A Lady's Deception Page 5

  Chapter Four

  Hugh threw the soap aside and rubbed himself briskly with the towel. Christ, the water was freezing, even though it was a sunny, mild day. He supposed it wouldn’t warm up until June, at least, so he was doomed to bathe in cold water until then.

  He chuckled to himself, wondering who had been watching him. He’d caught a flash of blue before she’d gotten away. Was it Eleanor? It might have been one of her assistants, but she was the one more likely to be on the path leading to the Broxton place. Tempting her with his body wasn’t beneath him. In fact, Hugh wished he’d known she was there. He could have treated her to so much more. He pulled on his shirt and britches and made his way back to the tenant’s cottage. Once there, he donned a cravat, waistcoat, coat, and top boots, and set off for Eleanor’s cottage, determined to find out if she’d been the one spying on him.

  When he reached her door, he heard voices. And then laughter. Dare he eavesdrop? They were probably talking about him. He waited, and they finally resumed their conversation.

  “Your bubbies are bigger than hers, miss,” a voice—not Eleanor’s—said. Giggling ensued.

  “Minnie, don’t speak so.” That was definitely Eleanor.

  “What I mean is, like, whether it fits you isn’t a good estimate of how it will fit her.”

  “You’re right. Help me out of the blasted thing.” Eleanor again.

  They weren’t talking about him at all. That took him down a peg. Or two. He knocked and heard a good deal of scampering around while he waited.

  Eleanor opened the door, wearing a diaphanous rose gown that barely contained her breasts. Her assistant was correct—it didn’t fit her at all. Thank the Almighty. Hugh enjoyed the view until one of the other girls tossed Eleanor a shawl and she covered herself up. “Mr. Grey. I mean, Sir Hugh. I wasn’t expecting you.” Her cheeks were as rosy as the gown.

  He held back a grin. “I gathered that.”

  She stepped out and closed the door.

  Damnation! He’d hoped to be invited in. How would he see if she’d been wearing a blue dress before she’d changed into this gauzy thing?

  “May I help you with something?”

  He should have come up with an excuse for calling, but he’d been too single-minded. And now he couldn’t think of a plausible reason. Or any reason. “I, er, that is…I was merely passing by.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she eyed him skeptically. She was having none of it; that was obvious.

  “May I see your workroom, Eleanor?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why do you want to see where we work?”

  Hugh leaned forward, placing his forearms on the gate, and smiled his most winning smile. “You mentioned you had a small work area. I thought perhaps I could suggest a way to create more space.”

  “Oh, really? You know about such things, do you?”

  The ends of her shawl had separated after she’d crossed her arms, affording him a view of her breasts. He remembered how they’d felt in his hands, like two soft, inviting pillows. Oh hell, it would have been wiser if he’d remained behind the gate.

  “Very well, come through then.” She led the way. After cleaning his boots on the footscraper, he followed.

  Her two assistants were seated at a worktable pushed against the windows, both with needles in hand. They leaped up when they saw him and bobbed curtsies. Hugh bowed and said, “Good morning, Jane. And…?”

  “This is Minnie,” Eleanor said. “Sir Hugh wants to see if he can help us devise a way to increase the size of our work area.”

  Now that he was inside, and Eleanor was out of his line of sight, he could concentrate. What he saw troubled him. He estimated the entire space to be no more than five paces by four. The windows were north facing, which allowed little light, especially in the afternoon. On the opposite wall was the hearth, with the requisite coal bucket, wood carrier, and tools close at hand. A small window was to his right, near the door. On his left was one storage shelf, with stacks of boxes piled beneath it. There was a row of shelves on the back wall as well, along with a door to another room. Curious, Hugh moved toward the second room, but Eleanor blocked the way. One of the girls tittered.

  “That is a private space.”

  Hugh stopped. “My pardon.” He stepped back, but not before he’d glimpsed a bed with a blue dress thrown across it. He smiled.

  “Do you find this amusing, Sir Hugh?” Eleanor asked.

  “Of course not. I find it appalling. Your lighting is inadequate, you lack sufficient storage space, and your work area is cramped and smells of smoke.”

  “Well,” Eleanor said, sounding flustered. “We do the best we can. We keep the door open in warm weather. That provides more light. And airs out the place.”

  He’d offended her, but she must know the truth of what he’d said. He softened his voice. “You would see a great improvement with a few small changes.”

  “Nothing I could afford!” He’d really gotten her back up now.

  “Not true. I could—”

  “So kind of you to stop by, Sir Hugh.” She was ushering him to the door, dismissing him. “You’ve given me much to consider. I’m sure your time is too valuable to waste on our simple endeavors, but I do thank you for your concern.”

  She hurried outside, as though to make certain he was truly leaving. He took his time, bowing to the girls, bidding them a friendly good-bye. “My brother likes working up at Longmere, Sir Hugh,” Jane said.

  “Ah. Good to hear. I’m glad to have him. Simon is a hard worker.” Slowly, he made his way outside. Eleanor stood there tapping her foot.

  Hugh walked right up to her, crowding her. She stepped back, and he leaned forward, raising his brows. “Why won’t you listen to reason?”

  She had a petulant look on her face, and he didn’t like it. Nor did he understand what was causing it. “Because I don’t need your help. We’re getting along fine on our own.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “And how would you know? We’re completing our orders on time, we’ve plenty of new clients, and they pay promptly. Those things add up to a good business.”

  He thought she might stamp her foot.

  “I’ve been in your position, Eleanor, that’s how I know. I’ve worked under less than ideal conditions, with poor light, not enough supplies, no elbow room.” He was jabbing a finger at her, to emphasize each point. “You and your assistants have to work twice as hard as you might, were your working conditions improved even slightly.”

  He gazed at her, her beautiful mouth beguiling him. He’d never noticed how perfectly shaped it was. Bowed, but not too small. He could stare at it forever. He pulled his gaze up to her eyes, which seemed to hold a world of sadness, and then he felt like a brute. “Look, I wanted only to help. My apologies if I overstepped. I’ll be on my way.” He sketched a quick bow and walked through the gate.

  Just as he gained the path, he heard her say, “And we have adequate supplies, thank you very much.”

  Hugh knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from striding back. She was still standing right where he’d left her. “Glad to hear it. I almost forgot to mention, that was a very becoming blue dress you were wearing earlier today. I hope you enjoyed what I was wearing. Good day, Eleanor.”

  …

  Damnation! Hugh had worked out that she was the one watching him at the pond. How dare he bring it up? She didn’t like his new authoritative manner, although she could not deny it made him even more attractive. Blast!

  He never used to be like this. He was…he had not been so imposing, before. Eleanor didn’t need another man in her life telling her what to do. She was stuffed to the gills with bossy men, not to mention her mother. And besides, if she gave Hugh an inch, he’d take a country mile. She could not allow that, which was why she could not tell him about Lili.

  Her parents and the Abbots already organized her time with her daughter,
controlling what she could and couldn’t do, placing all sorts of restrictions on her. Hugh had been off in the wilds of North America when she fell pregnant—or at least when she’d realized she had—and even though he’d asked her to let him know if there were “consequences,” how could he possibly have helped? He may as well have been a million miles away.

  She didn’t know what he would make of being a father. Or of her lying to him, by omission. Would he demand rights? Would he take Lili away from her? If she’d had more than a brief acquaintance with him before she’d recklessly slept with the man, perhaps she’d be a better judge of what he might do under these circumstances. But as things stood, she simply had no way of gauging his reaction or what actions he might take once he learned the truth. No, she could not risk telling him.

  Her reasons were largely selfish, resulting from her fear that Lili could somehow be snatched from her. What her mother had said this morning further confused the issue. If Hugh were forced to acknowledge he had a child, a scandal might ensue. Just at the time he was rebuilding his home and his standing in the community. Obviously, both meant a great deal to him. She didn’t wish to ruin his prospects.

  If only the matter weren’t so complicated.

  And now she must get back inside and change out of this gown before she burst the seams. When she entered the cottage, the two girls, who’d had their heads together whispering, looked down and resumed their work.

  “Help me out of this, Jane, if you please.”

  Jane first retrieved Eleanor’s dress from the back room, and then helped her slip out of the gown intended for one of their London clients. After Eleanor was dressed, she turned to her assistants and said, “Out with it. What were you whispering about just now? And don’t tell me a bouncer. I’m very adept at working out when someone’s lying.”

  Jane and Minnie cast each other guilty looks, and then Jane spoke up. “We were wondering why we couldn’t take Sir Hugh up on his offer to help us.”

  Eleanor rubbed at her forehead and gave them her back. How to explain it? She spun around and said, “Because when someone offers to help, there are always strings attached. I don’t want to be obligated to Sir Hugh in any way. Do you understand?”

  “Can’t say I do,” Minnie said, coming over to stand near Jane. “Sir Hugh’s a nice man. What would he want from us?” Jane was scowling, looking like she wanted to throttle her mistress.

  “What is it? Speak up,” Eleanor said.

  “You’re not thinking Sir Hugh would ask us—or you—to do something improper, are you? He’s a good man, miss. Simon says he feeds all his workers tea and meat pies every day, and what’s more, gives them a long break, doesn’t he? Aren’t many bosses do that.”

  Perfect. Just what she needed, to be the object of gossip regarding Hugh. She had to nip this in the bud. “Not at all,” she said firmly. “I believe him to be an honorable man, in every way. It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s just that I don’t want anybody telling me what to do. Now, can we end this and get back to work?”

  “Yes, miss, but if he could help us with lighting and extra space and such, why not let him?”

  The discussion had gone far enough. “I’ll give it some thought,” she finally said, even though she had no intention of enlisting Hugh’s help with anything.

  Bobby curled up at her feet, Eleanor spent the remainder of the day composing letters to London clients to arrange appointments with them. The last time she’d gone up to Town, she had stayed with Cass and Adam Grey and hoped to do so again. Since Adam was Sir William’s man in Commons, they no doubt felt obligated. But they’d made her feel welcome and comfortable, and she and Cass had developed a friendship of sorts. Eleanor was also fond of Christopher, their baby son.

  Eleanor shooed the girls out when the light dimmed. The fire had been banked, and she fanned it back to life to ignite a few spills. From these she lit candles, leaving one in the main room and returning to her desk with two more. She continued working, making lists of other places she’d need to visit while in Town. Layton’s drapery shop on Henrietta Street and Harding, Howell and Company in Pall Mall. If necessary, she would call in at Wilding & Kent, on New Bond Street. They were far more expensive, and rarely did Eleanor feel the extra money was worth it. Some of her clients were quite extravagant and didn’t mind the extra expense to achieve the right look, but others were so parsimonious, you’d think they were about to be sent to the Marshalsea.

  After giving it some thought, Eleanor made up her mind to hire a man of business to handle her bookkeeping. Adam could most likely recommend someone. She added that to her list of things to accomplish while in Town. She would need to make sure her accounts were up to date before her trip. Ugh. Although tempted to put it off, she would sleep better if she tackled it now.

  On her tiptoes, Eleanor reached for her ledger book. Why was that blasted shelf hung so high? Stretching her hand out a little farther, she made a grab for it. Ah, there, she had it. And then her hand slipped, and the heavy tome fell and hit her squarely on the bridge of her nose. Eyes watering, she sank back onto her chair and gave into a full-fledged bout of weeping. This day had been almost too much to bear.

  First, the hurtful conversation with her mother and then the unpleasant confrontation with Jacob Abbot. And Hugh’s unexpected visit, in which he had accurately summed up all that was wrong at the cottage. Her fatigue. She used to love designing and sewing clothes, but lately it had become drudgery. Eleanor felt like Atlas, attempting to hold up the skies on her shoulders, though she hadn’t his strength or endurance. After a moment, she blotted her tears and blew her nose. Feeling sorry for herself was an indulgence she could not afford. She must be strong in her resolve to work hard, save money, and eventually provide a home for herself and Lili.

  Eleanor’s stomach rumbled. Not surprising, since she hadn’t eaten a bite since breakfast. Her mother would probably say that was for the best. How she would soothe her hunger pangs, she didn’t know. She’d been planning to spend the night at the cottage, and she didn’t keep any food here. Thank goodness she had a tea caddy and a kettle. There was nothing for it but to venture outside and fill the kettle from the water tank behind the cottage. She nearly tripped over a basket that rested on her front step.

  “What on earth?” Eleanor set the kettle down, picked up the basket, and walked back inside, her curiosity getting the better of her. She placed her candle and the basket on the worktable and spread open the cloth covering. The tempting scent of meat pies wafted toward her. And there were also a jug of tea and a small bowl of fresh blackberries. Heavenly.

  Then she saw the note. It was resting against the side of the basket, and she’d nearly missed it because its cream color blended with the cloth. Turning it over, she held it next to the candle and read: My apologies for presuming to advise you on your work arrangement. I hope these victuals will assuage any offense I caused. Yrs, H.

  Damn the man. Why should he believe his words would have the power to hurt her? Another presumption on his part, thinking she cared what he said.

  Nevertheless, a smile tugged at her lips, and when she tucked into one of the pies, it wasn’t simply the rich flavor, or the fact they were still hot, that caused warmth to flood her belly. It was something else altogether, and well she knew it.

  Chapter Five

  Later the same week

  On Friday, Hugh rode into Haslemere to purchase the daily ration of food for himself and his crew. But he had another task to attend to first. He needed to talk to Edward Martin about the possibility of becoming the Longmere steward. He found the tavern on the outskirts of Town, the King’s Head, and ordered an ale. When the man working the taps placed it before him, Hugh said, “Are you Edward Martin?”

  “Aye, that’s me. Who’s asking?”

  “Hugh Grey.” He hadn’t gotten used to the “Sir” honorific and felt pretentious using it. “I’m looking for a steward up at Longmere, and my brother
, Adam, said you might be interested.”

  Martin, possessed of a high forehead and a crop of unruly chestnut hair, stood a little straighter. His eyes were an unusual pale blue and lit up at the mention of the job. “I might.”

  There was little custom at this time of day, and Hugh invited the man to join him at a table for a few minutes. When they were settled with tankards, Hugh gave him the particulars. “It won’t be an easy job. My father neglected his tenants for years. It’s likely most of the cottages need repairs, and the tenants will need help with drainage, enclosure, clearing the land, and the like.” Hugh downed a few swallows of ale and said, “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I’ve worked a variety of jobs, but my true calling is the land. I’m single-minded about it. For five years I was Mr. Compton’s steward, up at Hillsdale Farm. We made great strides with enclosure, especially. When he died unexpectedly, his son wanted his own man. I decided to help my parents here at the inn until another opportunity presented itself.”

  Hugh liked the man. He was eager, but not overzealous. He had an open, friendly countenance and a genial way about him. “Tenants can be demanding know-it-alls. How would you deal with that?”

  Martin thought a moment. “Tact, but with some bite to it,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “The job is yours if you want it,” Hugh said, rising and holding out his hand.

  Martin clasped it with a firm grip. “Yes, sir. When can I start?”

  “Call me Hugh. Can you be ready by Monday?”

  “Say the word, and I’d be ready tomorrow. But Monday’s fine. Gives me a chance to help my folks find another man to fill my place here.”

  Hugh nodded. “I’ll be at the site. We’re still hauling away rubble.”

  He turned to leave, and when he reached the door, Martin said, “Everybody calls me Ned.”

  “Ned it is, then. I think you and I will get along fine.”

  …

  The following Thursday

  Hugh glanced again at the invitation lying on the oak table in his cottage. It was from Cass and Adam, inviting him to a dinner party next week. He’d been debating whether to accept. If he attended, there would be no avoiding a meeting with Deborah. Surprisingly, when he mulled it over, Hugh’s primary feeling regarding his mother was indifference. He no longer hated her—it expended too damn much energy. He simply had no desire to reconcile with her.