The Highborn Housekeeper. Sarah Mallory

finding eggs and fetching the large ham that was in the larder.

      * * *

      Later, when he had taken a fresh tray to his master and then helped him to dress, he returned and issued an invitation to Nancy.

      ‘My master begs that you will join him for dinner tonight, ma’am. In his room. He deeply regrets that he is not yet well enough to manage the stairs.’ Having performed his duty, John Thoresby unbent a little and added, ‘To tell you the truth, he is weak as a cat and it’s as much as he can do to sit upright in his chair beside the fire. But he hopes you will not object to the informality of dining in his chamber.’

      Nancy was not fooled. However politely Mr Thoresby wrapped it up, it was clearly a summons. Not that she was averse to having dinner with Mr Gabriel Shaw. She had a great many questions she wanted to put to him.

      * * *

      Just before dinner, Nancy went upstairs to wash away the heat and grease of the kitchen, leaving Hester and Thoresby to put the final touches to the meal. There was no time to wash her hair, so she brushed it well and bundled it up on her head before turning her attention to what to wear. Her trunks held an array of colourful, expensive dresses, the jewel box was full of ostentatious pieces, all designed to attract attention, but she had no wish to display her charms tonight. Quite the opposite, she thought, remembering Mr Shaw’s smile and its effect upon her pulse.

      She chose the most sober of the evening gowns, a sheath of deep sapphire-blue silk with a high waist and long sleeves that she thought would be a necessity, because the continuing icy weather seemed to permeate the very fabric of the building. She arranged a muslin fichu in the neck of the gown, partly for warmth and partly for decorum. It would also remove the need for jewels. She pushed her feet into the matching kid slippers and took a moment to study herself in the looking glass. She gave a little nod of satisfaction, confident she would pass as a respectable widow, fallen on hard times, which was just how she wanted Gabriel Shaw to see her. Throwing a fine woollen shawl about her shoulders to keep her warm, she set off through the unheated passages.

      ‘Mrs Hopwood, good evening.’

      Gabriel Shaw greeted her politely as she entered his room. She had half expected him to receive her in a garish dressing gown, but he was fully dressed in biscuit-coloured pantaloons and a dark evening coat that fitted without a crease across his broad shoulders. Even in the candlelight she could see it was of impeccable cut. He wore it over a gold silk waistcoat and immaculate white linen, and above the intricately tied cravat his face was unmarked, save for the ugly bruise on one cheek. It had been darkening when she had cleaned his face on the night they had arrived. The night she had perched on the bed, holding his hand. The memory evoked a sudden fluttering in her chest, but she ignored it. She had nursed him as she would have done any injured man.

      She glanced at him again. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, but she thought he looked remarkably well. Even the cut on his head was healing and hidden now by the sleek dark hair that was brushed back from his wide brow. No fobs or seals adorned his clothes and his fingers were bare of rings, but she was sure he was no country gentleman. He was as fashionably dressed as any of the men she had seen during her recent sojourn in London. Even more reason to question him.

      He was sitting at the little dining table that had been set up before the fireplace and he struggled to get up when she came in. She quickly waved him back to his seat.

      ‘I pray you will not exert yourself, Mr Shaw. You are not yet fully recovered.’

      She remembered the purple-black bruises she had seen on his body. A strong, muscular body, she recalled, and hastily buried the thought, hoping the sudden heat in her cheeks was not noticeable.

      ‘I am well aware of that,’ he said ruefully, dropping back into his seat. ‘I shall have to leave it to John to escort you to the table.’

      He lifted a hand and beckoned to his manservant, who was hovering in the shadows. Nancy smiled her thanks at Mr Thoresby and while he filled her wine glass, she removed her shawl and arranged it over the back of her chair. She was surprised how nervous she felt to be dining alone with a man and needed time to compose herself.

      Thoresby stepped back and gave a little bow. ‘If you are ready, ma’am, Mrs Yelland and I will serve dinner immediately.’

      When the man had left them, Gabriel picked up his glass and saluted her. ‘I am greatly in your debt, Mrs Hopwood.’

      ‘It is no more than any Christian would do. I could not leave you to perish in the cold.’

      ‘Come, madam, you have done so much more than that. Not only did you save my life, but for the past several days you have helped to nurse me and yet, Thoresby tells me, you have never once pressed him for an explanation.’ He looked at her, a gleam of laughter in his blue eyes. ‘Not many women would have been so forbearing.’

      She felt a smile tugging at her mouth.

      ‘The poor man has lived in fear of my interrogation, but I thought it best to wait until you could tell me everything.’

      A sudden draught announced the opening of the door. Hester and Thoresby came in. Nancy watched them, a feeling of pride warming her as she saw the food she had planned and laboured over placed on the table. Gabriel, too, was regarding the array of dishes with blatant appreciation.

      ‘I fear I have greatly inconvenienced you, madam,’ he remarked. ‘You have had to break your journey. Will that not make people anxious, friends, family?’

      ‘Robert, my footman, has gone ahead with a message. He is a resourceful fellow and, with a full purse, I have no doubt he found a way to reach his goal. My friends will know I shall be perfectly safe with William Coachman. And there is Hester, too. My companion.’

      She smiled up at the older woman, who was setting out the remainder of the dishes on a small side table.

      Hester bent an unsmiling gaze upon Nancy and said pointedly, ‘Would you like me to stay, madam?’

      ‘No, no, we shall serve ourselves, thank you, Hester. Go now and enjoy your own dinner.’ Noting her friend’s hesitation, she added, ‘You may be sure I shall call you if I need you.’

      When they were alone Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. ‘Does she fear for your reputation?’

      ‘Very likely.’ Nancy laughed. ‘I really do not think I have anything to fear from you in your present state. After all, you can barely stand up.’

      Again, that glinting smile in his eyes.

      ‘I might beguile you with my charm and ready wit.’

      ‘You might try,’ she agreed cordially, accepting another glass of wine from him, ‘but you will not distract me from my reason for agreeing to dine with you.’

      ‘And that is?’

      ‘I want an explanation, of course. Why you were attacked, why you are living here with only Mr Thoresby to look after you. He says he is your valet, but he is able to turn his hand to almost anything.’

      ‘Yes, he is indispensable to me. But before we discuss anything more we should eat,’ he suggested, surveying the table. ‘It looks and smells very inviting. I believe you cooked everything yourself?’

      ‘With Hester to help me.’

      ‘Then, pray tell me what we have here.’

      ‘There is beef brisket, cooked in wine, and stewed mushrooms—I found a jar in the larder, very neatly labelled and dated, for which I am grateful to whomever left it there!—an apple tart and a hash of wild duck from a fine bird that my coachman acquired when he went to buy the vegetables.’ She noted his sudden wariness and added, ‘Pray calm yourself, Mr Shaw. William was very discreet. I sent him to the market in East Markham, rather than Darlton.’

      ‘What makes you think there is a need for discretion?’

      His innocent look did not deceive her. ‘Everything about you!’

      He