Sarah Mallory - The Highborn Housekeeper

But he could not proceed with his plans while he had the telltale bruise on his face, or until he was well enough to defend himself. It would mean lying low for at least another week, maybe more, but that could not be helped. His thoughts strayed once more to Nancy. John had told him there were no signs of anyone prowling about Dell House, so perhaps he should not be in such a hurry to be rid of her. If he had to live quietly for a while, why should he not enjoy the company of an attractive widow? She appeared intent upon looking after him, too, so he would only be allowing her to do what she wanted.

He closed his eyes, a sudden smile tugging at his lips. Who said one could not have one’s cake and eat it?

* * *

When John Thoresby came up with Gabriel’s morning coffee, he announced in a voice of doom that it had been snowing all night.

‘Drifting, too. That man of Mrs Hopwood’s says the road is already blocked. No one will be going very far today, save on foot, across the fields.’

‘Capital,’ Gabriel replied, sanguine. ‘Let us hope it is the same on the Great North Road.’

John helped him to sit up and handed him his cup.

‘You’ve changed your tune. I thought you wanted our visitors gone?’

‘I do, eventually, but the snow will prevent my assailants from becoming anxious that my remains have not yet been discovered. Which reminds me, John, we need a notice in the Markham Courier to that effect. And possibly in the Intelligencer , too. That is widely read in Darlton, I believe. You say it is possible to get out across the fields? Good. I want you to go to East Markham and send a message, express, to...er...our friends in London. They will arrange the whole.’

‘Very well, sir. And what do you plan to do next?’

Gabriel eased himself back against the pillows and sipped his coffee. ‘I really have no idea,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But this weather will give us a little extra time to make a new plan. Do not worry, John. I will think of something!’

* * *

Gabriel had taken his breakfast in his room and then allowed his manservant to help him dress. His muscles were still stiff and sore, but he felt much more himself. Well enough, in fact, to leave his room. Knowing John would want him to rest for at least another day, he had waited until he had set off on his errand to East Markham before sallying forth and it was thus a little before noon that he made his way downstairs.

He found Nancy in the kitchen. She was absorbed in stirring the contents of a copper pan on the stove and did not notice him come in, which gave him time to study her. She wore a linen pinafore wrapped around her over her gown, a cheerful yellow muslin with a frilled hem that was more suited to a London salon than a country kitchen, but its bright colour reminded Gabriel of spring flowers. It suited her, too, the yellow contrasting well with the deep rich brown of her hair. She had swept it up hurriedly out of the way and small dark curls framed her face. Several glossy tendrils had escaped at the back, drawing his attention to the elegant neck rising from the low-cut bodice.

For a moment he considered stealing silently up to her, slipping his arms about the dainty waist and dropping a kiss upon the soft skin of her shoulder, but common sense prevailed. She was stirring a boiling pot and he was not at all sure that she wouldn’t throw the contents over him if he took such a liberty. He decided it would be safer to cough to attract her attention.

‘Oh. Good morning, Mr Shaw.’

She turned from her task, not a whit embarrassed to be discovered at her work. Her eyes appraised him and he was not sure if she approved of what she saw. He felt a flicker of apprehension and laughed at himself. By heaven, he could not be such a coxcomb that he needed a woman’s approval!

‘You look better,’ she said at last. ‘I trust you are feeling better?’

‘Very much so, madam, thanks in part to an excellent meal last night.’ He walked further into the room. The air was warm and deliciously scented with spices and vanilla. ‘John has gone out and I came in search of coffee. To make it,’ he added quickly. ‘I do not expect you or Mrs Yelland to wait upon me.’

He was rewarded by a wide smile.

‘How wise of you. As you see, I am busy and Hester is in an outhouse, plucking one of the older hens for the pot. There is some hot water in the kettle, it will not take long to boil, and you will find coffee and the pot over there on the shelves.’

She moved aside to allow him to reach the kettle, but concentrated on her saucepan while he busied himself making coffee. They did not speak, but Gabriel thought it felt pleasantly companionable.

‘May I offer you a coffee, too, Mrs Hopwood?’

‘Why, thank you, yes. I am just finishing the custard pudding for tonight’s dinner; it should thicken in a few moments, then I can put it on the marble slab in the larder to cool.’ She paused, lifted the spoon to check the consistency, then continued with her stirring. ‘The morning room fire had not been lit when I went in there earlier, so I suggest that we drink it here. This is by far the warmest room in the house at present.’ She looked up suddenly, frowning. ‘Apart from your bedchamber. I gave instructions that the fire should be kept in all night.’

‘And it has been,’ he assured her, ‘but now I am recovered, I dare not invite you to join me there to drink coffee.’

‘Or for anything else.’

‘No, of course. Not on such a short acquaintance.’

He knew he was being provocative and he wondered if she would take offence. Instead she laughed at him. It was a happy sound, loud and full-throated. Infectious , he thought, smiling inwardly. Joyous .

‘Indeed not.’ She gave her custard a final stir and lifted it from the stove. ‘Pray, take the coffee to the table, sir, and we can enjoy it here. I believe there are some biscuits somewhere that Hester baked yesterday.’

She took the saucepan to the larder and returned a few moments later carrying a small jar. When she opened it, the smell of lemons wafted into the air.

‘I commend your previous housekeeper, Mr Shaw. She left the larder very well stocked. Even preserved fruits. I find it very unusual,’ she continued, as he took a biscuit, ‘to have a house with no servants. Did you turn them all off?’

‘Not at all. The family that lived here did not wish to renew their lease and moved out at Michaelmas. I knew I might need a retreat and had the house furnished with all the necessities. Including a well-stocked larder. That was vital, with winter approaching.’

‘It is your house, then?’

‘Most assuredly it is my house. I purchased it only this summer.’

‘And you prefer to live here with no staff.’

‘I do.’

‘But you are a gentleman. You must be accustomed to having servants. A cook, housekeeper.’

Her dark eyes were fixed upon his face, intense, questioning. He gave a little shrug and said lightly, ‘The needs of a bachelor are far simpler than those of a married man, madam.’ She gave a tiny hiss of exasperation and he laughed. ‘The truth is that Thoresby and I spent some time in the army. We are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves, Mrs Hopwood.’ She looked so frankly disbelieving that he laughed. ‘Very well, on this occasion your help was very much appreciated.’

‘Grudgingly appreciated would be more accurate.’

‘Was I unpardonably rude to you?’

‘Outrageously so.’

‘I shall blame it upon the blow on the head that I received.’

‘Fustian! You do not like having your will crossed.’ She rested her arms on the table and leaned towards him, her plump, rounded breasts rising from her low décolletage. Desire stirred and he tried to ignore it.