The Highborn Housekeeper. Sarah Mallory

was surprisingly enjoyable, dining alone with Gabriel Shaw. She had expected to feel ill at ease, she had certainly intended to keep the man at a distance, but it took only a short time in his company for her to relax and she found herself talking to him as she would to an old friend. Not that she trusted him, of course. She knew nothing about him. But he was good company, he spoke like an intelligent man, and made no attempt to patronise or flirt with her.

      He tried most of the dishes, which was gratifying, but he did not eat heartily. Unsurprising, she thought, considering he had only that morning risen from his bed. When he had finished his meal, he pushed away his empty plate.

      ‘My compliments, madam. The food is excellent. Where did you learn to cook like this?’

      ‘From a Frenchman. I spent many hours in his kitchen as a child and he thought it better that I should be working than to have me getting in the way.’

      He raised his glass to her. ‘Then you proved an apt pupil.’

      His praise warmed her, but it also set alarm bells ringing. She must not allow herself to fall for his undoubted charm. Time to make him aware of her menial status.

      ‘He was an excellent teacher. Cooking is now how I earn my living.’

      He sat back, his brows raised in surprise. ‘Yet you have your own carriage and servants.’

      ‘My employers insisted upon it.’

      ‘They must think very highly of you to allow you to travel in such style.’

      ‘Good cooks are difficult to find and even more difficult to keep.’

      ‘But you were not born a servant, Mrs Hopwood.’

      She hesitated. ‘No.’ She gathered up the empty plates and carried them to the side table. ‘I am a widow and must needs make my living where I can.’

      He reached out and caught her hand as she passed his chair.

      ‘This is an expensive wedding ring. Surely your husband made some provision for you?’

      Nancy glanced down at the heavy gold band on her finger, a necessary accoutrement for her masquerade as the relict of a wealthy man. Harder to explain on the hand of a poor cook.

      ‘His death was...unexpected. This is all I have left of him. I could not bear to part with it.’

      She felt the weight of guilt growing heavier with every embellishment of her story. It made her uncomfortable to lie to him, she did not want to do it. Her only consolation was that as soon as the road was clear she would leave Dell House and the enigmatic Gabriel Shaw. Mrs Hopwood would disappear for ever and she could once again be plain Miss Nancy.

      She was startled to feel such little comfort in the thought. She loved her life at Prospect House, didn’t she? She had her friends there and more than enough work to fill her days. Standing here with this man, this stranger holding her fingers, she suddenly realised why she threw herself into her work each day. It was to tire her, to help her sleep through the lonely nights. She withdrew her hand and returned to her seat.

      ‘But I did not come here to talk about me.’

      ‘Ah.’ He refilled the wine glasses. ‘Now we get to it.’

      ‘Yes. I want to know about you, Mr Gabriel Shaw.’

      ‘How flattering.’ He sat back and smiled at her. ‘Very well. I am not married, and have no intention of taking a wife. Why limit myself to one woman when I can have a dozen mistresses?’ He added wickedly, ‘So I am quite unattached at the present time, Mrs Hopwood, if that is what you were wondering.’

      ‘That is not what I meant at all!’ Nancy bit her lip, blushing.

      He was teasing her, trying to distract her. She could not allow that. Yet now that the moment had come she did not want to ask him about his business here. She was suddenly afraid that she might not like the answers. But it must be done. Nancy squared her shoulders and looked him in the face.

      ‘Who are you, Mr Shaw? How do you come to be living here?’

      ‘I came here from London, to, er, rusticate.’

      ‘You are running away from some scandal, perhaps?’ It would be a woman, she thought, remembering the jolt of awareness she had experienced when he had caught her hand in his own, strong grasp. With his handsome face and undoubted charm, he was almost irresistible.

      Another thought to be firmly quashed.

      ‘Something like that.’ He fixed his eyes on his wine glass, twisting it round by the stem. ‘I brought only one servant. As you have noticed, John Thoresby is much more to me than a mere valet. We have been together for years. He is a man of many talents and I need no one else to look after me while I am here.’ He looked across the table at her. ‘So, there you have it, Mrs Hopwood, I am an ordinary single gentleman, on a repairing lease.’

      He was smiling at her, his blue eyes warm, and she had to fight against the sudden tug of attraction. He was trying to bamboozle her and she was having none of it.

      She said, ‘I do not believe you are what you say, Mr Shaw. Ordinary gentlemen might be set upon, robbed and left for dead, but footpads do not normally take the trouble to strip their victim of his coat and then carry him several miles to a secluded spot to die. When William returned from East Markham he told me the snow had been much worse there. Several inches had fallen and the continuing icy weather means there is no sign of it thawing. If I had not found you, your body might have been lying in that copse for weeks.’

      ‘Since my attackers did not speak to me, I cannot tell you why they chose to do that, but it is no matter. I am alive, thanks to your timely ministrations, but I have imposed enough on your goodwill, madam. There is no longer any need for you to delay your journey, I am well on the way to a full recovery.’

      ‘On the way, yes, but you are barely able to walk without help.’

      ‘My strength will return very quickly now I am up and about. John Thoresby can do all I need.’

      But the puzzle of the attack upon Gabriel Shaw was preying upon Nancy’s mind. She shook her head.

      ‘Mr Thoresby may be well enough to wait upon you, but he is not yet fully recovered from his cold. A trifling illness in itself, perhaps, but he would need all his strength and his wits, too, should it be necessary to defend you.’

      ‘Defend me!’ He laughed. ‘What nonsense is this?’

      She was not tempted to smile. ‘You told me yourself, when I came upon you in the wood. Someone wants you dead, Mr Shaw.’

      * * *

      Gabriel looked at the woman sitting opposite and felt his exasperation growing. He did not want her mixed up in his affairs, yet she was proving damnably difficult to shift. Perhaps he had been too polite.

      ‘And if they do, what concern is it of yours, madam?’

      Her brows went up. She said lightly, ‘After the effort I have put into saving you, I do not intend to let anyone kill you now.’

      ‘Very well, let us admit there is some danger. Staying here might jeopardise your own safety. I cannot take you into my confidence—’

      ‘Well, you should.’

      ‘Damnation, woman, I do not want you here!’

      She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, giving him back look for look.

      ‘Since you are not yet well enough to physically throw me out of this house, Mr Shaw, I think you should give in gracefully, do not you?’

      His sense of the ridiculous got the better of him and his lips twitched. She did not miss it and her own generous mouth widened into a broad smile.

      ‘That is much better, sir. Now, I will call Hester and we will take these dishes to the kitchen—’

      ‘No.