She donned her chemise and the dress she’d put on to make good her escape. Naturally, no pins or ribbons were atop the washstand, so she simply made use of Blake’s brush and tamed her curls as best as she could. Leaning forward, she stared into the mirror atop the washstand. She was no longer an untried girl, and yet her outward appearance blessedly showed nothing of the wanton she’d been last evening.
The door opened as she left the dressing room and a smiling Blake entered, holding two dishes laden with steaming eggs and slices of smoked ham. Her stomach growled and he laughed in response.
“Come and eat, bride.”
The address struck her as odd as his offer had the night before. Taylor bit her lip and walked toward him. “Blake, about your offer of last evening. I don’t see why you should take the burden of my care upon yourself.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “You’re not a burden, Taylor.”
His honor had prompted him to make the offer, then. She felt a combination of relief and disappointment. Had she expected him to declare his love for her? For a moment her heart fluttered at the mere possibility. She wanted to tell him of her own feelings but how could she? Profess her love like a silly girl while he undoubtedly only thought of duty and obligation? In the next moment, her heart sank back where she supposed it should stay.
“But you don’t owe me anything, save for your promise to find Robert. I fully accept what happened last night.
“We were intimate, Taylor,” he cut in. “We’re to be married as soon as I can see to the arrangements.”
His vehemence came as no true surprise to her. She’d often seen it when his mind was focused on one of his missions. A horrible possibility niggled at the back of her mind and she gave a shake of her head to quiet it. Turning a winning smile in his direction, she nodded. “Very well, Blake.”
Taylor sipped calmly from her teacup. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he studied her closely.
“What say you, love, to another trip into Homerton?”
“That would be lovely,” she admitted with a small smile. “I daresay my gowns could use a few more trimmings.”
He laughed softly and she arched a brow in question.
“I believe your groom should provide you with your trousseau,” he said. “The little dress shop should be able to accommodate us, I wager.”
Excitement filled her. “Oh, Mrs. Smythe has the loveliest things in her shop, Blake.”
“Capital,” he said with a nod. “I have some business this morning, but I imagine I’ll be ready for our outing within the hour.”
Taylor nodded. She shifted on the chair, wincing at the discomfort between her thighs the motion caused, and picked up a sweet roll from the tray.
“Did I hurt you last evening?” he asked gently.
She stilled, a roll on its way to her mouth. After replacing the pastry on the tray she ran her hands over her wrinkled gown. She knew he could see her nervousness when he leaned forward and took her hands in his.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said softly. “I’m a clod.”
She offered him a small smile and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll recover, I daresay,” she said. Her gaze shifted to her slippers. “I’ll endeavor to withstand our coupling in the future.” She heard him stifle a sound that seemed suspiciously like a chuckle and she lifted her head to glare at him. “What, pray, do you find humorous?”
“Nothing at all,” he said with a gentle smile. “You were a virgin, my love. There is always pain the first time. Our coupling will cause no more pain to you. You have my word.”
She read the sincerity there in his gaze. “Thank the good Lord.” When he looked at her in confusion, she laughed. “As you are aware you’re a very . . . large man, Blake. If there was to be pain every time I can’t imagine how I would withstand it.” She waved a hand. “It didn’t last overlong, I assure you.”
“That is a relief.” He smiled and dropped a kiss on her fingers. “I sometimes forget that you lost your mother when you were very young.” His eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose your father instructed you on the goings-on between a man and a woman.”
“Hardly.” She laughed again. “I can just see Father’s face, flush red as beets as he described what you and I did together.”
Blake laughed with her. “Finish eating,” he said, coming to his feet. “I’ll order a bath for you.”
“Oh, a bath would be wonderful! Thank you, Blake.”
With another bow, he took his leave from the chamber and left her to recover her composure in solitude.
The bath was as delightful as Taylor had anticipated. Her muscles eased, her skin soothed, she washed her hair and worked the lather through the worst of the tangles. As she dried herself, a knock came at the door. She lowered the towel and peered around the privacy screen, eyeing the door with trepidation. “Y-yes?”
“It’s Sally, Miss,” came the answer. “Mr. Thompson asked me to see to you this mornin’.”
Embarrassment threatened to swamp her. She ducked back behind the privacy screen and bade the girl to enter.
“I brought your blue dress, Miss,” the girl told her. “And a few hair notions.”
The maid also handed Taylor a fresh chemise and petticoat, and hummed as she waited for Taylor to dress. Taylor nearly felt like herself after a few minutes and set aside any lingering embarrassment as Sally took her care into her capable hands.
* * *
Blake sat in the front room of the pub, the wooden bench hard beneath him. He’d ignored Polly and Annie’s knowing glances as he located Sally in the kitchen and sent her to see to Taylor’s needs. The look of disapproval from Mrs. Mott hadn’t been so easily deflected. The woman had taken to Taylor, that was certain. Taylor, that little innocent who seemed to quickly wind the people in his employ around her delicate finger.
He thought back to his odd conversation with Taylor in his room. She couldn’t voice any argument that would stay him from his chosen course. They were to be married, and in as much haste as he could manage. The reason he’d given her wasn’t entirely untrue, he wouldn’t compromise a young woman like her and then not offer for her, but his words hadn’t been accepted as he might have hoped. She’d bowed far too swiftly to his edict, much as she had weeks ago when he first ordered her to keep to her room. And while she hadn’t disobeyed him precisely, she’d endeavored to make a place for herself at The Hideaway in spite of his words. If he had to be honest, he was glad she had. The changes she’d made at The Hideaway were visible everywhere. He glanced at the crisp linens and pretty flowers on every table. He smiled at the thought of building a future with her. She would bring sunshine and flowers into his dark life. But was that enough? Did he want more from her? What of love?
She would be having her bath about now. His mind wandered to her lovely little body in the steaming water, that glorious hair wet and clinging to her rosy skin as it had wrapped itself around him in his bed. Once again, his body hardened. He swore softly and shifted on the bench beneath him.
“Tea, Thompson?” Polly asked him.
He looked up and found the girl grinning. Turning a scowl in her direction, he waved her away and focused his attention on the bit of street he could glimpse out the mullioned window beside the door. Skirts rustled behind him, and he turned to find Taylor standing expectantly in the entryway. Her hair was dressed in another elegant style, a few golden curls left to frame her face. Her simple dress, this one of dark blue, hugged her shape beautifully, if modestly. Then again, in his view, she could wear a brown sack and her loveliness would still shine.
A smile curved his lips as he stood. “Hello, love.”
Her smooth cheeks pinkened at the endearment and he longed to draw her to him and cause that blush to deepen. She busied herself with the ties of her bonnet, finally placing it on her head. “I’m ready for our outing, Blake.”
“Then let’s be off,” he returned, holding his arm out to her.
Taylor took his arm and they stepped out
into the May sunshine. The sounds of commerce met his ears, the narrow cobblestone street teeming with carriages and horses and pedestrians. The myriad of smells that spoke of any given village in southern England struck him as almost pleasant today; the sweet scent of the woman beside him tempered the smells of leather and horses and refuse. He glanced down the street at the various storefronts and turned his head toward her. “What say you, Taylor, to our first stop being the dressmaker’s?”
A bright smile broke over her face and he felt his pulse quicken.
“That would be wonderful, Blake,” she nodded. “A few more ribbons and the like—”
“You’re to purchase dresses, Taylor,” he cut in. “As simple or fancy as you wish, I leave the choice up to your good taste. But you’ll have new dresses.”
She glanced down at her gown. “I daresay I could do with one or two new gowns.” Her eyes sparkled. “I admit, I am excited at the thought of dresses, Blake. You might think me silly but it’s been some time since I’ve been to the dressmaker.”
He nodded. “Then you shall have as many as you fancy.” And if she ultimately fought him on this he’d simply appeal to the dressmaker for her kind assistance in that regard.
“And a new bonnet?” he said. “The sun can get quite strong here as in Sussex.”
She glanced up at the skies that were nearly as clear and sparkling as her eyes at present. Facing him once more, she inclined her head toward him. “I daresay I’m quite looking forward to getting out in the sunshine.”
“The spring air brings a vibrancy to your complexion, that’s certain,” he said. “I look forward to our taking a turn about Homerton now and again, bride.”
The crowded streets obviously delighted Taylor. She clasped her hands before her and fairly bounced along the cobblestone street. Several gentlemen nodded to the couple as they made their way toward the dressmaker’s, and Blake sought to ignore the open speculation on the faces of the men who frequented The Hideaway. True, Taylor had kept herself from the dining room in the evenings for over a fortnight. But a man couldn’t see her once and then forget her. She was his, damn it. And so she’d be forever.
“What a lovely day,” she sighed.
He grinned at the delight making her eyes sparkle. “I daresay it might rain this afternoon,” he teased. “There are quite a few clouds gathering.”
She clicked her tongue and waved a graceful hand at him. “It won’t rain until our outing is well and finished,” she said with a tilt of that little chin.
“Well, I’m not a great enough fool to argue with a lady bent on shopping,” he offered in mock-seriousness, earning a lovely smile from his intended.
They stopped at the dressmaker’s, and Blake didn’t miss the interest on Taylor’s face as she peered into the multi-paned window. The dresses and various fripperies meant nothing to him, save for his expected delight in giving them to her. Ah, she’d no doubt purchase some stays, more’s the pity. He held the door for her and followed her inside.
Mrs. Smythe remarked at her great joy at seeing Taylor again. Taylor greeted the shopkeeper with the same open friendliness that set her apart from most other gently-bred ladies of his acquaintance. She was much like the sweet girl she’d been back in Sussex. It set her apart then and it made her even more special now.
Mrs. Smythe greeted him with some deference and he imagined he knew the reason. The butcher’s daughter was well-liked in the village, and no doubt her father’s wide mouth had stretched further in the telling of Timmy’s escape and subsequent return. The other ladies in the shop eyed him in their usual fashion, a discomfiting combination of disdain and hunger. He kept himself to The Hideaway and away from these bored country wives.
“Miss Shelby is to be my bride, Mrs. Smythe,” Blake announced in the crowded shop. “Pray, show her some gowns befitting her beauty.”
The ladies’ faces now showed their curiosity at the lovely young woman in their midst. Murmurs could be heard and Taylor edged a bit closer to him.
“Blake,” she whispered. “I shall expire if you go on so.”
“I speak only the truth, love,” he said with a wink. He turned to face Mrs. Smythe once more. “I daresay the light blue dress in the window—the one with the little leaves, I think—would be a fine start.”
“Oh, that’s the very one of which I spoke to the miss!” Mrs. Smythe said, catching quickly onto his plan.
At his urging, Taylor followed an enthusiastic Mrs. Smythe toward the back of the store to have her exquisite measurements taken. Blake thought then of her slight body, curved so well to fit his, clad in only her chemise. He drew in a breath and shook his head.
The other shoppers offered him their congratulations, which he accepted in the simple, open manner they were given. The ladies’ eyes still held that speculation, but for once Blake didn’t feel the heat of their gazes upon him. No, they seemed almost respectful in their manner of address. An uncomfortable sensation settled in the pit of his stomach.
He hadn’t cared for anyone’s respect except his own, and maybe Jason’s, these four long years. As for Taylor, he knew she was grateful to him for giving her a place to stay and a safe haven from Sussex and all the pain there. She appreciated that he vowed to find Robert. He still remembered the adoration that had shone in her eyes that first morning. Her appreciation and regard both increased his disquiet. He wouldn’t seek a more tender emotion from Taylor. They would suit and that would be enough.
Their stop at the dressmaker’s would have another outcome; all in Homerton would hear of the nuptials and the gentlemen in the village would hold Taylor in the esteem due her. She’d be a baroness. And though they’d keep far from Sussex, she’d live as comfortable a life as he could give her. Taking a seat on a ridiculously small, carved chair, he crossed his legs and prepared to wait.
Chapter 14
Taylor twirled before the cheval mirror at the back of Mrs. Smythe’s shop, unable to hold in her delight in the pretty little day dress. The color was lovely, the cut the height of fashion. It had been so long since she had cause to wear such clothes. Imagine such a reaction from so simple an ivy-sprigged scrap of blue muslin. Guilt niggled at the back of her mind, guilt that Blake was merely attempting to make amends for taking what she so happily gave him. He owed her nothing but she knew no argument would make him see that. She’d heard that many rich gentlemen kept their mistresses in dresses and jewelry and the like. But she was to be his wife. And that made all the difference to her.
She’d planned to leave when he’d stunned her with his proposal. His passion had been astounding as well, and awoke something inside of her she’d never before imagined. And now he was buying her things? Her fingers brushed over the fine fabric again. Lovely things to be sure, but things just the same. It was much to consider on this fine spring day and she didn’t know quite how to puzzle through it all.
“Lovely,” she heard a masculine voice observe.
She turned to find Blake smiling at her. She set her doubts from her mind and wagged a finger at him. “You’re not supposed to be in here, Blake.”
Mrs. Smythe chuckled and hurried toward the front of the shop. Blake stepped closer.
“That dress suits you, love,” he said. “Pray, have Mrs. Smythe show you some slippers and perhaps a jacket or two?”
“I can’t accept all of this,” she murmured.
He caught her chin with gentle fingers. “You’re to be my wife, Taylor.” He straightened and adjusted his own jacket. “You deserve to be clothed as well as your husband.”
She smiled at that. Blake grinned and left her to collect herself.
Mrs. Smythe showed Taylor a darling spencer in a dark blue velvet, and she couldn’t resist the little jacket. Gray kid gloves finished the outfit, except for a bonnet. Her old one would have suited her just fine, but Blake assured her that they would go directly to the milliner’s.
They did purchase a new bonnet, along with several others despite Taylor’s protestations. The
ir outing proved advantageous in Blake’s very vocal opinion. Taylor had to admit, at least to herself, that her new purchases did much to lift her spirits. Dressed as the lady she’d always been, and feeling as though she was once more that Miss Shelby of Sussex, she fancied that Blake would come to care for her just a little bit. His solicitude extended as they returned to the public house, aping an eager suitor as he deftly managed the boxes and parcels containing the purchases.
“Mrs. Smythe assured me that your other gowns should arrive at The Hideaway within a few days’ time, love.” He set the packages down in the front room. “I imagine she’s happily stitching and will see to one or two new garments before noon on the morrow.”
“She’s a nice woman,” Taylor said as she removed her new bonnet. “And a talented dressmaker.”
“Taylor, you’ve always seen the good in people. Since you were a child. You have a kind heart.”
She flushed a little at his praise. “It is easy to see goodness in Mrs. Smythe.” Anger bit at her as she thought of her horrid cousin. “But not when it comes to scoundrels like Trevor. When we find Robert, he will kick him out and reclaim his place.” She gave a nod. “All will be well again, Blake. You shall see.”
Obvious determination furrowed Blake’s brow. “I’d like to go there and kick him in a few choice places. Believe me.”
Trembling a bit, she took a step toward the dining room and he stopped her in the entryway, holding her shaking hands in his.
“You do look lovely, Taylor,” he said, his voice low.
Her cheeks flamed hotter still and she toyed with the dark blue ribbons of her bonnet. “It’s the dress,” she murmured.
“The dress is pretty.” He drew her closer and she reveled in the crush of his hard chest to her body. “Although I daresay I favor you in nothing at all.”
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 13
