Chapter Five
Berry stared out the window of her upper-floor parlor the following morning and watched Gideon Knight’s men putting in the massive glass doors at the rear of Fiona’s old townhouse that now belonged to him.
He was there with them, his shoulders straining as he worked alongside them, hefting a door into its fitted frame.
She was not certain what to make of him. He was like no man she had ever met before. His thin veneer of polish masked a raw masculinity. She ought to have realized he was polite to her only because he held himself on a tight leash.
She had never heard of dragons ever being restrained by a leash. No, dragons broke free and burned everything in sight when they were angry.
Even when restrained, Gideon Knight lived by a simple rule: Hurt me and I will hurt you harder.
Perhaps this was a code of the streets. She had very little experience with men outside of her social circle, and likely never would while sheltered within the confines of Duchess Square. Here she was shielded from so much of life’s harsh realities.
But he was a product of a harsher upbringing.
The orphanage protected the children they took in, but it wasn’t the same as having loving parents or guardians.
The children had to leave by their fifteenth birthday for boys and sixteenth birthday for girls.
If the orphanage could not place them in apprenticeships or other positions, they were left to fend on their own.
Of course, the orphanage staff did their very best to have every child placed somewhere safe when it came time for them to leave.
Gideon was older than her by five or six years, she estimated. Older by a thousand years when it came to experience. She did not know if he had been one of the boys unable to be placed, for he did not strike her as the sort to take orders from anyone, not even when he was a lad.
Good morning, she mouthed when he looked up after securing the first door in its place.
He smiled and waved back at her. Good morning, he mouthed back, and then returned his attention to the work of putting the second glass door in its frame.
After a full month of hammering and smashing old glass, repairing slate, and replacing massive beams, the silence was disquieting.
Funny how one so quickly forgot how silent this square of homes usually was.
Their street was not a thoroughfare, so no one entered unless they were visiting one of the six homes comprising Duchess Square.
There was a small park in the center that held a few shade trees, several lilac trees, some benches, and an abundance of flowers that her gardener maintained.
Most of the flowers were rose cuttings from her garden, but other flowers had been planted as well, starting with daffodils and irises in the late spring and ending with hollyhocks and sunflowers in autumn.
In between were poppies, lilies, and Italian alkanet that was hardy enough to bloom throughout the summer and was a stunningly vibrant shade of blue.
Mr. Knight finished placing and securing the second door, and then glanced up at her again.
She beckoned him to come over.
Perhaps it wasn’t proper, but who would notice or care? Certainly not her friends, Miranda and Gwendolyn, each of whom occupied a house in the square. As for the owners of the remaining two townhouses, they were not in London at present.
“Mrs. Bolton,” she called, “would you bring a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses onto the terrace? And have Melton take several more pitchers and a dozen glasses next door to Mr. Knight’s workers.”
“Is that wise?” her housekeeper remarked, casting Berry a wry smile.
“And I am not speaking of the neighborly act of bringing over something to those workers to quench their thirst. I am speaking of the man you have just invited over here. Be careful, m’lady.
He is wickedly handsome and appears polite enough, but…
you ought not encourage him. He isn’t quality. ”
“He does not hold a title, nor is he descended from nobility. But this is all he lacks. Were I forced to choose between him and Viscount Hawthorne, I would not hesitate to choose him,” Berry said with finality.
“Then let’s hope you never have to make such a choice, because neither one is suitable for you. But at least with Viscount Hawthorne, you would maintain your good reputation and popularity among your ton friends.”
“While he gambles away my fortune? No, thank you.” She glanced out the window again, hoping Mr. Knight would make his way over to her soon.
“Mr. Knight will be assisting Lord Berwick in managing my financial affairs and I have offered to assist him in furnishing his home. He is woefully inept when it comes to matters of décor. And we don’t want a garish house ruining our lovely square, do we? ”
Mrs. Bolton did not appear convinced. “It is not his violating that beautiful house that worries me, but what he might do to you.”
Honestly!
It was a good thing her housekeeper had bustled away after tossing out the remark.
Any other mistress might have discharged her housekeeper for impertinence.
But Mrs. Bolton had been there since before Berry was orphaned.
Her position was secure. In truth, Berry dreaded losing any more people around her that she trusted and loved.
She went downstairs and walked into her garden to await Mr. Knight.
Melton soon set out the pitcher of lemonade and glasses. “Will that be all you need?”
Berry nodded. “Yes. This is perfect.”
“Then I’ll run next door and deliver the other pitchers.”
He had no sooner walked away than Mr. Knight climbed over the stone wall between their properties, easily scaling it. “Are you going to tell me how rude I am for presuming to hop over and not come to your front door?”
“No, but try not to make a habit of it,” she said with a light laugh. “My servants are already commenting about you.”
“What are they saying? Bad things, I suppose. Servants can sometimes be more scathing than their masters about who is quality and who is not. They are not wrong about me, I suppose.”
She frowned at him. “I shall tell you the same thing I just told my housekeeper. You are not titled. But that is not the same as quality. If I were forced to choose between marrying you or Lord Hawthorne, is there any doubt which of you I would choose? The man intent on stealing my funds and gambling them away, or the one who will invest them wisely and protect me?”
He grunted. “Let’s hope you are not required to choose either of us. Your wealth would be protected, but you would lose all your ton friends if you were to marry me.”
“That’s what my housekeeper said.”
“Well, now you’ve heard it twice. Let that sink in.”
They sat and had their lemonade.
He was in a sweat because of the physical labor he’d just completed, but he still smelled awfully nice, that undertone of citrus and sandalwood.
The weather was also cooperating. Still warm, but not quite as hot as it had been last week. There was a gentle, cooling breeze that rustled through the trees and lightly ruffled Mr. Knight’s hair.
She itched to reach out and brush her fingers through his slightly-too-long, dark hair.
But that was a ridiculous impulse.
“Shall we talk about your house?” Berry asked, setting down her glass after taking a sip.
Mr. Knight gulped his down, for the poor man had been working very hard in the morning heat and must have been intolerably thirsty.
“Yes,” he said, setting down his glass, too.
“I need so much help. I have all the workers I need, since so many of my businesses require constant upkeep. Painters, for example. They are ready to go, but I don’t know what paint colors to tell them to use.
Or should some rooms have wallpaper? What about the stain for the floors?
Or should I rip up the wood floors and put in marble? ”
She took pity on him because he appeared so genuinely confused. “Let me give you a tour of my home,” she suggested, “and then we shall walk over to yours.”
He shrugged, but then nodded and smiled at her in obvious gratitude. “All right.”
“Would you mind if I brought along my sketchbook and drew some ideas while we walked through your house?”
“I would be grateful.” He cast her another smile, this one boyishly endearing. “So, you can draw?”
“Yes, it is one of the many useless talents ladies of good breeding are encouraged to acquire. Singing and playing the pianoforte are also musts.”
“How are you at those?
She playfully winced. “Not good at all.”
Berry could not recall ever spending a more pleasant morning, she decided as she led Mr. Knight through the principal rooms of her home.
On the ground floor were the formal parlor where she held her soirées, the dining room, the music room, and the kitchen areas.
One flight up were her library, her study, the ladies’ salon where she held her tea society meetings, a sewing room, and two guest bedchambers.
Another flight of stairs up were the family bedrooms and dressing areas. Above that were the servants’ quarters.
She only showed Mr. Knight through the first two floors of the house, since these main rooms were the only ones most visitors to his home would see.
Besides, she dared not show him her own bedchamber because that was simply too intimate.
“Is there anything you particularly liked? Paint color? Wood? Drapes?”
He laughed and shook his head. “All of it is impressive. You are talking to a boy who grew up sleeping in a cot along with twenty other boys in a room painted gray and sparsely windowed. We were given uniforms and shoes, mint with which to brush our teeth, and a comb for our hair. Everything else we shared. I am not complaining. The orphanage was our salvation.”
Berry sighed. “Then you are the perfect one to advise me and Lord Berwick on what we are doing wrong.”