“You are a busy woman, then? You keep your social calendar bursting at its seams, so full you cannot spare a leisurely visit—is that what you would have us believe?”
While his words seemed harmless, an undercurrent of something—sarcasm, perhaps?—made her bristle.
“You may believe whatever you wish. However, your beliefs are not nearer the truth than the massive Egyptian pyramids are to Buckingham Palace. While you are obviously accustomed to rubbing elbows with none save the highest in society, I am of a vastly different station.”
Emmaline remained quiet, almost too quiet, while the rake raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
The heat spreading up her neck had nothing to do with her sunburn. Straightening her shoulders and pulling herself up as high as her frame would allow, Elise furrowed her brows and gave him what she hoped was a suitably stifling glare.
“That’s right.” It rankled that he managed to vex her but now that he had there was nothing else to do besides try to gain control of the situation. “I am a working woman—” Instantly she regretted her choice of words.
Hugh’s eyebrow nearly disappeared beneath the curly black locks falling over his forehead. His lips twitched, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
She looked at Emmaline, whose own brows were obscured by the fringe of tiny curls at the front of her elegant hairstyle.
Correction. Elise knew what
everyone
thought.
“I did not mean…that is, I did not say… I-I only meant—” She stammered to a halt, swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Mortification—was there any feeling more unsettling? Elise did not think there was, especially not in that instant.
To her utter astonishment, he saved her. Chuckling softly, Hugh said, “We understand what you meant, Miss Fulbright.”
She met his gaze. “You do?”
A nod sent an errant lock of hair falling lower on his brow. He swept it back with a careless movement, and then nodded again. This time the curl stayed put. “Of course we do. Isn’t that right, Emmaline? Neither of us thought Miss Fulbright might be a…ahem, a courtesan, did we?”
Was it her imagination, or did Elise see a flash of amusement in the old woman’s eyes? It was hard to tell, the look was so fleeting, but she could swear Emmaline and Hugh shared a secret at her expense.
“Certainly not!” Emmaline scoffed at the notion. “Why, the very idea is laughable. Anyone can see that Elise is not a courtesan merely by looking at her.”
On one hand, she was grateful not to give off the air of tawdriness. On the other hand, an ever-so-slight tremor of disappointment came over her. No woman wanted to be mistaken for a courtesan but their blatant assessment that it was an absolute impossibility chipped at her sense of femininity.
The conversation had gotten completely out of hand. Valuable time slipped away while she concerned herself with hidden meanings and appearances.
“We need to move along,” Elise insisted. “My point was that I, like many other women, do not keep a social calendar. Rather, I work for my living—as a seamstress in a dress shop—so I cannot afford to linger in London when I have work waiting in Essex. So, please, can we get on with whatever agenda you have? The letter stated an explanation would be proffered upon my arrival.” She paused, looking from one face to the other with the hope of gleaning insight. There was none to be found. Both wore stoic expressions, so she continued with a flutter of her right hand over her body. “Well, here I am. I have arrived. My explanation, please?”
Silence reigned for several heartbeats. If their looks had been unreadable before, they were even more so now.
Then, Hugh laughed.
The sound of it, so brash and unexpected, made Elise’s blood run cold. The audacity of the man, to laugh at her.
Emmaline, however, did not seem in the slightest amused. Looking like she had sucked on a bowlful of lemons, she said, “I am old but I am not senile, young lady. I am the one who penned the letter and I remember its contents. There is no need for reminders. While it is glaringly obvious that you do not wish to remain in our company for longer than absolutely necessary, I must inform you that I cannot in all good conscience simply divulge the information I have for you—information I believe will drastically alter your life—with undue haste. No, I have waited many years to come face to face with you, Miss Fulbright. I beseech you to afford me a modicum of indulgence and allow me to tell you the news in my own time.”
A battle brewed inside her head. Her curiosity was piqued, yet who could tell how long this perturbed old woman might require before divulging her secret?
Hoping to broker a compromise, Elise forced a smile to her lips. “I did not mean to sound unduly demanding. I apologize, really, I do. But as I’ve said, I must catch the coach back to Essex this afternoon.”
“That’s impossible.” Hugh had stopped laughing but he made no bones about his amusement.
Under other circumstances, Elise might have thought his grin charming but now she resisted the urge to smack it off his face. Exhaustion was beginning to fray the edges of her nerves and dealing with the enigma was only making things more difficult.
“How can you say it’s impossible?” Elise forced a bland note into her voice. “It is my plan and I intend to stick to it.”
He shook his head, sending a curl tumbling forward yet again. Grinning more broadly, he insisted, “Impossible to stick with that plan, Miss Fulbright. No chance of it, in fact.” He nodded to the mantel. An ormolu clock nestled between matching silver candlesticks. “You see, it’s later than I think you realize. Your coach has departed already.”
A scream of frustration lodged in her throat.
Botheration
. He was correct. If her rapid calculations were accurate, the last day coach was likely several miles beyond the city limits.
“That solves that.” A triumphant look flashed across Emmaline’s face as she stood. Adjusting her cuffs before patting the cameo pinned to her dress, she said, “Now you shall have to stay with us at least until tomorrow. Between dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning, I will tell you what you need to know. Then, my dear, you may decide what you will do with that information. Now, let’s have Henry show you to a guest room. You should rest before dinner. It is sure to be an enlightening meal, isn’t it, Hugh?”
When the older woman rose, he had also risen to his feet. Instinctively, Elise had, too, so now they all stood in a tight circle before the crackling fire. He was close, so near that once again she inhaled the spicy scent of him.
Elise lifted her gaze and stared into the dark brown eyes that studied her. She could get lost in eyes like his. Gold flecked the deep brown irises, captivating her so that when he grinned she grinned back.
“I imagine this evening shall bring a fair number of enlightening moments, Emmaline. Don’t you agree, Miss Fulbright?”
Not trusting her voice, Elise merely nodded her accord. It seemed much safer, and in that moment safe seemed very inviting.
It had happened so quickly that she had no idea how she had become trapped overnight in London. What she did know was that she would never again wonder how a housefly tangled in a spider’s web felt. That, at least, was one thing she had learned during the afternoon.
****
Arguments against staying in the house seemed fruitless so Elise did not even try to resist when Henry led her from the parlor, up a grand staircase and down a long, heavily carpeted hallway. Doors—far too many of them to count while she followed the butler and concentrated on memorizing their route—lined either side of the hallway. All were closed but she wondered how any one home could need so many upper chambers. Were they all bedrooms?
The house in Essex was humble but adequate for three women’s needs. They had never wanted anything grander than their modest home, had never been curious about how “the upper crust” lived. Still, she wished her mother and Louise could see the grandeur surrounding her now. Wouldn’t they be shocked?
Weariness swept fully over her once the door to the beautifully appointed guestroom closed behind her. There would be ample time to poke into the nooks and corners of the space but her first instinct was to drop her reticule beside the small overnight bag she had, thankfully, brought along. They landed with a low thud on the upholstered bench at the foot of the enormous four-poster bed that dominated the room.
With haste, Elise shed her traveling dress, shoes and stockings, pulled the bed coverings aside and crawled beneath them. Her eyes closed instantly and just as quickly she was pulled into sleep, leaving intrigue, travel and thoughts of letter riddles behind her.
The only portion of the day her subconscious brought to her dreams was the dreamy brown eyes of the man she had just met—but who had already captured more fascination than any other man had ever pulled from Elise.
Her dreams were sweet but oh-too short.
Shadows snaked across the room when her eyes opened. It felt like she had only just closed them but she must have slumbered longer than she meant to. A quick look toward the window confirmed her suspicions. Dusk had fallen, leaving daylight far behind.
She sat up, stretching her arms above her head and letting her gaze wander across the room. The furnishings were ornate, with carved wood and overstuffed cushions. Done in a chintz pattern, the rooms made her feel like she sat in a garden rather than a bedroom. Pink cabbage roses wound amidst ferns on the wallpaper and the bed coverings she had been so hasty to flip aside were embroidered in a matching design.
Nothing was run-of-the-mill. The closer she examined what surrounded her, the more Elise realized the fact. Even knick-knacks decorating the scattered side tables had flair. Some were decorated with feathers. Lampshades dripped glass beadwork. The rug’s naturalistic pattern was woven with such vivid shades of green it could have passed for a lawn.
Clearly, Emmaline Byrd did not want for resources.
A soft knock on the door gave Elise barely enough time to clutch the embroidered ecru bed sheet around her upper body before a white-capped head peeked around the slowly opening door.
“May I come in, miss?”
“Certainly.”
The young woman entered and closed the door behind her. She crossed the room, stood beside the bed and bobbed a tiny curtsey. The uniform she wore was so starched her skirts swished as her knees bent.
When she stood and faced her, Elise saw the maid couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. She could not be as old as Louise was, but her carriage and expression was far more mature than the young sibling’s was. Certainly, this young woman never expected tea—or anything else, for that matter—to be furnished for her. One look at the work-reddened hands confirmed the thought.
The maid gazed expectantly in her direction, not staring directly into Elise’s eyes but letting it be known that she waited. For what, Elise had no idea. And, how on earth did one address her? And whatever did she mean to do, coming into Elise’s bedchamber in such a direct manner?
Elise cleared the sleep from her throat. “Ah…”
“Helen, miss.”
“Ah, yes, thank you.” Now what? Gripping the sheet even tighter against her bosom, Elise asked, “What can I do for you, ah, Helen?”
Helen’s expression remained neutral but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “You cannot do anything for me, miss, but thank you all the same. It is quite the opposite. I am here to do for you.”
“Do for me?”
“Of course. Madam sent me to help you wash and dress, miss. First, I shall unpack your bag and set your clothing to rights.” Moving efficiently, Helen went to the bench where Elise had dumped her things. Gripping the modest overnight bag in one hand, the maid cast a shrewd gaze on the nearest spots before looking up. This time her gaze met Elise’s. “Is this it, miss? Just this one teeny-tiny bag?”
“That’s it.”
Chapter 4
None of Elise’s discomfort was lost to Hugh.
He observed her carefully during the dinner hour, noticing how she tried not to let her jaw—and it was such a lovely jaw!—drop every time a new course was brought to the heavily-laden dining table. The way she covertly counted the prongs on the flatware beside her charger nearly made him laugh aloud, it was so guileless and utterly charming. When Emmaline called for course changes with a nonchalant tinkle of the silver bell near her right hand, Elise’s pretty eyes grew as round as their dinner plates.
Obviously, Miss Elise Fulbright was not accustomed to dining on damask. The thought encouraged him, but only slightly. Just because a woman wasn’t in the habit of living large didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to love the status change. No, even women who did not take fine living as their birthright could not be trusted not to become difficult. Sometimes vultures wore evening gowns. Or in this case, navy blue muslin, a shade that complemented the alluring eyes of its wearer with such intensity his heart hammered against his skin every time she looked his way.
Who could tell what this unspoiled creature would become once she learned the truth that had summoned her?
Staring down at his empty plate, Hugh wondered where his beef bourguignon had gone. For that matter, hadn’t there been asparagus tips and some sort of potato on his plate as well?
His gaze lifted, and he caught their new dinner partner staring at him. She colored, the sweetest shade of pale pink rising from the square neckline of her dress. He watched it spread to her delicate throat, then move upward to cover her high cheekbones. Elise did not break eye contact; she seemed as mesmerized as he felt.
Just when he thought he might go mad watching her bloom beside him, she added to his discomfort by licking her lower lip. It was a tiny motion, but it hit him hard—where it counted, which was nowhere near his heart, head or even the stomach where his dinner had somehow mysteriously managed to land. No, he felt the smooth slide of graceful pink tongue over that luscious lip low on his body, almost as if he’d been gloriously touched by the gesture firsthand.
Despite his vow to never again be lured into any woman’s web, Hugh heaved a resigned sigh. This unaffected female was definitely having a huge effect on him. The best he could hope for was to send her on her way as quickly as possible, just so he wouldn’t fall any further to her female allure.