by Marie Force
“What’re you doing?” she said in a whisper that more resembled a hiss.
“I brought you cake.” You sound like an idiot.
She looked around him to make sure no one else was nearby to witness the conversation. “I already had cake. After dinner.”
“Does that mean you can’t have more?”
“It’s inappropriate for you to be here.”
“I know, but there was one piece of cake left, and I wanted you to have it.” He held out the plate to her.
She took it from him. “Thank you.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Nelson.”
“Aubrey.”
“Good night, Mr. Nelson.”
He smiled at her and forced himself to walk away before he did something stupid like reach out to touch her glorious hair to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Chapter Six
He’d brought her cake.
Maeve closed the door, leaned against it and looked down upon the plate, trying to understand why he had taken such a risk, knowing full well that Mr. Plumber might see him visiting her room at night.
She took a bite of the cake and closed her eyes.
So moist and sweet.
Mrs. Allston was a wonderful cook.
And Mr. Nelson was a wonderful employer to bring her something he knew she’d enjoy.
She sat on her bed, curling her legs beneath her, intent on enjoying every bite of her second piece of the delicious cake.
He had kept his distance since the day they’d picnicked at the shore, and though she appreciated that he had heeded her concerns, she found herself missing him, which was ridiculous. How could she miss someone she barely knew whom she saw every day? She caught him watching her at least once a day, often more than once, but they hadn’t spoken about anything other than the house in days.
She missed the conversations they’d had, about their families and their homes. And yes, she missed his obvious interest in her as a woman.
There. She’d admitted it. As much as she’d feared what his attentions could lead to, she’d also been flattered to have gained the favor of such a handsome, kind man.
She took the last bite of cake, put the plate on the bedside table and released a deep breath full of regret. Why couldn’t she have met him under different circumstances? Because life wasn’t fair. She’d known that for some time now, but that didn’t stop her from wishing things could be different.
Maeve eyed the dirty plate on the table and decided to take it downstairs to the kitchen, lest she attract vermin. Or that’s what she told herself anyway. What she really wanted was another chance to see him, to speak to him, to breathe the same air as him.
Foolish thoughts, perhaps, but the need was too great to resist. Tightening the belt of her robe and wearing slippers, she left her room, started down the two flights of stairs and landed in the kitchen, which was dark except for one small light burning over the stove. Her home in Ireland had also had electricity. In fact, it had been among the first homes in Ireland to have electricity and indoor plumbing, so she’d been accustomed to both before she came to live in this house.
As she entered the kitchen, she stopped short at the sight of Mr. Nelson sitting alone at the table eating his cake. A bottle of amber liquid and a glass were also on the table.
He seemed equally surprised to see her, his fork freezing in midair.
For the longest time, neither of them moved until he cleared his throat and put down his fork.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said.
“You’re not. How was the cake?”
“Delicious. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” As he said those words, his gaze traveled from her face to her chest and below, while his jaw clenched with tension.
She felt as if she’d been set on fire, and all he’d done was look at her. Forcing herself to move, she went to the sink and washed the plate and fork, placing them on the rack that contained several clean pots and pans. Using the towel that had hung over the sink, she wiped her hands and spread the towel out to dry.
With nothing else to do, she summoned the core of inner strength that had guided her to this place, far from her home, and turned to find him watching her with those eyes that saw her so clearly.
“Can you sit for a minute?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Who will know?”
“Mr. Plumber could come downstairs.”
“And what would he see? Two people sitting across from each other at a table.”
Using his foot under the table, he pushed a chair toward her.
She eyed the chair, wondering what she was thinking as she perched gingerly on the seat.
He got up, fetched a second glass and returned to the table to pour several fingers of the amber liquid into the glass, pushing it across the table to her.
Maeve licked her lips and reached for the glass, glancing at him to find him watching her with fire in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her the way Mr. Nelson did, and while it was unsettling and concerning, it was also deeply flattering to fully understand the depth of his desire for her.
“Your hair is so very lovely.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip of the familiar liquid and felt the whiskey burn its way through her, warming her from the inside.
“The color defies description. Calling it red or brown wouldn’t be adequate.”
“My mother used to call it liquid fire.”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “That’s it exactly. I’ve never seen that particular color before.”
“I used to hate it when I was younger, but I’ve grown used to it.”
“You must never hate something so beautiful.”
“You flatter me, Mr. Nelson.”
“You occupy my every thought, Miss Brown.”
She choked on the sip of whiskey she was taking when he said the provocative words.
He jumped up and came around the table to pat her back while she coughed and wheezed until she finally regained her breath.
“Are you all right?”
Mortified, she nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You mustn’t say such things.”
Keeping his hand on her shoulder, he sat in the chair next to hers. “I only speak the truth.”
“It cannot be,” she said softly.
“We’re both consenting adults who find ourselves in a difficult situation, but I’ve never been one to back down from difficulties. If anything, they bring out my competitive spirit.”
“You have nothing to lose. I have everything to lose.”
“I would make sure you lost nothing.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I would take care of you always if you would only let me.”
She shook her head. “You can’t promise such things.”
“I can.”
“No, you can’t. Your family—”
“Is very important to me, but they don’t dictate how I live my life.”
She knew she ought to withdraw her hand from his but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “They would never understand this.”
“They don’t have to. The only ones who need to understand are the two of us.”
“You say that now, but when you’re ostracized from polite society—”
“You’d be doing me a favor. I abhor polite society.”
“Your friends, the duke and duchess—”
“Will adore you. They are so very, very happy together, and one of the last things Her Grace said to me before I departed London was that she hoped I one day found someone who made me as happy as her husband has made her.”
Maeve looked down at the floor, wishing she had the fortitude to resist the overpowering desire he aroused in her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You make me feel weak.”
Taken aback by that, he said, “I do?”
She nodded. “I like to think I’m a strong, independent woman, but
when you look at me the way you do, I’m no longer strong. I’m weak and powerless.”
“You, my dear, have all the power here.”
“No, sir. You do. I’m nothing but a lowly housekeeper.”
“You’re so much more than that to me.” His gaze fixated on her mouth, and she knew that if she stayed there, he would kiss her, and she would let him.
She stood abruptly, withdrawing her hand and wrapping her arms around herself. “Good night, Mr. Nelson.”
“Aubrey,” he said with a small, sad smile that let her know he too wished things could be different.
“Mr. Nelson,” she said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.
She turned and left the room. Making her way upstairs, her legs felt wobbly and uncertain beneath her. It occurred to her halfway up the stairs that Mr. Nelson presented an even greater risk to her than the man she’d fled in Ireland. That man had been a danger to her physical self. Mr. Nelson had the power to break her heart into a million pieces that could never be put back together again.
* * *
In the morning, Aubrey received a telephone call from his mother. As the line crackled with static, he wished he couldn’t hear her as clearly as he did.
“Yes, Mother, the house will be ready for your arrival and that of the duke and duchess. Miss Brown, the housekeeper, has done a spectacular job.”
“That is a relief.”
“How’s Father?”
“He’s had a difficult few days but seems better today. We’re seeing another specialist tomorrow.”
“Will he be strong enough to make the trip to Newport?”
“We’re hoping so, but he’ll need to rest.”
“The salt air and sunshine will do him good.”
“That is the hope. I won’t keep you, Aubrey. I just wanted to check on you.”
“There’re things we must discuss when you arrive.”
“What things?”
“It’ll keep until you’re here.”
“Very well. I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Good-bye, Mother.”
Aubrey ended the call with a sinking feeling. Four more days until his mother, sisters and their children would arrive and take over the house. He experienced a growing sense of desperation at the thought of so many people around to witness his tender feelings for Miss Brown.
After their late-night conversation, he had passed another sleepless night trying to think of a solution to his “problem” with Miss Brown.
Maeve.
He liked to say her name out loud, to think about her, to imagine what might be possible if only they could find a way. If he hadn’t invited Derek, Catherine and the others to spend the summer in Newport, he would’ve been tempted to run away in the night with her and never look back.
Thanks to the unprecedented success of the company, he had resources of his own that would keep them comfortable for the rest of their days. They could go west, maybe to California. He’d heard so many interesting things about the far western state and had wanted to visit for quite some time. They could find a home there where no one knew them and start a whole new life.
Even the idea of never seeing his beloved siblings, nieces and nephews again wouldn’t stop Aubrey from stealing away with her. She would be enough. He knew it in the deepest part of him. But with his friends having already left on the transatlantic crossing, it was too late now to change the plans.
Not to mention, his mother would have an apoplexy if he suddenly uninvited the duke and duchess.
Since leaving London just over a year ago, he’d looked forward to this summer with his friends, and now . . . Now, he couldn’t care less about their plans. He wanted only to find a way to be with the woman who had captivated him, body and soul. Perhaps Derek, Simon and Justin would have some advice that would help him to see a way forward with Maeve.
At the moment, he saw no such path, and despair overwhelmed him.
He was unaccustomed to problems that couldn’t be solved in one way or another, and the pain of his dilemma had him eyeing the whiskey decanter before luncheon. While he despaired, she kept her distance, continuing to supervise the ragtag army that appeared in greater numbers every day, making it no longer necessary for Aubrey to lend a hand.
She didn’t need his help and that only added to the growing ache inside him.
A knock on the door diverted his attention.
“Enter,” he said, relieved to have the interruption. Anything to give him something else to think about.
Mr. Plumber stepped into the library where Aubrey had holed up. “There’s a man at the front door demanding to speak with you, sir.”
“What is his business?”
“He refused to say, sir.”
“Show him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Plumber left the room and Aubrey stood, came around the desk and prepared to meet his visitor.
The man, dressed all in black and sporting the muttonchops that had become fashionable in recent years, held his hat in hand as he came into the room, escorted by the butler.
“A Mr. Tornquist to see you, Mr. Nelson.”
“Thank you, Mr. Plumber.”
Mr. Plumber nodded and closed the door to leave the two men alone.
Aubrey shook the man’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for someone.”
Right away, Aubrey noticed the man’s Irish accent and felt his hackles go up.
“I have followed her trail to Newport but have been unable to locate her and wondered if you have any information about her whereabouts.”
“Who is it you’re seeking?”
“Her name is Maeve Sullivan, but we have reason to believe she may be living under an assumed name.”
Aubrey forced himself to show no reaction. “Do you have a photograph?”
“I do.” He withdrew the sepia-toned photo from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over to Aubrey.
He looked down at the image of a younger version of Miss Brown and took a perfunctory glance before handing it back to Mr. Tornquist. “I don’t know this woman.”
“If I asked the others in your employ if they know her, would their answers be the same as yours?”
“They would.”
“Very well.” Mr. Tornquist returned the photo to his inside pocket.
“Can you tell me why it is you’re looking for her?”
“She is accused of a serious crime in Ireland, and I’ve been hired by the victim’s family to bring her back to face charges.”
Panic gripped his heart. “What serious crime is she accused of?”
“Murder.”
Aubrey felt as if he’d been punched. Maeve had murdered someone? He couldn’t for the life of him imagine that, no matter how hard he tried. But before he could do anything else, his first order of business was getting rid of Mr. Tornquist.
“I’m sorry that we’re unable to assist in your search,” Aubrey said, while praying to God that Miss Brown would remain upstairs and out of sight until the man was long gone.
“If you hear anything about her whereabouts, I would appreciate the information. I’m staying at the Marlborough Inn.”
Aubrey nodded and showed Mr. Tornquist out of the library, holding his breath as they crossed the foyer to the main door. He didn’t release the breath until the man was out the door and back on his horse heading down the driveway.
As soon as Mr. Tornquist exited the property through the front gates, Aubrey bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to get to her.
“Miss Brown!” Aubrey yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping to be heard over the din of workers talking as they carried out their duties. “Miss Brown!”
He encountered one of the ragtags, a Mr. Tanner. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw, she was in the water closet.” The man had two teeth and a ruddy, sun-browned complexion.
Aubrey went to the water closet at the end of the hallway and
pounded on the door. “Miss Brown!”
After a full minute had passed, the door opened to a visibly annoyed Maeve. “Whatever is it that has you bellowing, Mr. Nelson?”
What did it say about his state of mind that he found her extraordinary, even when she was annoyed with him and accused of murder? “Come.” He took her by hand and half dragged her toward his bedroom where they could speak in private.
She fought back. “Mr. Nelson!”
“Not another word, Miss Brown.” The harsh words shocked her into silence. He pushed her into the room and closed the door behind them.
“How could you do this? The men will talk.”
“They won’t say a word if they wish to continue working here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I would like to ask you the same thing, and I would caution you to tell me the truth, Miss Brown, or is it Miss Sullivan?” Only because he was watching her so closely did he see the color leach from her face and her knees go liquid beneath her. He lunged for her and caught her when she would’ve fallen.
“Wh-why did you call me that?”
“Is it not your name?”
“H-how do you know that?”
Keeping his tight hold on her, he sat in one of the upholstered chairs, setting her on his lap. That she didn’t fight him in any way indicated her profound shock. “A man was here. A Mr. Tornquist. He was looking for a woman named Maeve Sullivan and had a photograph of you.”
“Oh God. Oh no. Oh no.”
To his great dismay, she began to cry. His magnificent Miss Brown didn’t cry, and he couldn’t bear to see her in such a state.
“Tell me.” He gently brushed away her tears with his fingertips, delighted to discover her skin was as soft as it looked.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You must. How am I to keep you safe if I don’t know what’s happened.”
“It’s not up to you to keep me safe.” All at once she seemed to realize where she was sitting and started to get up. “I’ll leave at once.”
He stopped her by tightening his arms around her. “No, you’ll stay right here with me, and we’ll figure this out together.”
“It’s not your concern.”