by Eva Shepherd
She disappeared into the adjoining room and he was tormented by the sound of rustling fabric as she discarded her clothing. He tried hard not to listen. He tried not to think about her slowly peeling away the layers of clothing that kept her body from his appraising gaze. Fought not to remember what she looked like in her thin, near-translucent nightdress. He absolutely must not think of that. He tried to divert his mind with other thoughts—of those thugs and their rock-hard fists pummelling him, of the pain that was consuming every inch of his body, of his shocking, bruised face when the valet showed him his reflection in the shaving mirror—anything so he wouldn’t think of that lovely woman and her even lovelier curves.
She emerged from behind the door. Was he relieved to see she was wearing a thick dressing gown or disappointed? Relieved, surely. But her hair was now released from its restricting clips and hung down her back in a long, thick plait. Why did women go to so much trouble over their hair when seeing it hanging free was so much more attractive?
‘Well, I need to get some sleep, I’ve got another busy day tomorrow and I’m sure the more rest you get the quicker you’ll heal.’ With that she extinguished the lamp and plunged them into darkness. But that did not extinguish his thoughts or his senses. In the silence he heard the bedclothes being pulled back and the sound of her climbing into bed. She had said he needed rest, but with her lying so close, yet so far away, for him sleep seemed an impossible dream.
Chapter Twelve
Dominic woke the next day after an all-but-sleepless night. He had lain awake in agony for hours and it wasn’t just due to his beaten body. Listening to Nellie’s soft breathing as she slept had been pure torture. The darkness of the room prevented him from seeing her sleeping body, but he still couldn’t shake the image of her lying in her bed, dressed only in her thin muslin nightgown. He was tormented by the memory of those luscious, tempting curves, that soft white skin, those shining green eyes, those full, sensual lips.
Lying awake, he came to a firm decision. He could not spend another day in this room and certainly not another night. It was more than any man should be expected to endure. Even if he did have a broken rib, even if it did pierce his lung or cause other life-threatening damage, he could not stay in this room. He could not endure another night of such torture. He had to leave.
A little later in the morning she rose from the bed and he had one fleeting vision of her in her nightgown before she covered up her body with her dressing gown. Quietly she took some clothes from the wardrobe and carried them through to the other room. It seemed she was sensibly not going to get ready for the day in the same room as him. Shame washed through him at the memory of how he had watched her at her toilette yesterday morning. And despite that shame he knew he would be incapable of not watching her again. Fortunately, she was taking the precaution of avoiding his predatory eye.
If he needed any more convincing that it was time he left, his despicable desire to watch this young woman who had offered her home to him, given up her bed for him and shown him such kindness, would provide it.
She emerged from behind the door, fully dressed and ready for her working day. A war of relief and disappointment raged within him. Relief that his self-control would not be tested once again, but disappointment that he was not to get one last look at her in her nightgown, her long red hair flowing freely down her back.
Despite fighting to keep those two reactions under control, he still couldn’t help but notice how stunning she looked. Dressed in a plain brown outfit she was still a vision. She couldn’t look more elegant, even if she was wearing an expensive gown and dripping with priceless gems.
She smiled at him, a smile as bright and welcome as the sun emerging from behind clouds. Her smile should have given him pleasure, but it only intensified his disappointment. This would be the last time he would be greeted in the morning by that glorious smile.
He sat up in the bed. Despite his injuries he forced his face to not register the pain that shot through him. ‘I’m feeling much better this morning. It must have been because I had a good night’s sleep.’ Liar. ‘There’s no pain at all now.’ Liar, liar. ‘I believe it is time I returned home.’
Her smile quivered slightly, then returned just as bright, if perhaps a little forced. ‘Oh, that is good news. I’m so pleased you’re on the mend.’ Her voice sounded strained. Was she also disappointed? Surely not. She must be looking forward to getting her life back and her rooms to herself.
‘I’ll make you some breakfast before you go.’
He shook his head. The sooner he left the better. Even sharing breakfast with this enchanting woman seemed a greater intimacy than he could bear. ‘No, I don’t wish to impose on you any longer.’
I don’t want to impose my inappropriate desires on you.
‘I’ll eat when I get home.’
She looked towards the other room. ‘It’s no problem. Your valet brought plenty of food and it will only take me a few seconds to put something together.’
‘Please, don’t trouble yourself,’ he said more harshly than he intended.
She looked back at him, her face registering her surprise at his tone.
‘I’m sorry, but I’ve imposed on your hospitality long enough and I want to get home as soon as possible.’ He forced himself to smile, to show he was not being insulting. ‘I’ve been away from home for far too long. My sisters must be starting to wonder about my absence. I don’t want to worry them.’ Finally, he was telling the truth.
‘Oh, yes, right.’ She bit her lip lightly. ‘I’ll go and fetch your valet so he can organise your carriage to take you home.’
‘There’s no need. I can get a cab.’ Dominic wanted to end this torture as soon as possible and there was always the danger that between the two of them, Burgess and Miss Regan, they would decide what was best for his health and make him stay. Although if either could see into his mind both would be horrified and would insist that he leave these rooms immediately.
‘It’s no imposition. I’m happy to do it,’ she said quietly.
He was being a cad. She was only trying to help and he was snapping at her, all because of this absurd attraction, this almost overwhelming desire for her. Regret at his harsh tone joined the war of emotions raging within him.
‘Thank you, Miss Regan,’ he said, keeping his voice as even as possible. ‘But I’ll just get dressed and then I’ll hail a cab.’
She remained standing in the middle of the room, then her cheeks turned that delightful shade of pink. ‘Oh, yes, right. I’ll give you some privacy, shall I, so you can get dressed?’ She turned and rushed out of the room.
Dominic slowly moved to the side of the bed and swung his legs to the floor. He paused with his hands on the edge to take a few steadying breaths, than heaved himself into an upright position. Wincing with pain, he picked up the neatly folded clean shirt, the trousers and jacket his valet had left him. Slowly he pulled off his nightshirt, eased on his shirt over his battered body and pulled on his trousers and jacket. He clipped on his collar and tied his cravat around his neck and looked at himself in Nellie’s small mirror.
The abomination he saw before him was a shock. His eyes were red and swollen, his face a range of colours, from black and blue to shades of green and yellow. He smiled ruefully at his reflection. He might have had to fight to resist the abundant charms of Miss Regan, but looking as he did he doubted it would have required any effort on her part to resist him. If anything, it was amazing she could bear to look at him.
Fully dressed, it was time for him to leave. He looked around the room as if committing every inch of it to his memory. He would never see this delightful room again. It was small, it was humble, but like Nellie Regan herself it was cheerful and welcoming. He looked back at the unmade bed, at the hand-stitched patchwork quilt that had covered him for the last two days. He ran his hand across the embroidered cushion on her armchair where
she had kindly spent the first night while he had selfishly taken her bed. He stroked the fine lace cover on her washstand. Opening a bottle of perfume, he closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of roses. It was Nellie’s scent, a scent that was on the bedclothes, a scent that had tormented him as he had tried to sleep. He was tempted to slip the bottle into his pocket so he would have a lasting reminder of her.
Realising what he was doing, he quickly screwed the lid back on the bottle and replaced it on the washstand. The beating he had received had not only caused swelling and bruising, it had obviously caused some damage to his brain. It was making him behave in a foolish, sentimental manner. The sooner he left and returned to his real life the better.
Slowly he walked down the stairs, being careful not to cause any more damage to his battered body. As he neared the last few steps, he forced his pace to increase, dragged his body into an upright position and removed all expression from his face. He did not want to betray that he was still in pain. It was essential to look completely recovered so Miss Regan would not argue that he should stay. It was an argument that he was unsure he might not allow himself to lose.
He entered the shop and the gasps from Nellie’s two assistants reminded him of just how terrible he looked. They continued to stare at him in wide-eyed shock as Miss Regan rushed over to him.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘You don’t look too good. You’ve gone quite pale. Well, you’re black and blue, but under that you’re pale.’
He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I’m fine. I’m sure I look much worse than I feel. It’s time I returned home.’ His voice came out more clipped than he intended as he fought not to wince in reaction to the pain that was racking his body.
‘Well, I’ll walk with you to the end of the street where you should be able to hail a hansom cab.’
She held out her arm for him to take, as if he were an invalid, and smiled up at him. Dominic hesitated. The desire to touch this lovely young woman one last time was all but overwhelming. It was a desire that he should not be feeling for so many reasons. He was an engaged man. He was going to marry another woman. And until he had met Nellie Regan that was a situation that he was completely satisfied with. It was exactly what he wanted. But spending two nights and days with this lovely woman had made him question whether it was indeed what he wanted.
He drew in a deep breath. Another good reason why he had to leave, right now. Once he left this place he would once again see that he had exactly what he wanted. He would remember all the reasons why marrying Cecily Hardgrave was the right thing to do. The only reason he was questioning it now was because during the time he had spent with Nellie Regan in that small room an unexpected intimacy had developed between them, one that would never happen under usual circumstances. They were from different worlds and now he was returning to his real life and leaving her to her own world.
Her smile started to quiver as he continued to hesitate. He was being unforgivably rude. He took her arm. ‘I can walk unaccompanied, you know, but thank you,’ he said, his words once again clipped.
He opened the door for her and they walked down the street, arm in arm, to the busy intersection. The first cab he hailed stopped and once again that sense of disappointment descended on him.
‘Thank you for everything you’ve done, Miss Regan,’ he said as he opened the cab door. ‘You’ve been most kind.’
And I’ve repaid your kindness by having inappropriate thoughts, unacceptable desires.
‘You have nothing to thank me for. And I’ve already told you I’m not kind at all.’ She smiled to show she was teasing.
Dominic remained staring down at her, his hand on the cab door, as if incapable of leaving.
‘And will you still be available to style my sister’s hair?’
She smiled and nodded. ‘As I said, it’s the least I can do after all that I’ve put you through.’
He declined to remind her once again that it hadn’t been her fault that he had ended up black and blue. And the torment she had put him through was all of his own making. It certainly wasn’t her fault that she was beautiful, charming and enticing.
He coughed lightly to drive out that thought. ‘Thank you. And I know how much you resent being treated as a servant.’
‘Well, I...’
He waved away her protests. ‘You can be assured you will not be treated as a servant when you come to Lockhart Estate. You will be given the respect you deserve as a businesswoman. And everyone in the household will be made aware of that fact.’
‘You don’t need to go to that much trouble, really.’
‘Yes, I do and it’s not trouble. You will be well compensated for your time. I will arrange for first-class train tickets to be sent to you and for transport to and from the station. The coachman will be instructed to take you back to the station whenever you require. I hope that will be satisfactory.’
‘More than satisfactory.’
He remained standing at the cab door. There was nothing more to say, except goodbye, but that simple word would not come.
The impatient horse snorted. ‘Ready when you are, guvnor,’ the driver said.
Dominic had no choice. It was time to leave. ‘Goodbye, Miss Regan,’ he said quietly.
‘Goodbye, Mr Lockhart.’ She sent him a surprisingly shy smile.
He climbed into the cab and shut the door. As he drove off through the busy London street a heaviness settled on him, as if he had lost something that he would never find again.
Chapter Thirteen
Lockhart Estate was even grander than Nellie had expected. Mr Lockhart’s Belgravia town house had stated loud and clear that he was a man of wealth, but this magnificent three-storey mansion, surrounded by sweeping lawns adorned with fountains and statues, clearly showed that he was every bit as wealthy as the aristocracy he so blatantly wanted to join.
The carriage drove up the long, tree-lined drive, through the ornate gold and black wrought-iron gates and past the formal garden in front of the house. Nellie fought hard not to be overawed by the grandeur. But she was fighting a losing battle. How could she not be overawed by such splendid surroundings? How could she not wonder what he thought of her humble little rooms above her shop and parlour?
If Nellie still harboured any foolish illusions about herself and Mr Lockhart, this house had swept them all away. Even fantasising that a man who lived in such a place could ever mean anything to her was so ludicrous it was laughable. This was his world and it was as far removed from Nellie’s small business and two-room living quarters as it was possible to get.
He had the wealth. Now all he needed was the position in society, and Lady Cecily would provide that. He might have shown a spark of interest in a former servant with a small but growing business, when he was recovering in her rooms, but that’s all it ever would be, a tiny spark of interest that would never ignite into a bigger flame.
The carriage pulled up in front of the grand entrance. Nellie looked up at the imposing façade containing so many arched windows it seemed impossible to count them all. The house was big enough to accommodate all the families in her neighbourhood, with plenty of room to spare.
She lowered her head and remained frozen in her seat. She was going to stay in this home that was nothing short of a mansion. She had visited other stately homes when she was a lady’s maid, but this time it was different. She was the one who had been invited, not her mistress. She wasn’t going to be sleeping in the servants’ quarters. She was almost, but not quite, a guest.
This was what she wanted. She had made it clear that she was not a servant and would not be treated like one. But perhaps she should have just accepted her place. Perhaps she shouldn’t have tried to be grander, more important than she actually was. Nellie drew in a long, sustaining breath and exhaled slowly. It was too late to turn back now.
Oh, well, Nellie Regan, you’ve made your bed and now you’re going to have to lie in it. At least you’ll be lying in a comfortable, feather bed with silk bedcovers.
She looked away from the splendid house and stared straight ahead. She could do this. She just had to remember to behave herself, for once in her life.
Remember, you’ve already caused enough trouble for Mr Lockhart. So, no insults, no impersonations and no snide comments about the idle rich. You will be polite, courteous and a right little lady at all times.
The footman opened the door and helped her out of the carriage. Nellie forced herself to act as if arriving at the front door of such a stunning stately home was an everyday event for her.
The large, intricately carved wooden doors flew open and a smiling young woman raced down the stairs. ‘Miss Regan?’ she called out as she ran.
When Nellie nodded, the young woman’s smile grew even bigger. ‘I’m Amanda Lockhart. I’m so pleased you could come.’ She clasped both of Nellie’s hands. ‘It’s so good of you to agree to do my hair for tonight’s ball. I couldn’t believe it when Dominic told me, I was so thrilled.’
Still chatting excitedly, she led Nellie up the stairs and through the house. Nellie tried not to stare as they walked through the magnificent entrance hall, with its domed stained-glass roof, pink-marble tiled floors and columns, walls adorned with paintings, and statues, urns and antiques. Nellie gripped the carved wooden banister to steady herself as Miss Lockhart raced her up the marble stairs, then quickly followed her as she all but ran along the long corridor to her room.
She sat down at her dressing table and turned to smile at Nellie. ‘Right, Nellie, shall we start on my hair now, then, if you’ll be so kind, you can help me into my gown.’