Chapter Four
“N
ormally, Miss Redcake, I am the first person to be obsessed with my position. Redcake’s has been my life since 1884, when your father hired me. I was not particularly qualified for the position, but neither was he qualified to run a retail establishment. We learned together.” He clasped his hands around his teacup. It had rained all morning, and the ensuing dampness would have caused him to light the fire, or at least the stove, in the room, if he hadn’t been woolgathering. He needed the cup’s warmth, but even that didn’t quite quell the fine tremor in his limbs.
“I know all this,” Miss Redcake said, dropping another slice of indifferently frosted cake onto a plate.
Ewan didn’t think he could force a morsel of anything down his dry throat, but he needed to taste the product, so he set down his cup and took the plate. “Why was Douglas Flour our primary supplier and not Bristol Flour?”
“Mr. Hales, kindly finish your earlier thought, about your familial relationship to Lord Fitzwalter,” Matilda said.
He noted her light brown eyes had a mesmerizing hint of silver in them when they caught the light. When he’d first seen her a few years ago, he hadn’t thought her beautiful, though she had always carried herself well. Her more recent severe style suited her looks. Her hairstyle allowed him to see the planes of her face. She would be far more beautiful in middle age than any apple-faced, plump beauty. But he would not be in the Redcakes’ sphere by then. He would be the Earl of Fitzwalter.
“Yes, of course. I do apologize. My parents died young and I went away to school. I had not understood there to be any relations, but as it turns out, my father was merely estranged from his family.”
“Go on.” She took a bite of cake and smiled.
He thought she was pleased by the taste of the cake rather than his words. Following suit, he tried the cake. “It’s fine.”
She nodded. “I’m not sure the grain is quite as delicate, but such an improvement over the adulterated flour.”
He nodded. “Lawrence Douglas, the earl, was my father’s uncle, my great-uncle. I had no idea until very recently.”
“I see.”
“I’m not certain you could, at least not yet. The earl has one daughter and her children, assuming she had a male heir, could not inherit.”
Matilda’s eyes went wide and she set down her plate. “Never tell me you are now the heir to Lord Fitzwalter!”
“That is exactly what I have to tell you.” He set his plate on top of the box.
“How long have you known this, Mr. Hales?”
“It was news to me just this week. I do wish Lord Judah was in town.” He picked up his teacup, cradling it.
She shook her head. “So you can tender your resignation?”
“Can you blame me? I have to take up my duties to the family, now that Lord Ritten is deceased.”
“Undeniably a difficult situation. And you in line for the promotion.” She winced.
“I am sorry for that. I was looking forward to the challenge. Like you, however, I need to do what my family asks, and in this case, they want me in the countryside, running one of the earl’s estates.”
“Good heavens. Have you ever been out of London?”
“No.” He picked up his cake plate again, noting in detached fashion that his fingers shook.
“Terribly indelicate of me, of course, but how long do you think it will be before you have autonomy again?”
He knew she was wondering how long it would be before the present earl shuffled off this mortal coil, as if anyone could really know that. “It hardly matters to the Redcakes. I will be gone from your lives soon enough.”
Matilda swallowed the last morsel of her cake and set down her plate. “Mr. Hales, I do not believe anyone in my family wants you gone from our lives.”
“No?”
“Least of all me.”
He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly at first; she’d spoken in such a low tone. “No?”
She put a hand to her temple, as if answering the question gave her a headache. “You’ve been a great help to me. Your reports are very precise. I know you are the person who prepares them, even if they come from Lord Judah. And you’ve assisted me with this shilling cake disaster. I appreciate anyone who takes me seriously, as it is hard for men to treat a woman so.”
“I see.” He forced a smile. “I’ve worked hard to be an efficient and effective employee.”
“And a rakish man.”
The unexpected comment made him sit straight back in his chair. “What?”
“You’ve cut a swath through the ladies of the tea shop.” Her lips curved. “I have wondered what your secret is, especially given that I’ve only ever attracted one man to me, yet you seem to be catnip to many ladies.”
He could find no words, at first. Especially because she’d said she wanted to be taken seriously. And yet men discussed such things among themselves all the time. “I had no idea I had such a reputation. I courted a young lady downstairs, then Betsy Popham.”
“Then that ended.” She raised her eyebrows.
“She left me. My pride was hurt, and I suppose I had flirtations with a few of the cakies.”
“Were you affianced?”
“No, but I was expecting it.” He winced as he remembered that time. Betsy had never understood how she’d hurt him.
“I am sorry.” She leaned forward and patted his hand.
Her interest kept him speaking. “A number of employees go to the Egyptian Hall for the magic show once a month or so, and to some of the music halls. I suppose I might have paid too much attention to one young lady or another.”
She smiled and patted his hand again.
He took a deep breath. “Really, I should not have gone traipsing through the halls with the common employees, given my position, but I am the youngest of the senior staff and therefore do not have much opportunity to fit in anywhere here.”
“I understand completely. We have that in common, not fitting in.” She lifted her chin, obviously considering. “I expect you are well educated.”
“Not exactly. I went to boarding school but didn’t have the opportunity for further education.”
She released his hand and sat back. “You mixed with a different class of boys there, and that changed you. It matched who you really were, rather than who you were given to believe you were. It must have been confusing.”
“We both were educated above what we thought our positions to be at the time. We expected one thing and received another.”
She nodded, staring directly into his eyes. He liked her directness, but her clear chestnut-brown gaze had begun to stir a different interest in his lower parts. Perhaps his troubles interfered with his work, but he found his thoughts drifting away from Redcake’s and cake flour.
“You say you have only ever attracted one suitor?” he ventured.
She nodded.
“Given the situation, it is not such a surprise,” he said.
She flinched.
“I am sorry, Miss Redcake, but you have to be realistic. It is not that you are unattractive.” Certainly not, given his reaction.
Her frown deepened.
“Quite the opposite,” he assured her. “But you fit in as little as me. If you had the family background most of the cakies do, an illegitimate child would be no great thing.”
She looked nauseated for a moment, then straightened her shoulders. No sheen of tears was present in her eyes. She had backbone, and he liked her all the more for it. He could see her at the helm of an army with that fierce expression: Boudicca leading a battle charge.
“We tried so hard to leave our background behind,” she said. “My father wanted to be a country gentleman. He raised Rose and me to be ladies. But I was so naïve. I made mistakes, and even though the gentleman did eventually wish to marry me, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“No?” He had never heard this part of the story. He set his things down and leaned forward.
“He’d proven himself to be a cad. Also, he was ill, and by then I had Jacob, my son, and the business to learn. I didn’t want to nurse a man who’d treated me so poorly. I was also afraid he’d make me live in India with him.” She shuddered.
“Very trying.”
Hampshire or Lancashire
. At least his options were better than India. He appreciated her strength. Most women would have married the man regardless. Most families would have forced her to do so. Sir Bartley could have deleted the scandal from his family history but put his daughter and business first.
“Yes. So, I am a disgrace, a scandal, but an old one. Jacob is two and a half now. The last three years have gone by so quickly.” She smiled suddenly. He saw dimples in her cheek for the first time. How had he missed those?
“Then you have little time for regrets.”
Her cheeks twitched with an almost-smile. “It is good the time passes fast when one is an old maid.”
His cock didn’t see her as an old maid. “Twenty-four isn’t old.”
“Not to someone who is older,” she teased.
He looked her over again. For the first time, he felt a friendship was brewing with a member of the Redcake family. He didn’t really have friends. It had seemed like he did at school, but when he left, his circle moved on to university while he went to work. His friends rarely responded to his letters. He gave up on those chums who had been so important in boyhood and settled in here at Redcake’s, where he was treated well but didn’t fit in. Now, he’d have a few years isolated on a farm with no social equals, and then, all of a sudden, he’d be meant to take up the reins of an earldom, live in London, and fill his nursery with the children of some aristocratic bride. Someone who would look down on him, probably, for his lack of polish. Then he’d have to enter politics, manage everything. And he’d thought becoming manager of a tea shop was an impressive undertaking.
“Mr. Hales, you are clutching at your tie as if you’re being strangled. Are you well?”
He blinked, releasing his hand from his throat. “I think I may have panicked.”
“Why?” She tilted her head to one side.
“So much change.” He tried to find some understanding in her gaze. “I am not prepared.”
She took his hand again.
Matilda Redcake was a toucher
. “I’m sure you will be fine in time. The earl will guide you, as my father has guided me.”
“He feels like an adversary.”
She squeezed his fingers. “My father does to me as well at times, but I learn. It gets better. You are intelligent, Mr. Hales, and you look the part.”
“I do?”
She considered him. “Yes. You have that tall, tailored, competent look about you, and a very charming smile. With the right clothes, you will make the debutantes swoon.”
“I am going into exile to manage a family estate. Not wife hunting.”
“Oh, you should wife hunt,” she assured him. “Better to secure the family now.”
“You think so?”
She blushed. “What else will you have to do with your time on a family estate except start a family?”
Her earthiness reminded him of Betsy, but she had a charm entirely her own. “That is what you recommend?” He took command of her hand, stroking her fingers. His senses were on full alert.
“I–I didn’t mean—” she stammered. She sat back, but he didn’t release her hand.
“You didn’t mean to flirt with me?” He’d only just started to remember how.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not moving to some rural estate to birth future earls. Even if I wanted to, I’m not a candidate for you. I’m tainted.”
“At least you are honest. I like honest women. I don’t meet enough of them. What is your agenda?”
She attempted to pull her hand away gently, but he held firm. “I just want to fix the flour. We need to go to Douglas Flour and talk to them.”
He tugged at her hand. Her lips parted as she was forced to pull away or stand and move toward him. She chose to stand, to come closer. He pulled her down, feeling her breath on his hair as she tumbled into his lap. This woman didn’t smell like a bakery but like industry. He smelled coal dust in her hair, ink on her fingers, paste and something like carrots on her coat.
Her scent comprised factories and trains and motherhood. But he smelled her, too, an earthy, passionate note underneath. She couldn’t be a wife—at least not his wife—but he wanted her, and it had been so long since he’d wasted time wanting any woman when he couldn’t afford a wife.
She smiled quickly, exposing those dimples again, then stilled. “Really, Mr. Hales.” She leaned forward, biting her plump bottom lip.
“Really, Miss Redcake. Really, you are absolutely stunning.” He traced one of her dimples with his finger, then angled his mouth toward hers.
She inhaled, met him lip to lip. Her warm breath hit him first, tea and frosting and spice. Softness pressed against him, sweet womanly lips. She didn’t seem to know how to kiss, and he hardly remembered how, but it didn’t seem to matter. She moaned softly and tucked her hands between them, pressing against his coat. Her mouth firmed against his and he licked her bottom lip, sucked it between his teeth, then released it so he could swirl his tongue into her mouth. She met him timidly, sweetly, gasping when he pulled back to take a quick breath before securing her cheeks with his fingers, ready to angle his mouth against hers again.
“Oh, no.” She slipped away and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “This shouldn’t have happened. I need to see to the flour.”
“What? Why not?” His intellect had deserted him.
“I can’t trust you. You’re a rake.” She stood in the small space between the chairs, her skirt askew.
“I’m not. I’ve just explained myself.”
She was breathing hard, her color high. “You’re a future earl. We can’t do this. We need to go to the factory. We need to do our work.”
“Your work,” he said, feeling stupid and cranky. “My work is to run this tea shop, the bakery. You’re my vendor.”
She put her hands on her hips. Her hair had loosened from its tight hold. Feathery tendrils laced her temples and forehead. “I thought we were in this together.”