The Highborn Housekeeper. Sarah Mallory

      ‘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...