he knew their softness. Knew their sweetness.
Tempting as they were, he certainly could not lean in to taste them again. Not here in front of everyone.
Oh, but he wanted to.
“You sound more cultured,” she continued. “Educated,” she added with a whisper.
His frustration with the situation, with wanting what he couldn’t have, reached a boiling point. “Even poor people read books,” he snarled with far more force than he intended.
She looked affronted. “I realize that. It’s only that the majority of my father’s employees do not speak with as much refinement as you.”
Which was precisely why he needed to cease speaking to her before she suspected more of him than he was willing to reveal. Gareth shrugged, then added. “Good day to you, Miss Piddington.”
“Good day,” she said, defeat clearly lining her voice.
Her disappointment pricked at him, but he couldn’t help it. The last thing he needed was for the rest of the workers here to think he received special treatment because of his relationship with the boss’s daughter. He shook his head. He had no relationship with her, and he needed to ensure it stayed that way.
Gareth made his way to his machine and put on his apron. He’d just gotten everything started when she appeared at his side.
“I do apologize for interrupting you again, but I had one last question.”
He nodded in response.
“What shall you do about that tiny accusation?” she whispered nodding toward the office.
“Not a damn thing. He has no proof, and it matters not to me whether he believes me.”
“But he could dismiss you,” she said.
“He hasn’t yet.”
She eyed him for a moment, suspiciously, then turned on her heel, leaving him to watch her pretty ruffled bustle walk away.
She had a nice backside.
Thoughts like that would be the death of him.
As he watched Meg Piddington leave the factory office trailing after that Irish riffraff, resentment boiled in his stomach. Things were not going as planned, and he hated that. He prided himself on meticulous and rather clever plans. But one idiot, and things had really gotten shaken up.
He took a deep breath. No need to panic just yet. There had to be another way. And sooner or later he would find it.
“What are you doing here, Mandeville?”
Gareth turned his head to find Mr. Munden standing behind him. Apparently a night’s sleep hadn’t cooled the foreman’s temper.
“What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing? Working.” Gareth turned back to the machine. “Idiot,” he murmured.
“I heard you. Don’t think I didn’t hear you.”
Gareth ignored him and continued to work.
“Mandeville,” Munden roared. “I’m talking to you.”
He turned his machine off. “What?”
“We can’t be having no thief work here. Mr. Piddingto
n don’t like people who steal from him.”
“I worked yesterday, and you didn’t say anything.”
“That’s because pretty Miss Piddington was here to save you. She ain’t here today.”
Perfect.
All he needed was to lose this job. Then what would he do? He supposed he could get another job, but Piddington’s was the best factory to work for. Everyone wanted to work here. And aside from Munden’s swollen head from his “more responsibilities” since Piddington’s accident, it was the best place Gareth had ever worked.
But he would not beg this man. With Munden’s half-chewed cigar hanging from his mouth, and sweat dripping between his eyes, he looked more the part of a dealer at a gaming hell than a foreman at a cocoa factory.
By this time the rest of the machines around him had been turned off and all eyes watched.
“What are you waiting for? An escort? Get your stuff and get out.”
“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me. I’m not leaving until Piddington himself asks me to do so,” Gareth said.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Munden. I thought we settled this little conflict with Mr. Mandeville yesterday.”
At the sound of Meg’s voice, it was all he could do not to squeeze his eyes closed in exasperation. However, under Munden’s scrutiny, Gareth kept his expression carefully blank.
“Has something new arisen?” she asked.
Munden cranked his beefy body around to face the lovely Meg Piddington. Gareth gave in to the temptation to do the same. He couldn’t ignore the green and pink striped dress. It hugged her body in all the right places; the bonnet atop her red curls and the matching umbrella swinging from her wrist gave her an innocent look.
“Miss Piddington?” Munden stammered. “We still have not found those boxes, so I was ridding your father’s factory of a thief. I know he wouldn’t take kindly to a man who steals from him.”
Her delicate eyebrows arched. “Indeed. Nor would he take kindly to you dismissing someone without appropriate proof.”
At that, snickers scattered around the factory floor.
She glanced around, then took a deep breath. “Might I have a word with you, sir? In my father’s office,” she added tartly. With that she turned on her heel and walked off, clearly expecting the manager to follow her.
Which he did. Rather quickly.
The spectacle did not end at that moment, however, as Edward Piddington’s office overlooked the factory floor with a wall of windows. The old man enjoyed keeping an eye on things and ensuring he maintained a presence within his company.
So no one returned to work. With the unison of an army brigade, they all turned and looked up to the windows above them. The door shut behind Mr. Munden, and while no words were heard, it was quite evident who was in charge.
It gave Gareth the perfect opportunity to study Meg without any questions about his motive. Aside from the obvious gender difference, she was the very picture of his opposite.
He could practically hear the coins rubbing together as they jingled in her purse. Petite and fair with fiery red hair, while he was tall and dark from far too much sun. Every last inch of her was sparkling clean, from her button-up boots to that tiny bonnet perched on her head. He, on the other hand, was covered in cocoa powder. His fingernails looked as if he worked as a chimney sweep, rather than in a confectionery.
She held her dainty gloved hand out to Munden. They shook, and Munden nodded his big head. Gareth couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made a deal with the devil.
And then as quickly as she blew into the office, she was walking down the stairs. And looking straight at him.
“Please return to your duties, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “There is nothing of interest occurring. Now then,” she said as she reached Gareth’s side.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
She gave him a toothy grin. “I saved your job,” she said, clearly pleased with herself. Machines around him started up, and soon the familiar noise surrounded them.
He wished he could tell her that it wasn’t necessary, that he could take care of himself, but the truth of the matter was he needed this job, and he’d had no idea how he was going to convince Munden to let him stay on. You couldn’t really ally yourself with someone while they believed you to be a thief.
It was kind of her to stand up for him. Especially to a man such as Munden. She was plucky, he’d give her that. It had been a damn long time since someone had defended him, and part of him wanted to thank her. So long since someone didn’t make assumptions about him based on what they saw or thought they knew.
But there was a reason for her generous intervention. She’d only defended him because she knew he was innocent. That, and because Meg clearly took pleasure from being in the middle of the action. He could tell that about her from the very beginning. She enjoyed attention. And he was her newest undertaking.
So he refused to feel guilty for not thanking her, as her motives had not been genuine. So he merely nodded.
“You’re quite welcome,” she said brightly.
“I could have managed fine without you, Miss Piddington,” he lied, then cranked his machine and started the grinding to put some noise between them.
“Of course,” she said.
But something told him she knew different. She knew he’d needed saving, and that irritated him to the bottom of his scuffed boots. She was irritating, with her matching clothes and her sunny outlook. She was everything he couldn’t have and shouldn’t even want. And yet want her he did. For that reason alone, her very presence prickled his skin with annoyance. He frowned simply to spite her.
Yet he had the sudden urge to pull her to him and kiss her senseless. More than likely that was only a reaction to prevent her from talking.
She leaned over and stilled his arms. “I realize you are working now, but I do have something we need to discuss. Might you meet me later today?”
Did he have a choice? She’d saved his hide, and he owed her at least this much. Not to mention his skin was boiling beneath the heat of her touch. He nodded. “Where?”
“Here is fine. In my father’s office. I shall return this afternoon at the conclusion of your shift. I have some other appointments right now.”
“Very well.”
“Excellent. Until then,” She tapped her umbrella on the floor once, then turned to leave.
He refused to watch her retreat. As it was, the rest of the men had been eyeing them carefully. He did not need any additional attention at the moment.
“Don’t think I won’t be watching you,” a voice snarled from behind him.
Munden. What a bastard.
“Making friends with Piddington’s daughter won’t save you forever,” the foreman said.
“I have no doubt. Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, then turned his machine on, relieved finally to be able to concentrate on his work.
And concentrate on it he would, as soon as he could get the image of kissing Meg out of his mind. He should never have touched her the other night. Hell, he didn’t even know why he’d done it in the first place. He wasn’t generally in the habit of seducing wealthy virgins.
Which meant keeping his mind, mouth, and hands off Meg.
“Munden’s got it in for you,” Jamie said from across his machine.
Gareth nodded. He didn’t want to tell his friend that he would likely not be in this trouble had it not been for Jamie.
“He’s a fool,” Gareth said.
“Aye. But the lass, she’s a pretty one.”
Gareth didn’t reply to that one.
“I know you think so too. I’ve seen the way you look at her. That red hair must flame up your Irish blood.” Jamie wiggled his thick eyebrows.
Gareth chuckled. “If you spent less time worrying about flaming blood, Jamie, you might not have so many children.”
“Och. Seven’s not so many. As soon as Mary is healed up, we might go for number eight.” The Scot
laughed heartily at his own jest. “Thank you. For the other night. She gets right cranky if I’m not there when the wee ones come.”
Gareth nodded. If he had a wife who was birthing, he’d certainly want to be there.
“So what does Munden want with you? And why is the lass involved?” Jamie asked.
“He thinks I stole something. Miss Piddington is handling things while her father is out and she saved my job,” Gareth said.
Jamie grinned broadly. “She’s a good one, then, like her father.” Jamie nodded. “Good for her. Munden will get his someday. Men like him always do.”
Chapter 4
Meg waited in the phaeton outside the factory. Ordinarily she would walk over to the factory, but the slight mist in the air felt too damp. She didn’t want to go inside until the rest of the men filed out. But more so, she wanted more time. More time to breathe deeply and gather her wits.
Something about Gareth rattled her senses, an occurrence she’d never before experienced. She generally knew precisely what to say at precisely the moment it needed to be said. Or at least she always had something to say. Most of the time everything fell into place, and it made sense. But with him, she felt the utter fool. As if her stomach were tied in knots, and her tongue equally so.
It was those skills she had—her communication with people—that she’d planned to use to impress her father. Prove to him that she was ready to take on responsibility at the factory. But she’d bumbled it by losing her ability to verbalize coherently while Mr. Mandeville was about. There was still time to recover, though. It was only the kiss that had thrown off her mental acuity; she could reclaim it. Forge forward.
She’d made her first decision that would put her on the road to leading this factory. Earlier today she’d played the boss’s daughter and retained Gareth’s job. If she spoke to her father, she could secure his job indefinitely, but Meg didn’t want to handle it that way. That wouldn’t prove she could manage things on her own, and that she didn’t always need her papa’s guidance. She’d told him she would take care of things, and that was precisely what she would do.
Then there was the case of the missing chocolate boxes. There was a thief in their midst and she could not allow that. No one would steal from the factory and get away with it, not on her watch.
