Kitabı oku: «The Highborn Housekeeper», sayfa 4

Chapter Five

‘Wind got up last night, Miss Nancy. William Coachman says nothing will be moving by road for a while yet.’

From the cosy comfort of her bed, Nancy heard Hester’s news with a sinking heart. She had spent a restless night, dreaming of Gabriel, holding him, kissing him. Waking with her body burning and aching for his touch. She had crawled out of bed to unlock her door, and by the time Hester came in with her morning tea and hot water, she had decided that the less time she spent in Gabriel’s company the better for her peace of mind. Before climbing into bed, she had peeped out of the window. The snow had stopped and she had thought it felt a little warmer, giving rise to the hope that a thaw might set in. The news that she must remain longer at Dell House was a blow. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Outside the first glimmer of dawn was painting the sky a dull rose.

‘Can we not push through any drifts and at least make our way back to Tuxford?’ Suddenly almost anywhere seemed better than remaining in the same house as Gabriel Shaw.

‘Aye, we might do that on the lane, but William has just come in after walking Darlton way and said the roads in every direction are blocked.’ Hester picked up the poker and began to rake over the ashes. ‘Looks like we shall be obliged to remain here for a few more days yet, ma’am.’

‘Well, what cannot be cured must be endured.’ Nancy threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. The floor struck chill even through the thick rug under her feet. ‘Don’t bother with the fire, Hester, I will wash quickly and join you in the kitchen as soon as I am dressed.’

‘Work,’ she said to herself as she splashed the warm water on her face. ‘There is plenty of work to be done in the kitchen and that will keep me out of Gabriel’s way.’

* * *

But she had reckoned without the attraction of a warm room and the delicious smell of baking that drew everyone into the kitchen at noon. William had already come in from the stables and was enjoying a plate of bread, cheese and onion which he declared would keep him going until dinner time, while John Thoresby had persuaded Hester to cut him a slice of the game pie left over from yesterday. The room was redolent with the scent of lemon and spices by the time Gabriel appeared, looking so impossibly handsome that Nancy’s heart gave a little skip. He came in wearing breeches and top boots with the full sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose muscled forearms.

Nancy was standing over the mixing bowl, the ingredients for a cake spread out on the table before her. Frowning, she bent her head and gave her attention to beating together the flour, eggs and sugar. It was easy to ignore the banter going on between Hester and John Thoresby, and William was happily ensconced in a chair by the range, lost in his own thoughts. Gabriel, however, after helping himself to a slice of pie, eased himself on to the bench across the table from Nancy, determined to talk.

‘You slept well, I hope, madam?’

‘Perfectly, sir.’ A lie, but what was one supposed to say? ‘You are well enough to work out of doors, I see.’

He grimaced. ‘A few logs and I was done. I must content myself with chopping kindling. Which reminds me, John tells me the coal scuttle in your room did not require filling this morning. I hope you are not skimping on your own comforts. I assure you we have plenty of fuel.’

‘I prefer a cool bedchamber.’

‘That may be, but in this extreme weather a room can become icy in no time. I would not have you catch a chill when you retire tonight.’

The words were perfectly innocent, but his deep voice conjured images at once shocking and enticing. Nancy pictured herself lying with Gabriel before the roaring fire, their naked bodies pressed together as they shared long, lingering kisses. She bent her head and beat the cake mixture even harder, trying to ignore the thrumming of hot blood through her veins.

‘I am not such a poor creature,’ she muttered.

‘I have never believed you were. I think you are quite remarkable.’

His voice was low and warm, like a caress. Flattery. It was nothing but flattery and she must not take him seriously.

She managed a laugh and said lightly, ‘Your words have more butter in them than this cake! If you are wheedling for more food, I suggest you turn your charm upon Hester. I am not one to succumb to such blandishments.’

‘Thank you, no, this pie is sufficient for me.’ He climbed to his feet. ‘John, I pray you will join me in the study when you are finished.’ He reached out and stole a few of the currants she was about to beat into her cake. ‘Until dinner, Mrs Hopwood.’

Nancy’s pulse was jumping erratically. She told herself she was glad he had left the kitchen but there was no denying she enjoyed his teasing. She was torn between exhilaration and panic at what might occur if she spent too long in his company. She was tempted to suggest once more they should all eat together in the kitchen, but abandoned the idea. The others would not agree and it would signal to Gabriel that she was not immune to his charms. Better to bluff it out, she thought.

She looked up, giving him a bright smile. ‘Until dinner, then.’

* * *

Nancy spent the rest of the afternoon in feverish activity. She cooked, cleaned and tidied, ignoring Hester’s protests that there was no need for her to mop the floor or sweep the stairs. The inclement weather made it impossible to go out and Nancy needed an occupation to try to keep her thoughts away from Gabriel. She was dismayed at how much she wanted to throw caution to the winds and give in to the mutual attraction that sizzled between them whenever they were together. And she was not helped by the insidious voice of temptation that whispered in her ear.

After all, what have you got to lose? You are too old to worry about your virtue. Enjoy a brief liaison with an attractive man. Before it is too late.

Madness, she told herself. To allow Gabriel into her bed and enjoy his lovemaking would only make the inevitable parting even harder to bear. She had good friends in Compton Parva and the living she earned at Prospect House provided her with a measure of independence that she would be foolish to jeopardise. So she threw herself into her work, only stopping when Hester reminded her that she must change for dinner.

‘You will need to bathe, first, Miss Nancy,’ declared the older lady. ‘You cannot sit down at the table with Master Gabriel in all your dirt. And there’s no need to fret,’ she continued, with the glimmer of a smile, ‘I have been heating up the copper all afternoon for you.’

Hot water was hurriedly carried upstairs, but once she had bathed, Nancy was forbidden to help empty the hip bath, Hester explaining that she and John Thoresby would clear the room while she was having dinner.

‘You’ve worked hard enough today, Miss Nancy. Now, you rest and dry your hair in front of the fire while I get on with dinner. Then you can enjoy your meal.’

Enjoy! Nancy felt again a guilty flush of pleasure. Her stomach swooped at the thought of dining alone with Gabriel. They had been getting on so well, so companionably. They laughed together and teased one another as if they had known each other all their lives. As if they were lifelong friends. And yet they were strangers. The truth sobered her. Gabriel had told her nothing of himself and had no intention of doing so. Every time she attempted to discover his history, he turned the conversation. It was neatly done, he gave no offence and in all other respects proved himself an entertaining companion who appeared to enjoy her company.

As she sat before her fire, letting the thick curtain of hair fall in front of the flames to dry, she sank into a pleasant reverie of the moments they had spent together.

If one put aside Gabriel’s propensity to flirt, there had been many pleasurable and quite innocent moments these past few days, such as Gabriel’s making coffee for her to share, helping her in the kitchen by stirring a pot so that she might get on with something else, hunting for eggs with her in the henhouse and carrying the precious finds back to the kitchen. Menial tasks but necessary, and all the more enjoyable for doing them together.

The striking of her bracket clock, sitting on the mantelshelf, reminded Nancy of the time and she jumped up with a little cry of alarm. There was less than half an hour until dinner! She piled her still-damp hair on top of her head and set about finding something suitable to wear. Time was short, but she did not want to put on the blue gown again and hastily rummaged through the trunks of clothes. Thankfully most of her gowns were cleverly designed so that she might dress herself, for she dared not drag Hester away from the kitchen to help her.

Brightly coloured evenings gowns with their ornate frills and flounces were held up, but hastily discarded, one after the other. In the end she decided on a half-dress of Pomona-green sarsenet. It had a double flounce around the hem, but it was relatively plain, being intended to be worn about the house when there were no visitors. The demure neckline needed no lace or muslin to cover her breasts and, like the blue silk, it had the advantage of long sleeves, which would help to keep out the winter chill.

There was no time to pack everything away. Nancy scrambled into her gown, picked up her shawl and hurried downstairs, thankful that Hester had refused all her offers to help her serve up the meal. She went directly to the morning room, where Gabriel was waiting. He was drawing the curtains when she came in and when they were securely closed he crossed the room towards her, scooping up two glasses of wine from a side table as he passed and handing one to Nancy.

She said, by way of greeting, ‘I hope you are feeling even better today?’

‘Much better, thank you. Allow me to escort you to the table.’

She was all too aware of his hand on her back, the merest touch, but her skin tingled beneath the layers of fabric. He held her chair for her and she half expected his fingers to brush the back of her neck. When they did not and he took his own seat, her disappointment was almost physical.

Stop it, Nancy. Just enjoy the evening. Ask nothing, explain nothing.

Was that possible? Their discourse on the previous occasions had been varied and wide ranging, but the subjects had been innocuous. Interesting, enjoyable, but giving away very little of themselves. Surely there could be nothing left to talk about. However, within minutes of their being alone they were once more engaged in lively conversation. Nancy began to relax as they discussed books and music and the theatre. Gabriel asked her no probing questions and she curbed her own curiosity, enjoying his company far too much to risk his withdrawing behind a wall of politeness.

John and Hester came in to carry away the last of the dishes and Nancy only made a half-hearted protest when they insisted she should not return with them to the kitchen to help clear up. Instead she watched them working, folding her hands together in her lap. They felt softer than they had for years. A lady’s hands. During her sojourn in town she had not been obliged to do anything more taxing than write letters and, since they had arrived at Dell House, Hester had tried to ensure they remained that way by taking on most of the heavy work.

‘You are smiling,’ Gabriel observed, as Hester and John left the room. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘That I am being thoroughly spoiled.’

‘No, why should that be when you have been working all day? I saw you, you know, polishing the handrail on the stairs with all your might.’

She blushed and shook her head. ‘Everyone has been busy today, even you.’

‘Not as much as I would like.’ He refilled their glasses.

‘But you have not yet recovered your full strength.’

‘And nor shall I, if I am not allowed to do anything more strenuous than chop kindling and light a few fires.’

She laughed. ‘You must learn patience, sir. You will recover all the quicker if you do not overstrain yourself. You need to rest. And having said that, the clock struck eleven some time since. It is late.’

He sat back, grinning.

‘Oh, no. I allowed you to persuade me of that yesterday. Today I am much better. I intend to take my wine and sit by the fire. Will you join me?’

Common sense and self-preservation told Nancy she should bid him goodnight and go to bed, but for the life of her she could not resist the temptation to stay. They sat, one on each side of the fireplace, and Gabriel filled their wine glasses before placing the bottle on the hearth. She sipped her wine, then cradled the glass between her hands and watched him. He was sitting back in his chair, his long legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankle.

A frisson of excitement ran through her. She had nursed him, washed him and tended his bruises. She knew that beneath the thin layers of fine cloth he had the body of an athlete, the muscles finely sculpted over his broad shoulders and deep chest, his long legs shapely and powerful. He was staring into the fire, the shadows enhancing the clean lines of his cheeks and jaw. It was a strong face, she thought. Intelligent, determined, perhaps even a little ruthless. Certainly dangerous.

He looked up suddenly and caught her gaze. She said, ‘Tell me who you are. Why you are here.’

‘Madam, it is a subject too dull for conversation.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘It is to me. I want only to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.’

She blushed. ‘I will not be diverted by your compliments.’

‘I am merely telling you the truth.’ He paused. ‘I should very much like to kiss you.’

The words were soft, a caress in themselves, and her throat dried.

‘I do not think that would be wise.’ But her heart told her it was what she would like, too.

‘No, not wise at all.’

A candle was guttering on a side table. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked across to pinch it out. She noted that he was moving easier, little sign of the stiffness of yesterday. He did not need a nurse. She had no excuse to stay here any longer, she could return to Prospect House as soon as the weather allowed. She wondered why the thought did not please her more.

‘John tells me there are signs of a thaw,’ he said, keeping his back to her.

‘Yes.’

‘You will be able to continue your journey.’

‘Yes.’

And I shall never see you again.

She put down her glass. She should have drunk less wine. It was going to her head, weakening her resolve just when she most needed to be sensible. ‘I should retire.’

He turned. ‘Then I will escort you.’

The words were polite enough, but the tension in the room was tangible, thick and dangerous as flour dust. Nancy was well aware that a single spark would ignite it. Silently she threw her shawl about her shoulders and accompanied Gabriel from the room. The hall and stairs were dimly illuminated by the occasional candle in its wall sconce, but their eyes soon grew accustomed to the gloom. Nancy’s bedchamber was the first room off the landing and as they ascended the stairs the bead of light beneath the door reminded her that she had rushed out in a hurry and had forgotten to turn down the lamps.

She had resolved what she must do. At the door she would pause to say goodnight and at the same time she would reach for the handle so she could slip quickly away, but when they reached her bedchamber, her thoughts and her wayward body froze. Gabriel stopped and turned towards her, his frame blocking what little light there was. She was enveloped in his shadow. Wrapped in the powerful, charismatic presence of the man. Perhaps it was his height—there were very few people taller than Nancy—and having to look up into Gabriel’s shadowed face made her heart beat a little faster. As if controlled by some will other than her own, Nancy put her hands on his shoulders and stretched up to kiss his mouth. For a moment he did not move, then the whole world exploded.

His arms came around her and he was kissing her, a fierce, savage kiss that made her senses reel. He pushed her against the wall, his powerful chest crushing her breasts. She could feel the iron strength of his thighs against her legs. She slid her arms about his neck, clinging to him while she responded to his mouth’s demands, her lips parting to allow his tongue to explore her mouth. He was hard and aroused against her, his hands roving over her body, cupping her breasts. She felt the heat of his palms through the thin silk of her gown and her body stiffened. She sighed against his mouth. Her very bones were melting.

He raised his head and stared down at her, naked desire in his eyes.

‘May I come in?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes.’

In one swift movement he swept her up into his arms. For an instant he fumbled with the door handle and then they were through, into the golden lamplight. Gabriel strode into the room and set her on her feet. She clung to him to get her balance. After the darkness of the passages the lamps were dazzling, illuminating the jewel-like colours of the discarded gowns that were spread in rich and vivid confusion across the bed and draped over the furniture. Nancy gave a little tut of impatience.

‘I left in a hurry, I will move them—’

‘No. Wait.’ He kept his arms about her, but he was looking around the room, frowning. ‘What is all this?’

He released her and went to the bed, lifting and fingering the rich, colourful silks. Still dazed and shaken by his kisses, Nancy could only stand and watch as he walked across to the open trunk and picked up a scarlet ballgown. He tossed it aside and reached into the trunk, pulling out her jewel box. When he opened the lid, the gems winked and glittered in the lamplight.

He lifted out a diamond necklace and held it up to the light.

‘This is real.’ He dipped his hand in and lifted several more pieces. ‘As are these.’ He let the jewels slip back through his fingers. ‘There is a king’s ransom here.’

The hot, urgent passion of that kiss had gone. There was no burning desire in Gabriel’s eyes now when he looked at her, only cold suspicion. Nancy felt her own exhilaration drain away, leaving her nervous and on edge. She ran her tongue across her dry lips.

‘I know how this must look—’

‘What is this?’ He stared at her. ‘What are you?’

‘I—I wore these in London—’

‘You are a rich man’s whore.’

She winced. ‘No.’

‘You stole them, then.’

‘No! Nothing like that.’ She put up her chin, trying not to be cowed by the accusation in his eyes. ‘I was hired to wear them. By Lord Quinn.’

His brows went up. ‘Well, he is rich enough, I’ll grant you that. You must be an excellent lover, if Rufus Quinn rewarded you with all this.’

‘How dare you!’ Anger scorched her cheeks. She glared at him. ‘It was not like that at all.’

‘No?’ His lip curled. ‘Then you had best explain it to me.’

He walked to a chair, picked up the gowns thrown over it and dumped them on the floor before sitting down. For a moment she was tempted to say it was none of his business, but her temper was cooling. She owed him an explanation. She had told him she was a poor widow, earning her living as a cook, and now he had discovered that she was in possession of gowns and jewels worth hundreds if not thousands of pounds.

‘It is a delicate matter,’ she said. ‘Can I rely upon your discretion?’

‘Oh, no, madam, I will make you no promises until I have heard your story.’

Despite his suave tone, his eyes glittered dangerously. He was furious and with good reason. No man liked to think he had been duped. With a sigh she rubbed one hand across her eyes.

‘Quinn’s wife is related to a friend of mine, Mrs Charles Russington, who set up Prospect House, where I live and work as a cook. Serena—Lady Quinn—was being threatened with ruin by Sir Timothy Forsbrook and she needed...extricating. It was impossible for Quinn to call him out without causing the very scandal they were trying to avoid. When I heard about it, I suggested I could distract him. Lure him away.’

How sordid that sounded now, yet at the time, when Molly had told her of the dilemma, it had seemed straightforward. She had been eager to take on the role. Perhaps even then she had been finding her life a little dull, only she would not admit it. She glanced at Gabriel. His arms were folded across his chest, his face was stony, impassive, like some terrible god sitting in judgement.

‘Go on.’

The tone was not encouraging. Nancy pulled her shawl about her and began to pace slowly about the room.

‘Do you know Sir Timothy?’ She did not wait for an answer. ‘He is a fortune hunter, but he is also a spiteful man. When his attempt to abduct Serena was foiled he was determined to ruin her, out of revenge. I masqueraded as a wealthy tradesman’s widow, to draw him off. He took the bait and courted me, spending a great deal of money to convince me he was a rich man. He ran up huge debts, believing my fortune would soon be his, but I disappeared and he was left, facing ruin.’ She raised her head, returning his gaze steadily. ‘Perhaps it was wrong to deceive Sir Timothy, but he had no qualms about marrying me for my money. He pretended he had fallen head over heels in love with me, but there was no true affection in him.’ Her lip curled. ‘I was the means to an end. I learned afterwards that he had planned to put me away in some isolated house once he had control of my supposed fortune. Quinn settled with him, gave him enough money to pay his debts on condition that he left the country.

‘My fee for this charade was that I would keep all the gowns and the jewels. Not for myself. They will all be sold and the proceeds will go to the charity that runs Prospect House.’ She waved her hand towards the trunks. ‘The gowns and the jewels reflect the character I played: dashy, loud, and totally without breeding, but Forsbrook was not deterred. He thought my fortune sufficient compensation for taking such a wife.’ She stopped and turned to him. ‘So, there you have it. It is a sordid little tale, but it was done to protect Lady Quinn’s good name.’

‘And what of your own reputation?’

She shrugged. ‘I did not have one to lose. I forfeited my good name the day I ran away from home.’ She added, with a touch of defiance, ‘I have supported myself by my cooking ever since and I am proud that I have been able to do so. I do not consider myself a fallen woman.’

In the silence that followed her confession she dragged together what shreds of pride she could muster and went about the room, packing up the gowns and carefully putting them back in the trunks.

Gabriel said slowly, ‘I have spent little time in town these past few months so I have no idea if your story is true, but I am acquainted with Sir Timothy Forsbrook. I know him for a grasping, treacherous scoundrel.’

She shuddered. ‘He is a horrid little man. I cannot regret tricking him.’

‘And do you regret deceiving me?’

She turned to look at him. ‘I did not deliberately deceive you, save to call myself Mrs Hopwood, the name I used in town. Everything else I have told you about myself is true.’

‘And your real name?’

She shook her head. ‘I shall be leaving here very soon, there is little point in you knowing that.’

‘I see.’ He rose. ‘Thank you for explaining the matter to me.’

He left her, closing the door quietly behind him. Nancy continued to pack her clothes in the trunk, telling herself it was just as well he had gone. What good would it have been to succumb to temptation and spend a night of passion with him? It could never be anything more.

But when at last she climbed between the sheets and blew out her candle, she thought her bed had never felt so cold and lonely.