A disgraced lady

Turned lowly housekeeper

Earl’s daughter Nancy turned her back on the aristocracy when she fled a forced marriage, working instead as a cook and housekeeper. But in nursing an injured man back to health, Nancy uncovers a deep longing for the dangerously attractive Gabriel, and a surprise: he’s working to protect government secrets! She wants to help him. But to do so, Nancy will have to return to the life she once cast aside...

SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire Moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, including the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award for The Dangerous Lord Darrington and for Beneath the Major’s Scars.

Also by Sarah Mallory

The Duke’s Secret Heir

Pursued for the Viscount’s Vengeance

The Infamous Arrandales miniseries

The Chaperon’s Seduction

Temptation of a Governess

Return of the Runaway

The Outcast’s Redemption

Saved From Disgrace miniseries

The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake

Beauty and the Brooding Lord

The Highborn Housekeeper

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Highborn Housekeeper

Sarah Mallory

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08915-9

THE HIGHBORN HOUSEKEEPER

© 2019 Sarah Mallory

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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To my four-legged companion, Willow,

who keeps me company when I write,

and keeps me fit with regular walks!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The snow started at dusk. Only a few flakes at first, but soon it was falling steadily and coating the icy ground.

Nancy was warm enough, dressed in her riding habit of plum-coloured velvet with its matching curly-brimmed hat and wrapped in a voluminous cloak. Her companion, too, looked snug in a heavy wool redingote and shawl and they both had their feet resting on warm bricks and snuggled into sheepskin, but she felt some sympathy for the servants sitting up on the box.

However, when they stopped to change horses at the Crown in Tuxford and her driver suggested that she might put up there for the night, she was adamant that they should continue. William, who had come to the chaise door to issue his advice, pushed back his hat and stared at her, perplexed. His breath formed small icy clouds as he spoke with all the confidence of an old and trusted retainer.

‘I don’t like it, madam, and that’s a fact. The snow don’t show no signs of easing. We should stop here.’

‘It is but very fine snow,’ she responded. ‘There is nothing much to accumulate and no wind to cause any drifting, so we shall go on.’ She noted his frown and conceded one point. ‘You may order yourselves something hot to drink, if you wish, and have them bring coffee out for Mrs Yelland and me. And perhaps you will ask them to provide fresh hot bricks for our feet.’

‘You won’t step inside, ma’am, just for a few minutes?’ The woman sitting beside her spoke for the first time. ‘We might warm ourselves by a fire.’

‘No, Hester, we will push on.’ Nancy shook her head. It was not only the memories this place conjured for her, she dared not risk being recognised.

Her companion read the determination in Nancy’s face and sighed as she settled herself back into her corner. ‘Very well, ma’am, you know best.’

Nancy heard the disappointment in Hester Yelland’s voice, but would not change her mind. She was unusually tall for a woman and that would attract attention. Someone might recognise her. After all, she had immediately known the landlord as he stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, watching the travelling chaise as it came into the yard. He had been assessing whether it was worth his while to step out into the cold and she was relieved that his experienced eye noted that it was a rather shabby vehicle. Instead he had sent a servant out to speak to William Coachman, who was calling to the ostlers for fresh horses and be quick about it.

The landlord had barely changed in the twelve years since she had last seen him, save to grow a little rounder, and while Nancy felt very different inside, outwardly she knew that with her height and abundance of dark hair she looked much the same as she had done all those years ago, when she had slipped away on the common stage with nothing but a hastily packed portmanteau and the little money she had managed to save. Looking back, it was a wonder she had survived the past dozen years relatively unscathed. But she had survived and with very few regrets.

Within minutes they were travelling again. The snow had ceased, at least for the moment, and the waning crescent moon shone down intermittently between ragged clouds. However, it was noticeably colder. Nancy pulled her cloak more tightly about her and tried to sleep, but it was impossible in the lurching carriage. Very soon she became aware that they were slowing again and sat up. When they came to a complete stop she let down the window.

‘What is it?’ she called. ‘What has occurred?’

The coachman had jumped down and was now standing beside the team.

‘One of the wheelers has cast a shoe, ma’am,’ he called to her, beating his hands together to warm them. ‘We’ll have to go back now—’

‘No.’ Nancy looked out at the moonlit landscape. ‘No, it makes more sense to go forward rather than back. Let us push on to the Black Bull.’

‘But we have come barely two miles from Tuxford—’

‘Then we are closer to the Bull,’ Nancy told him. ‘It has a smithy next door.’ Or at least there used to be. ‘Come, now, let us press on.’

They continued at a much-reduced pace and Nancy breathed a sigh of relief when at last they reached the cluster of cottages that comprised the village of Little Markham. The Black Bull was a much smaller hostelry than the Crown at Tuxford and it was patronised mainly by local gentry and farmers. Nancy had passed this way frequently in her youth, but she had never stopped here before. Nevertheless, she kept her hood up, shadowing her face as the landlord escorted her and her companion into a small private parlour.

‘Thank heaven they have a good fire,’ muttered Hester, moving to the hearth. ‘I hope to goodness the smith won’t be too long about his business.’

‘I hope so, too,’ Nancy responded, drawing off her gloves. ‘But it is not so very bad. We shall take up the landlady’s offer of dinner and we can then travel through the night and make up the time. There is some moonlight, after all.’

The older woman turned to look at Nancy. ‘You wouldn’t stop at Tuxford and now you are very anxious to move on. Why would that be, madam? Do you know this area?’

‘I know it very well. I grew up near here.’

Nancy was grateful that she did not press her to say more, but she was not surprised, for they understood one another. Hester Yelland was a widow whom Nancy had hired to be her companion while she was in London. They had become firm friends and when Nancy had invited her to travel north with her, Hester had jumped at the chance.

‘After all,’ she had said, giving one of her rare smiles, ‘there’s no one here to care whether I go or stay.’

Now she merely shrugged, accepting Nancy’s reticence and saying gruffly, ‘Very well, you make yourself comfortable, madam, and I’ll go and chivvy the landlady to bring us our dinner as soon as possible!’

* * *

When they had finished their meal, the two women moved to the chairs by the fire. Hester was soon dozing, but Nancy was far too restless. She was impatient to be gone, but the coachman had not long returned from the smithy and would not yet have started his dinner. She knew she could insist that they set off immediately—after all, the men were being paid handsomely for their services—but she would not. She knew only too well what it was like to be at the beck and call of a selfish and demanding employer.

She went over to the window and looked out. The sky had cleared and the snow-blanketed fields gleamed bluish-silver in the pale moonlight. An icy frost glittered on the roof tiles of the buildings and all at once Nancy felt stifled by the little parlour. She glanced at Hester, who was snoring gently, then she quietly left the room, picking up her cloak and swinging it about her shoulders as she went.

The night air was so clear and cold it caught in her throat. Nancy paused for a moment, deciding which way to go. The majority of the cottages hugged the roadside to the south of the inn, but to the north the road wound its way through an expanse of heath, the open vista broken only by a small copse in the distance. Nancy put up her hood and set off northwards, striding out purposefully, glad to be active after so many hours cooped up in the carriage. It was very still and nothing was moving—soon even the sounds of the inn were left behind. Fleetingly, Nancy wished she had remembered her gloves, but to go back now might disturb Hester and she was loath to do that, for her companion was clearly exhausted by the journey. She might also try to dissuade Nancy from walking out alone at night, although there was nothing to fear: she had a clear view across the snowy heath and nothing was stirring. There was no sound save the crunch of her boots on the thin layer of snow that covered the iron-hard ground.

She glanced at the eastern horizon, where black clouds were massing, threatening more snow. That might well delay even further her return to Compton Parva and all her friends at Prospect House. She had been away for several months and wondered how they had managed without her to fuss and cosset them. Almost immediately she scolded herself for such conceit. No one was indispensable and she had no doubt they had coped exceedingly well. She hoped they had missed her, then was shocked to realise how little she had missed them while she had been in town.

Her only excuse was that she had been very busy and it had not been a trip of pleasure. Nancy had gone to London, masquerading as the rich widow of a tradesman, to help a good friend, but she could not deny she had enjoyed herself, wearing fine clothes and shopping in Bond Street, visiting the theatre, attending parties. Dancing. Flirting. It had all been pretence, of course. A charade, necessary for the character she was playing, but it had given her a glimpse of what her life might have been, if she had not cut herself off from the polite world. She might even be happily married by now. Perhaps with children.

Nancy gave herself a little shake. She had made her choice and it was too late to change now. And she did not regret her decision to remain single and independent. Not at all. Yet the little worm of doubt gnawed away at her, the vague feeling of dissatisfaction, as if something was missing from her life. Not something, she realised now. Someone.

‘Bah. You are becoming sentimental,’ she scolded herself, her breath misting in the cold air. ‘Just because you are passing so close to your old home. That is all in the past now, you have a good life with your friends at Prospect House. And you are not totally bereft of family.’

She had her sister, Lady Aspern, but they only ever communicated by letter, and in secret. Mary’s husband disapproved of undutiful daughters who disobeyed their fathers and ran away. Thinking of Aspern, Nancy’s lip curled. He was just the sort of gentleman she most despised. She would much rather keep her independence than be wed to such a man.

But the feeling of discontent still gnawed at her and she was forced to admit that she was not as keen to return to her old life as she had thought she would be. The future stretched ahead of her, safe, predictable. Dull.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that it was something of a shock to find herself beside the little wood, the thin, straight trunks and bare branches forming a black latticework against the night sky. Heavens, had she walked so far? She was about to turn back when something in the copse caught her eye. There was no more than a dusting of snow on the ground between the trees and a faint shaft of moonlight sliced between the straight trunks and rested on a more solid block of white, something that almost gleamed in the shadowy copse. Curiosity got the better of Nancy. She stepped into the little wood. Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she moved closer. Then, when she was almost upon it, she realised it was a man’s shirt of fine linen. And the owner was still wearing it.

Her heart began to pound heavily. The man was lying face down on the ground and dressed only in his shirt, breeches and top boots. She dropped to her knees beside him and put her fingers against his neck. The skin was cold, but she could feel a faint pulse. Nancy became aware of the smell of spirits and spotted an empty bottle on the ground nearby. Her lip curled. A drunkard, then, who had wandered out half-dressed. Even so, he was someone’s son. He might be a husband and father. She could not bring herself to leave him here to perish. She shook him roughly by the shoulder.

‘Come along, man, you must get up. If you stay here, you will be dead of cold by the morning.’

There was no response. She took hold of him and tried to turn him over. Nancy was not a small woman and she considered herself no weakling, but he was a tall man and heavy. It took her a great deal of effort to turn him on to his back. His damp shirt front was covered with twigs and leaf mould. Her eyes moved to his face. She expected to see a haggard countenance, blotched and ravaged by drink, but even in the near dark of the trees she could see he was a handsome man, despite an ugly bruise on his cheek. He was clean-shaven, his dark hair tousled and falling over his brow. Absently she put out a hand to smooth it back and felt the warm stickiness of blood on her fingers. Her first thought was that he had been attacked and she snatched her hand away in alarm. She glanced fearfully around her. There was no movement, no sound. She breathed slowly, trying to settle her jangled nerves. She was surely being fanciful, for who would be abroad on a night like this? It was most likely the man had cut his head when he had fallen in a drunken stupor.

‘And serves him right,’ she muttered, wiping her fingers on her handkerchief. ‘Wake up!’ She slapped his cheeks. ‘Wake up, damn you, or I will leave you here to die.’

A response, at last. No more than a faint groan, but Nancy exhaled with relief. She patted his face again and this time he grimaced and moved his head.

‘Confound it, woman, stop hitting me!’

His voice was deep, no trace of a local accent. He was most likely a gentleman, then, and educated, thought Nancy. Someone who should know better than to indulge in a drunken spree. The fact did nothing for her temper.

‘I am trying to save your life, you idiot.’ She tugged insistently at his shoulder and helped him as he struggled to sit up. ‘You may be damnably drunk, but you cannot stay out much longer in this icy cold.’

‘I am not damnably drunk,’ he growled. ‘I am not drunk at all.’

‘No, of course not.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘Only a sober man would go abroad without his coat.’ He was shivering and she untied the strings of her cloak. ‘Here.’ He did not object as she wrapped the thick woollen mantle about him. ‘Now, can you stand?’

He breathed out, clutching his ribs as he did so.

‘Madam, I do not know where you have come from, but I think you should go. Now.’

Nancy gasped. ‘Well, of all the ungrateful—’

He interrupted her. ‘Being anywhere near me puts you in danger. Someone intended to kill me tonight.’

Chapter Two

Nancy stared at the man.

‘If you are not drunk, you are clearly mad.’

‘I am neither, you hen-witted woman.’ He put a tentative hand to his head. ‘I was attacked as I left a tavern in Darlton—’

‘Darlton! But that is nearly five miles away.’

‘What?’ He winced as the exclamation shook him and moved his head stiffly to look about him. ‘Then where is this?’

‘We are just north of Little Markham.’

‘The devil we are.’ He flinched again. ‘I have no idea how many men attacked me, but my body feels as if it was used as a punch bag. If they took my coat and waistcoat, they clearly intended the cold to finish me off. This wood is too small to attract poachers and they would not expect anyone else to be abroad on so cold a night.’ It was as if he was talking to himself and had forgotten her presence, until he glanced up and added, ‘They certainly would not expect an eccentric female to be taking a night-time stroll.’

Nancy curbed her temper with an effort.

‘This is doing no good at all,’ she told him. ‘Let us argue the point by all means, but not here. We are less than half a mile from the Black Bull. Let me take you there.’

He struggled to his feet, using the nearest tree for support.

‘My good woman, I would never make it half that distance.’ He leaned against the trunk, breathing with difficulty as his eyes ran over her. ‘You may be a Long Meg, but I do not think you could carry me all the way.’

‘Very well, I will return to the inn and get help.’

‘No! That’s too dangerous.’ He added ominously, ‘For both of us.’

‘Then what am I do to with you?’ she cried, exasperated.

‘Why, nothing. I am grateful for your help, but the best thing now is for you to go away.’ He clung to the tree trunk, his face twisting with pain. ‘If you will allow me to keep your cloak, I think I shall survive the cold and hopefully in a while I shall be sufficiently recovered to make my way back to Darlton.’

Of all the pig-headed, stubborn—Nancy sought for words to express her frustration and echoed his earlier exclamation.

‘The devil you will!’ He did not even blink at her unladylike response, but his brows lifted, as if he was surprised anyone should contradict him. She said, through gritted teeth, ‘You had already admitted you could not reach the Black Bull. You would collapse before you covered half the distance to Darlton. I shall take you.’

‘No. I have told you, it is too dangerous.’

She continued as if he had not spoken.

‘My carriage is at the inn, ready to travel. You will wait here for me and I shall take you up and carry you to your house.’ He frowned at her, as if he wanted to refuse. A sudden icy breeze stirred the empty branches and she said bluntly, ‘You will not last for long out of doors in this weather so you had best accept my help. There really is no other way.’

He scowled at her. ‘As long as you tell no one.’

‘If that is what you wish,’ she replied, with a touch of impatience. ‘You are clearly raving and it behoves me to humour you. Once we have deposited you at your abode we will be on our way. My servants are my own and they are engaged to carry me all the way to Yorkshire, so no one here need be any the wiser.’

‘By God, you are a stubborn woman.’

‘But a practical one,’ she retorted. ‘Now, let me go and fetch my carriage before I, too, become chilled to the bone!’

She turned to walk away, but he called to her to wait. She glanced back, brows raised.

‘To whom am I indebted for this signal service?’

‘I do not think it necessary for you to know that, since our acquaintance will not be of long duration.’

‘But I should like to know.’ His teeth gleamed in the light. ‘My name is Gabriel Shaw, if that helps.’

The smile and coaxing note in his voice caught her unawares.

‘I am Nancy.’ Heavens, she was behaving like a giddy girl, responding to a charming flirt! She pulled herself together and added coldly, ‘Mrs Hopwood, that is.’

* * *

Nancy flew back to the inn, spurred on as much by a sudden excitement as the icy cold. Within minutes of her arrival she had ordered her chaise to be brought to the door and she bundled Hester into it, refusing to answer any questions until they were on their way.

‘Now what mischief are you up to?’ Hester demanded as she settled herself more comfortably into one corner. ‘And for heaven’s sake put up the glass!’

Nancy ignored her. It was snowing again, big, fat flakes that settled on everything. One or two drifted in through the open window, but she refused to close it, peering out into the gloom. As they approached the little wood she leaned out and shouted to William to stop. Even as the carriage slowed to a halt she opened the door and jumped down, ignoring her companion’s horrified grasp.

‘Mercy me, whatever are you about? Miss Nancy. Madam!’

‘Peace, Hester, I will explain everything in a moment.’

With a word to the servants on the box, Nancy stared into the copse. At first it was nothing but black trunks and shadows and for one frightening moment she doubted herself. Perhaps she had dreamt the whole thing. Worse, perhaps the man had wandered off and collapsed somewhere. Then she saw a movement among the trees, a cloaked figure coming slowly out of the wood.

‘There you are!’ She ran up to him. ‘You are limping. I had not thought—are you badly hurt? Here, let me help you.’

She pulled his arm around her shoulders. Only then did she realise how tall he must be, because she did not have to stoop to support him.

He leaned heavily against her.

‘Bruised,’ he muttered, ‘nothing broken.’

‘Tell me where we are to take you.’ She walked with him slowly towards the chaise while the snowflakes, big as goose down, settled on them.

‘Dell House.’ He winced again, and she realised that every step was painful for him. ‘A few miles this side of Darlton.’

‘On the Lincoln Road. I know it.’

They had reached the carriage and she called to Hester to help her get him inside, then she gave hurried directions to her coachman. The men on the box were clearly bursting with curiosity, but Nancy’s tone told them she would brook no objection and they both accepted her instructions with no more than a nod.

It was more difficult to pacify Hester, who had moved to the corner furthest away from the stranger and was staring at him, horrified.

‘Nancy, Nancy, what are you about? You have taken up a drunken stranger. He may be a dangerous villain for all we know.’ She gave a little cry as the carriage lurched forward. ‘Heaven preserve us, have you run quite mad?’

‘Not in the least,’ replied Nancy, sitting beside Gabriel and holding him steady. Snowflakes still clung to her jacket and to the cloak wrapped about him. She brushed them off with her free hand before they could melt into the wool. ‘I am merely being a Good Samaritan. We are going to deliver this poor man to his home.’ He was shivering and she added urgently, ‘Pray, put your hot brick beneath his feet, Hester, and give me your shawl. I shall wrap the other brick for him to hold against his body.’

Hester did as Nancy bade her, muttering all the time.

‘I don’t say I understand any of this. Do you know this man?’

‘Not in the least, but he assures me he is not intoxicated. He told me he had been waylaid.’ A laugh escaped her. ‘Heavens, what an adventure!’

Hester’s snort spoke volumes, but Nancy was more concerned with Gabriel, who had lapsed into unconsciousness. She eased him down until he was lying along the seat, his long legs trailing to the floor. The wound on his skull was no longer bleeding and when she placed her fingers on his neck she thought his pulse was stronger, but perhaps she only wanted that to be so.

‘I have done as much as I can for him,’ she muttered, sinking to her knees on the carriage floor and resting one hand lightly on his coat, reassured by the rise and fall of his chest.

As they rumbled on she remained at his side, holding him securely on the seat. A rueful smile pulled at her mouth. An adventure indeed, to take up a strange man and drive him to safety. Dell House was only a few miles from her old home. The place she had avoided for more than a decade.

The heady excitement within her faded. Nancy glanced out of the window. The snow was falling steadily and thankfully there was little wind to cause drifting, but she knew that could change in a twinkling. She had been foolish in the extreme to leave the main road, to put herself out for a stranger. She remembered their brief conversation, the sudden, glinting smile that had melted her anger. She had not realised it at the time, but that smile had set her pulse racing. Charm, she thought now. The man had an abundance of charm.

She glanced at his unconscious figure. He was bruised, battered and now dangerously chilled. He would need diligent nursing and nourishing food to return him to health. She could do that. It was her strength, it was what she enjoyed, looking after damaged creatures.

Nancy pulled herself up with a jolt. What was she thinking? This man was not her concern. She must not allow her sympathies to run away with her. Heavens, had she learned nothing in the last twelve years? She shivered and moved on to the seat beside Hester, who patted her knee.

‘You’ve got too kind a heart, Miss Nancy, that’s your trouble. We should have told the landlord to fetch the fellow back to the inn. They could have cared for him there.’

‘Perhaps, but he was so adamant I should not tell a soul.’ Nancy sighed. ‘I confess, I shall be glad to leave him with his own people and we can be on our way.’

* * *

However, when at last they reached Dell House, no servants ran out from the house or the outbuildings to greet them. The sky had cleared and Nancy had a good view of the house in its snowy setting. It was a modest gentleman’s residence, sitting four-square in its own grounds, and it was in darkness, save for a glimmer of light from the fanlight above the door. Without waiting for her footman, Robert, to climb down from the box, Nancy alighted and went to the door, where she rapped smartly upon the knocker.

Silence.

Robert joined her, his hat and shoulders white with snow. ‘Don’t seem to be anyone at home, ma’am.’

‘There has to be.’ She beat another tattoo upon the door. ‘Are we sure this is the right house?’

‘Aye, ma’am, Dell House. ’Tis carved on the gateposts, clear as day.’

At that moment there was the sound of bolts being drawn back and Nancy gave a sigh of relief.

‘At last.’ She schooled her face into a look of cheerfulness, but a sudden loud sneeze from behind the door made her step back in surprise.

A man opened the door, a lamp held aloft in one hand. He cut a very sorry figure, standing before them in his stockinged feet and with a blanket hung loosely about his hunched shoulders. His eyes looked heavy, there was the dark shadow of stubble on his face and his hair was tousled, as if he had just risen from his bed.

‘Good evening, I—’

She was interrupted by another loud sneeze. The man buried his face in a large handkerchief.

‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice was muffled by the cloth over his nose but he was clearly mortified. ‘A cold!’ he managed to gasp, before being overcome by another explosive sneeze.

‘Yes, well, we have an injured man in the carriage,’ said Nancy. ‘A Mr Gabriel Shaw.’

‘By baster!’

‘Yes, your master.’ Nancy was relieved to have that point confirmed. ‘We need to get him into a warm bed as soon as possible. Can you—?’ She stopped as the man was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. ‘Is there anyone else in the house who can help?’

‘Do one,’ he managed. ‘Only be and I’m weak as a cat.’

Nancy pursed her lips. ‘Well, we cannot stand here discussing the matter. If you cannot help, then we must see to your master. All you need do is lead the way.’ She looked past him into the darkened hall. ‘Robert, go with him and light some candles in there, for heaven’s sake.’

She turned and marched back to the carriage, where Hester was at the open door.

‘What is it, ma’am? Are we at the right place?’

‘Oh, yes, but the only servant is suffering from a heavy cold. No use to us at all. We shall have to get Mr Shaw into the house ourselves.’

Hester nodded. ‘Between us I am sure we can manage. The sooner he is in his own bed the better.’

They wrapped the cloak more securely around the man and William and Robert carried him up to what was clearly the main bedchamber. Everything was tidy and Nancy noted that the bed was made, but the fire had gone out and the room was distinctly chilly.

‘This will never do,’ she declared as the men laid their burden on the bed. ‘William, you and Robert must go and find kindling and fuel to light the fire. And if there is a fire in the kitchen, then reheat the bricks and bring them back here. This man needs all the warmth we can give him.’ She waved at the servant who had let them into the house. ‘Take him with you, he will show you where to find everything and he is of no use at all here.’ When the men had withdrawn, she turned to her companion. ‘Hester, you must help me get him out of his wet things. Come along now.’

‘This is no job for you, madam! You must leave it to me—’ Hester protested, scandalised, but Nancy cut her short.

‘You will never manage him alone, he is a dead weight.’

She set to work on unbuttoning the filthy shirt. Together they removed his clothing and Nancy used the towel hanging near the washstand to buff some warmth into his cold limbs. He was no weakling, she thought, as she rubbed vigorously at his arms. A smattering of dark hair shadowed his deep chest, tapering downwards until it was hidden by the sheet that Hester had insisted upon pulling up decorously over his lower body.

She tried not to press too hard on the bruises that were beginning to show. No wonder he had struggled to walk. She helped Hester to put him into his nightshirt and covered him with quantities of blankets before she started to clean his face.

She refused Hester’s offer to help. The man was her patient, she felt a certain responsibility for him.

‘Perhaps you could fetch the lavender water from my dressing case,’ she suggested. ‘We can sprinkle a little on his pillow. And if you go to the kitchen perhaps you could bring up the hot bricks, too.’

‘Very well, I will go now. And if the bricks aren’t ready, I might be able to put some hot water into a few wine bottles,’ said Hester, moving towards the door.

‘Yes, yes. Anything to help warm him.’

Left alone with the man, Nancy set to work with a damp cloth, cleaning the wound on his head. Tenderly she smoothed the dark hair from his brow and wiped away the blood, then set to work removing the dirt from the rest of his face.

He stirred, as if awakened by her touch, and opened his eyes. They were a deep blue, she noted. He began to shift restlessly in the bed.

‘Hush now,’ she murmured, perching on the side of the bed and placing one hand on his chest. ‘You are safe.’

He began to mutter, incomprehensible but clearly agitated. She quickly dried his face, crooning as she might to a fractious child. At last he grew calmer; his gaze steadied and became fixed upon Nancy, but he was looking straight through her. Something knotted inside her, constricting her breath. She dearly wanted him to know she was there.

He had freed one hand from the bedcovers and she caught it in her own.

‘Safe,’ she repeated, smiling down at him.

He grew still, the eyes remained glazed, but his long fingers wrapped themselves about hers, their grasp surprisingly strong. He lapsed into unconsciousness, but Nancy did not move. Even when Hester returned and placed the hot bricks wrapped in flannel under the covers, she remained curled up beside her patient.

‘Come away, Miss Nancy, ’tis not seemly for you to be sitting on a man’s bed.’

‘Why? He does not know I am here.’ She saw Hester was looking anxious and smiled. ‘Very well, you may bring over a chair for me. But I must stay close. I think he finds some comfort in holding my hand and it makes me feel as if I am doing something.’

‘You have done too much for the fellow already,’ muttered Hester.

She said no more, for the men had returned and they set to work on the fire, which was soon blazing merrily in the hearth.

‘There,’ said Hester, ‘I think we can safely leave Mr Shaw with his man now, Miss Nancy, and be on our way. Come along.’

But Nancy did not leave her seat. She dragged her gaze from the unconscious man in the bed to the woebegone figure of the servant, leaning against the wall, coughing and wheezing into his handkerchief.

‘Oh, I think not.’ She looked up at Hester, a rueful smile in her eyes. ‘I really do not see how we can leave these two poor men to fend for themselves, do you?’

* * *

Gabriel was surfacing from some deep, black pit. His eyelids fluttered but he did not open them fully, for the light was painful and the slightest movement of his head made it throb. In fact, as consciousness returned, he was aware that his whole body ached like the devil.

He lay still, not struggling to recall what had happened, but allowing memory to return. Still, icy night, the cold bone-deep. The empty lane to Darlton, black shadows and the sudden rush of his attackers. He had thought it was footpads, but those two assailants proved to be no more than a diversion for whoever came from behind and knocked him unconscious. Then he was on the ground, among the trees and being harangued by a female to get up.

Gingerly he opened his eyes. He was in Dell House, in his own bedchamber. Presumably she had brought him here, as she had promised. Another memory stirred. Someone wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, the soothing smell of lavender. The woman’s voice, softer this time, bidding him to be still. Now he did make an effort to remember. He closed his eyes again, concentrating. Yes, he had seen her. She had come towards the bed, into the lamplight. A full, womanly figure, dark-eyed, red-lipped, with an abundance of glossy dark hair. She had leaned over him, her face full of concern. The same woman who had found him in the copse. Or had he dreamt the whole?

He heard the click of the door, soft footsteps and Thoresby appeared beside the bed, carrying a tray. The man was so much more than a servant, Gabriel counted him a loyal friend and he was relieved to see him.

‘John.’

‘Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you awake at last.’

Gabriel frowned. ‘You were laid up in bed. I feared influenza.’

‘Thankfully it was nothing worse than a bad cold, sir, and I am much better now.’ John Thoresby set down the tray on a table that had been pulled close to the bed. With the smallest movement of his head Gabriel could see it held a bowl of something looking suspiciously like porridge. However, that was not his most pressing concern.

‘But you were too ill to get out of your bed.’

‘That was five days ago, sir.’

‘So long!’ He tried to sit up and winced as pain shot through his bruised body.

Thoresby came to help him, gently supporting his shoulders and rearranging the pillows. Gabriel muttered his thanks and leaned back, closing his eyes until the pains in his body settled into no more than a dull ache.

‘There is laudanum, sir, if you wish it.’

‘No. Just a little water, if you please.’

He insisted on holding the glass himself and managed to take a few sips, even though his hands shook. He was glad to relinquish it when he had finished and he leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closed.

‘John, there was a woman.’

‘Ah, yes. Mrs Hopwood.’

The name struck a chord.

‘She brought me here?’

‘Yes, she did. And very relieved I was to see you, even though I could scarce drag myself to the door when she knocked. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out alone.’

‘Damn it, John, you were too ill to be of use. Feverish, too. That is why I left you sleeping. But never mind that now. The woman. Did she stay here?’

‘Oh, yes, sir, she stayed,’ said Thoresby. ‘She is still here.’

‘What!’

John spread his hands. ‘It was impossible to stop her, sir. She marched in and took over. I was coughing and sneezing, trying to collect my wits, and the next minute she and her servants were putting you to bed. And no sooner had she made you comfortable than she set about preparing rooms for herself and her maid, while her footman and coachman made themselves at home.’ Thoresby paused. ‘I have to admit, sir, that I could not have tended you without her and that’s a fact. She packed me off to my bed and said she would see to everything. Said a good rest was probably all I needed and after a couple of days I’d be up and about again. And before you say I should’ve protested, I did. I tried, sir, I promise you. And all she said was I should stay away from you, in case I was infectious. It went against the grain, I can tell you, but truth to tell, I was too weak to be much use for the first couple of days.’

Gabriel recognised the truth of this and held his peace, but he was far from mollified. He glanced again at the tray.

‘I suppose that is what she considers a fit breakfast for an invalid.’

For the first time Thoresby would not meet his eyes.

‘Yes, sir. Porridge. It’s what we’ve been managing to get down you for the past couple of days. That and a little chicken broth she cooked up.’

Gabriel said drily, ‘Mrs Hopwood appears to be a very resourceful woman.’

Thoresby allowed himself a wry grin. ‘She’s helped us out of a rare scrape, sir, and that’s for sure. If she hadn’t come across you in that wood, you’d have perished by morning. And she and that companion of hers nursed you for the first three days while I was fit for nothing but sleep!’

‘And there’ve been no unwanted visitors, no one skulking about in the night?’

‘No sign that you was followed back here, sir. With the snow it’s been easy to see that the only tracks around the place are those made by myself or Mrs Hopwood’s servants. We’ve had that much snow the past few days that the roads are blocked now, so nothing’s moving by road.’

‘Then we must hope our whereabouts are unknown to my attackers. They may come looking for me, though, if they realise I am alive.’ He lay still for a moment, considering, then said, with sudden decision, ‘It is too dangerous for anyone else save ourselves to be here. You may tell Mrs Hopwood that her help is no longer required.’

‘I can try, sir, but I doubt she’ll go until she sees for yourself that you are recovered. Perhaps if you were to eat a few spoonfuls of the porridge...’

Gabriel cursed him roundly. ‘Take that stuff away and bring me my usual breakfast. Well, what is the matter now?’

‘The ladies have quite taken over the kitchen, sir. They have prepared every meal between them since they arrived. I’m not sure...’ Gabriel’s furious gaze made him say quickly, ‘I will go and see to it immediately, I am sure there will be no difficulty.’

‘There had better not be.’ Gabriel scowled at him. ‘After that you may help me to get up. If you won’t tell the damn woman to leave, then I will!

Chapter Three

Nancy was trimming a piece of beef when Thoresby came in with the tray. She glanced at the untouched breakfast dish.

‘Is your master still sleeping?’

‘No, ma’am, he is very much awake, and insists upon his usual morning meal of eggs and ham.’

He announced this with no little trepidation and such an appearance of one prepared to be executed for being the bearer of bad tidings that Nancy had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She had some sympathy with Mr Thoresby, for she knew she had been something of a tyrant in the past few days, but kitchens and cooking had been her domain for over a decade and she felt at home here. She had taken control, organising the meals and producing food suitable for the injured man, once he had been able to eat a little. Her friends laughingly called her a mother hen, wanting to look after everyone. A sudden warmth spread through her body. Not that she wished Gabriel Shaw to think her motherly!

She said now, ‘I am glad to hear he is feeling so much better. Would you like to prepare something for him? I am happy to leave this and attend to it, but you will know exactly how he likes his breakfast.’

The man quickly assured her that he was more than happy to prepare his master’s breakfast and set about 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 laughed. ‘Very well, we shall discuss that later. For now, let us eat!’

* * *

It 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. I pray you will allow John and your companion to take care of that. I should like you to stay and talk to me.’

‘That I cannot do.’ She walked to the fireplace and tugged at the bell pull. ‘You need your rest, sir. Hester and I will clear everything away and your man can help you back to bed.’

Confound it, she refused to quit the house, even though he had said she was in danger. But now she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of her company! Damned contrary woman.

She turned to look at him, saying innocently, ‘I beg your pardon, did you speak?’

He gave a growl of frustration. ‘You are the most managing female I have ever encountered.’

Her eyes gleamed with mischief and she was not a whit offended.

‘Hen-witted, too. You called me that in the wood. And eccentric,’ she added thoughtfully.

‘I did? I don’t remember it. Most likely I was trying to get rid of you.’

‘You were clearly suffering from the blow to your head, so I forgave you for your incivility. But I could not leave you then and I will not leave you now.’

With that she took a tray of dishes and sailed out of the room.

Chapter Four

Gabriel lay in his bed, exhausted by the effort of spending just a few hours out of it. The widow was right, damn her, he needed his rest. But strangely, now John had left him and he was lying alone in the darkness, he did not want to sleep. He was fortunate, he had numerous bruises, but nothing broken, and surprisingly, no broken ribs. Apart from the blow on the head which had rendered him unconscious, his injuries were most likely caused by being bounced around in a cart for the five-mile journey to the wood on the Great North Road. He should never have gone to the tavern in Darlton without John to watch his back, but what else could he do, when the fellow was so ill?

His mind wandered to the more pleasant subject of Mrs Hopwood. Nancy. He had some vague memory of her telling him that was her name. She had joined him for dinner, demurely dressed with no jewellery save her wedding ring, but not even the plainest gown could disguise the voluptuous figure beneath that blue silk. It had clung to her full, high breasts and shimmered over her hips when she walked. She had pinned up her hair, leaving just a few glossy ringlets resting against the back of her neck. In his mind he imagined what could have happened if she had not left him so quickly after the meal. He might have helped her rise from the table and slipped one hand around the ivory column of her neck, feeling the silken curls tickling his fingers as he pulled her towards him until he could kiss her full, red lips.

The thought made him stir restlessly, reminding him that his bruised and battered body was in no state to make love to a woman. He should sleep. He needed his rest, but when he closed his eyes Nancy’s image taunted him. She was not conventionally beautiful, her face was too strong for that—the high cheekbones and straight nose suggested a forceful character and, by heaven, he knew that to be true! Her generous mouth was made for laughter and he suspected she laughed often, for she had a keen sense of the ridiculous. Those chocolate-brown eyes had twinkled at him several times during the evening.

He frowned. But who was she, what was she? He tried to recall what she had said, when she had brought him to Dell House. When he had told her where he lived, she had said she knew it. So, she was no stranger to this area. Indeed, she must be well acquainted with it to know such an out-of-the-way place. And she was a gentlewoman by birth, he would swear to it, even though she said she earned her living.

A cook! He would not have believed it if he had not seen and tasted the proof of it for himself. And why should she not be? After all, many women of good birth fell on hard times and were obliged to make a living where they could. But something jarred with him. The way she moved, the way she talked. Her energy and sheer vivacity—he could more readily think her a courtesan than a cook, for she was a dashed attractive woman.

He shifted uneasily in his bed and then winced as his aching limbs protested. She might be Aphrodite herself, but this was no time for dalliance, even if he had been fit for it. He had a job to do and the recent attack had only served to convince him he was getting close. Time to try a different approach. Tomorrow he must arrange for something to be inserted in the papers to announce that a body had been found on the Great North Road near Tuxford. If the snow was as bad there as Nancy had said, it was unlikely anyone would be able to challenge the truth of the notice and whoever was behind the attack on him might believe they had succeeded in removing him.

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.

‘I wish you will tell me why it is dangerous for me to stay here.’ She read his thoughts and blushed. ‘Apart from the obvious, of course.’

‘Is that not reason enough?’

‘I have Hester with me and, in your current state of health, I do not fear you.’

‘I would not have you fear me at all, madam, especially as we are snowbound here for a few more days at least. If you believe nothing else of me, believe I am a gentleman.’ He raised his brows. ‘Why do you look at me like that, do you doubt me?’

‘My experience of gentlemen is that they take what they want of their servants—of any woman—and damn the consequences.’

He frowned. Not at the unladylike language but at the bitterness in her voice. He had not heard that note before and it disturbed him.

‘Not all gentlemen behave like that, Mrs Hopwood,’ he told her. ‘And you are not my servant.’

‘No, indeed.’ She gave a faint smile, her eyes softening, then she seemed to recollect herself and withdrew from him. ‘Since the snow makes it impossible for you to be rid of me for a few days, I had best get on with preparing dinner for this evening.’

She made to rise and he put out a hand to stop her.

‘Not yet. Take a moment to drink your coffee.’ She sank down again and he said, ‘You are an unusual woman, Nancy Hopwood. Tell me about yourself.’

She shrugged. ‘My story is no different from many other respectable women. I have no man to support me—and no wish for one!—and I was fortunate enough to find a position as a cook.’

‘And your employer, he is good man?’

She smiled at that. ‘My employer is not a man at all, it is a charity. I work at a house in the north of England that takes in women who have no other home. There is a small farm attached where we grow what we need and sell any surplus and we all do what we can to support ourselves. Those who are good with their hands make things we can sell, such as knitted purses, or stockings. My passion is cooking, so it was natural I should take over the kitchen.’

‘Then what were you doing in Tuxford?’

‘I have been to London. On business. I was on my way back when I came across you in the wood.’ Her shoulders lifted a fraction. ‘I am not one to ignore any creature in trouble.’

‘Which was fortunate for me.’ He refilled their cups. ‘But how long can this charity spare you?’

‘As long as I am needed here.’ She met his eyes, a challenge in her own. ‘We may differ on how long that will be, but you will admit that while the snow continues I cannot leave.’

And it was safe enough for her to remain. For the moment.

He said: ‘I freely admit that you cannot quit this house today, ma’am, and most likely you will be here tomorrow, too, but you should go as soon as may be. I am going on well enough now. John and I are quite capable of looking after ourselves.’

‘And you will not tell me why you are so eager for me to leave?’

‘Will you believe me if I say I might forget I am a gentleman if you stay here much longer?’

She smiled at that, but shook her head. ‘Of course I will, but that is not the only reason. There is some mystery about you and I wish you would share it with me.’

‘It is best that you do not know, ma’am.’

‘Then I am obliged to conclude you are here upon some unlawful business.’ She sighed and her mouth drooped. ‘I do not wish to think of you as a villain.’

It was his turn to smile.

‘You need not think it, but neither will your gusty sighs persuade me to tell you.’

‘I thought I might as well try.’

She peeped up at him from under her lashes, a roguish look that made him catch his breath as the simmering desire turned to a bolt of pure lust. It required a supreme effort to remain still and keep his countenance impassive.

She finished her coffee. ‘Thank you, sir, for the refreshment and the company. But now I really must get on.’

As she pushed the cup away he reached out and caught her wrist.

‘Will you dine with me again? I think I am well enough to sit in the morning room this evening. We could of course use the dining room but it is large and draughty. Dashed difficult to heat.’

Nancy was shocked at the way her skin reacted to his touch. Darts of electricity shot through her arm, setting her pulse racing. It was as much as she could do not to cry out or pull away.

She said, as calmly as she could, ‘I believe you dined here in the kitchen with Mr Thoresby, prior to our arrival.’

‘Well, yes, but—’

He released her and the disappointment she felt was a further surprise. Alarming, too. He might be a gentleman, he might not mean her any harm, but he was surely dangerous. It was in her own interests to keep him at a distance.

‘Then I suggest we all eat in here together,’ she told him. ‘There is a strong argument in favour of the arrangement, the food will be hotter when it reaches the table.’

‘I have no objection, if that is what you wish.’

She was relieved he had accepted the suggestion so readily. Much as she had enjoyed his company last night, she knew it would be safer to dine with the others. She found Gabriel far too attractive and was in no doubt that it would be all too easy to succumb to his charm. Heaven forbid he should realise the effect he had on her. Now she threw him a pitying look.

‘I am the cook, Mr Shaw. I am quite accustomed to eating at the kitchen table.’

‘Who is eating at the kitchen table?’ Hester came in, carrying the plucked chicken and bringing with her a blast of cold air.

‘Everyone,’ Nancy replied. ‘It will be more convenient for us all to eat together.’

‘Oh, no, madam, we cannot do that.’ Hester stopped in her tracks. ‘You are a lady, Miss Nancy, even if you have fallen on hard times. You will dine in the morning room with Mr Shaw.’

Nancy gave a little tut of frustration. ‘It is not seemly for us to dine alone.’

‘It is seemlier than you both sitting in the kitchen,’ Hester retorted. She stomped into the larder to deposit the chicken, saying when she returned, ‘And from what I’ve seen of this gentleman, I don’t believe you’ll come to any harm.’

Gabriel beamed at her. ‘Thank you, Mrs Yelland.’

‘You may be right about this...gentleman.’ Nancy threw him a scorching look. ‘However, it will be a lot less work for everyone if we all eat together. And you won’t need to carry the food through those draughty passages!’

But Hester was not to be moved. She folded her arms.

‘If you won’t think of yourself, madam, think of Mr Thoresby and William. It’ll quite put them off their dinner, to have to eat it in your presence.’

‘But we dined together when we arrived here,’ Nancy protested.

‘That was from necessity. What with Mr Shaw at death’s door and the rest of the house unheated and unprepared, there was only the kitchen fit to use. But now everything’s different. We will all be much happier if the two of you are dining elsewhere and we can get on with our own meal in peace.’

Gabriel gave a little cough. ‘You would not wish to make the others uncomfortable, Mrs Hopwood.’

‘No, of course not, but since I shall be preparing the meal—’

Hester interrupted her. ‘We managed yesterday and we shall do the same this evening. I am sure Mr Shaw will agree that you work hard enough as it is. The least we can do is to see to it that you enjoy your dinner.’

Nancy stared at her in silence, frustration bringing an angry colour to her cheeks.

Gabriel rose from the table, chuckling. ‘And you said I did not like having my will crossed. I shall leave you now, but I look forward to joining you for dinner later, Mrs Hopwood. In the morning room!’

Nancy watched him walk out and it was as much as she could do not to pick up something from the table and hurl it at the door.

‘Of all the arrogant, high-handed—’

‘Very much like yourself,’ Hester commented. ‘Come along now, Miss Nancy, there’s no time for a tantrum. We must get a move on or we will be eating dinner at midnight.’

Nancy returned to her cooking, muttering to herself, but gradually the discipline of preparing the meal soothed away her anger and by the time she went up to her room to change for dinner she was resigned to her fate. She put on the blue silk again, knowing it was the only evening gown that was decorous enough for a poor and modest widow.

* * *

Gabriel was just coming out of his room opposite her own as she stepped out on to the landing. With a bow he offered her his arm. She hesitated, still angry with him for not supporting her decision to eat in the kitchen.

‘It is not gallantry,’ he informed her. ‘I am still unsteady and I need your assistance to descend these stairs.’

A laugh bubbled up, dispelling her anger.

‘You are a complete rogue,’ she scolded, placing her fingers on his sleeve.

‘Unfair, ma’am, when you yourself say I am not yet fully recovered.’

‘I was wrong. You are much improved, although I am relieved to see you are using the handrail.’

They reached the hall and she withdrew her hand and preceded him into the morning room, where the shutters had been closed and the fire was burning merrily. The small dining table was already set for dinner and Gabriel stepped forward to hold her chair.

‘If you are afraid for your virtue, we could always leave the door open,’ he suggested.

‘And lose the benefit of the fire? No, I thank you.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I will risk being alone with you.’

It was no hardship, she thought, as they settled down to their meal. Gabriel was good company. He was intelligent, his conversation was both witty and entertaining and she soon relaxed and began to enjoy herself. She had forgotten to put the muslin fichu about her neck, but there was nothing in Gabriel’s manner to cause her alarm. His eyes did not linger on her breasts, nor did he try to flirt with her. They talked companionably about various subjects with the ease of old friends, and the evening sped by. When the long-case clock in the hall chimed the hour, she exclaimed in surprise.

‘Is that the time already? I had no idea it was so late.’

‘Eleven o’clock cannot be considered late, ma’am.’

‘It is for an invalid such as yourself. You need to rest.’ She rose, but waved to him to remain in his seat. ‘Pray do not get up.’ She walked to the side table to collect a decanter and a glass and bring it to him. ‘There, I will leave you with your brandy and bid you goodnight, Mr Shaw.’

When he reached for her hand she gave it to him without thinking. He pressed a kiss upon her fingers and let her go. A friendly gesture, she told herself. Nothing more.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Hopwood.’

‘Mr Shaw.’

Oh, how she wanted to stay! Her whole being protested as she turned away from him and her spine tingled with the knowledge that he was watching her. He would not object, she was sure, if she remained to drink another glass of wine with him, but then what? There was only one way the evening would end if she showed such a preference for his company. And though her body might cry out for relief from the longing that disturbed her nights, Gabriel Shaw was too charming, too attractive, and she feared she might grow too attached to him. She would not risk her heart for a moment’s pleasure. She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her, and kept walking until she had reached the safety of her bedchamber, where she resolutely turned the key in the lock.

* * *

Gabriel watched Nancy leave the room. She was a tall woman and built on queenly lines, but she moved with an almost liquid grace that made him long to see her in a ballroom. He poured himself a measure of brandy and sipped it, his mind filled with the agreeable image of Nancy gliding across the dance floor, the skirts of her gown shimmering in the candlelight as they swayed about her hips.

A line of poetry came into his head and he murmured it aloud.

‘“How sweetly flows that liquefaction of her clothes!” Who wrote that? Herrick, of course.’ He bethought him of another line from Herrick, this time writing of Julia’s breasts.

Between whose glories there my lips I’ll lay.

With something that was almost a growl he shook off his reverie.

‘Confound it, such thoughts will do me no good at all!’

Finishing his brandy, he pushed himself to his feet and made for the door.

* * *

Nancy lay in her bed, her head, her whole body buzzing. She was not in the least sleepy and wished she had been able to stay talking with Gabriel into the early hours. It had been years since she had enjoyed a man’s company so much and the thought set alarm bells ringing. He roused in her a longing for more than just conversation. She wanted to touch him, to feel his arms about her. To assuage the terrible loneliness that she had barely acknowledged until now. Over the years she had learned to protect herself where men were concerned. A single woman could not afford the luxury of letting down her guard. Only once had she lost her heart and she knew the pain of loving a man who could never be hers. She would not risk that again.

She tensed, clenching her hands at her sides. She had her work and her friends at Prospect House, was that not enough? The traitorous voice inside told her no. She wanted a man’s touch, a man’s kiss. But it was not just the physical need that alarmed her. She felt, nay, she was certain, that if circumstances had been different, Gabriel Shaw could have been a friend. Someone to laugh with, to share jokes. To share worries.

Impatiently she rolled on to her side. Heavens, what was happening to her? She was far too old for such a foolish infatuation. But when she was with Gabriel she felt giddy and reckless, ready to throw her cap over the windmill. With a sigh she sat up and turned her pillow. Oh, this would never do. Her friends at Prospect House relied upon her for her good sense and here she was behaving like a schoolgirl, losing her head over an attractive man about whom she knew nothing. Less than nothing.

She remembered her father’s housekeeper, Mrs Crauford, saying ‘Handsome is as handsome does’ and she must keep that in mind, because Gabriel was most definitely handsome. She felt a sigh building and fought it back, determined to be sensible. If Gabriel had indeed been left to perish by his enemies it might make him a victim, but it did not mean he was a good or an honest man. That remained to be seen.

She settled down again, snuggling her hand against her cheek. Relaxed and warm within the comfort of her bed and with the door securely locked, she allowed her thoughts to wander freely. There was no denying Gabriel was very attractive, with his dark hair and charming smile, and those eyes... She took a moment to consider his eyes. They were as blue as the borage flowers she used to decorate her salads and when he looked at her, just so, it felt as if his glance was piercing her very soul. Yes, even with the fading remains of that bruise upon his cheek he was handsome enough to turn a girl’s head. Lucky then, she thought sleepily, that she was no longer a girl...

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.

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