Chapter 1 #2
The words did not have the soothing effect the speaker had likely hoped they would.
Miss Margaret Bancroft opened her eyes and discovered herself alone with a strange man in an unknown room.
With a shriek, Meg shrank back against the chair as the fellow took several hasty steps backwards.
He held out his hands in a peaceable gesture, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. I know you are probably scared to death, but you really are quite safe, and yes, I know it’s pointless to say that, because even if I was a vile seducer of women or a murderer, I’d likely say the exact same thing, but all the same… I really shan’t hurt you.”
Meg stared at him, wondering if vile seducers or murderers typically had some identifying characteristics and if this fellow fit the design.
It was hard to imagine. He was a handsome man, with light brown hair cut short in the back and rather messy and too long in the front.
It fell in his eyes, and he pushed it back again, smiling ruefully.
He had laughing blue eyes and a mouth that seemed inclined to turn up at the corners.
“I’m sorry, but you fainted, and you were so cold your lips were turning blue.
I was rather frightened you were freezing to death, if you want the truth, and my rooms were right here with a fire blazing and…
and, well here you are,” he said, somewhat apologetically as he rubbed the back of his neck.
He looked awkward and rather like he regretted the impulse to help, for which Meg could hardly blame him.
“How do you feel?”
Meg watched him warily. Handsome he certainly was, and he seemed to be a kind fellow with good intentions, but that was hardly a guarantee of safety. If anyone knew she was here alone with him, she would be ruined. But then nobody knew or cared about her any longer anyway, so what did it matter?
“A… A little better, thank you,” she said, daring to take her eyes from him for a moment to look about the room.
It was elegant and comfortable, if rather untidy.
Bachelor rooms, she concluded, the knot in her stomach tightening a little.
“W-Won’t your wife mind you bringing home an unmarried lady? ”
“Oh, I’m not married. Not yet, leastways,” he added, though with such despondency she could only pity the lady in question.
“Well, I shall not keep you,” she said, getting to her feet with all the dignity she could muster, only to spoil the effect by sitting down heavily, her head spinning.
“I’m quite all right!” she said sharply, holding out her hand to fend him off, as the man looked as if he would come to her aid once more.
He stilled, then moved several steps back once more. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, and with such compassion Meg felt tears prick at her eyes. She rather hated him for that.
“Yesterday morning, I think.” The events of yesterday evening had been so appalling it was hard to remember anything before that.
“Well, no wonder you are so faint! You’re famished, no doubt.
Look, there’s a marvellous chophouse around the corner.
Would you come with me and let me buy you a hot meal?
I know it’s a dreadfully shocking offer from a man you don’t know, but I think perhaps your circumstances are such that it will be the least of your worries. ”
“I cannot possibly—” she began, even as her stomach made the most appalling and audible sound of protest.
“You won’t owe me anything!” he said, sounding impatient now.
“Because if you don’t come and I turn you out into the street, your face will haunt me for the rest of my days.
I’m going to help you because if I don’t, I shan’t have a moment’s peace ever again, so you’ll dashed well have to put up with it. ”
Meg stared. Once upon a time, she’d had a fine appreciation for the ridiculous and, despite everything, his righteous indignation tickled her sense of humour. “Oh, dear, you are having a dreadful evening, aren’t you?” she said with genuine sympathy.
He snorted at that. “Oh, it’s not just this evening. Christmas is going to be even worse, I promise you.”
“With your interfering family and in a warm house where you’ll be welcomed and well fed?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows.
He grimaced. “That was tactless, wasn’t it? I am tactless, I’m afraid. A graceless lout, my cousin tells me.”
She laughed at his chagrin, startling herself with the realisation she could still laugh when her life was in such disarray.
“Do come and eat with me,” he urged. “Once you’ve eaten, things won’t look so black, and we shall figure out a way forward for you.”
“We?” she said, that one word breathless with surprise.
“Well, yes,” he said, folding his arms and frowning down at her. “I’m your knight in… well, my armour is being polished. Will this do?” he asked, gesturing to his attire, which spoke of wealth and style and everything that was elegant.
“You really are very kind, aren’t you?” she said, staring into his blue eyes and praying she was not being an unutterable fool.
“Well, I think I am,” he said, sounding genuinely uncertain. “I can be a selfish devil, I know, but I’ve only ever had to consider my own comfort until this evening. Certainly, I have no nefarious plans upon your person,” he promised, with every appearance of gravity.
“But you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Meg remarked, her lips quirking in amusement.
He gave a bark of laughter and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, you have me there. I’m Ashford, by the way. Nathaniel Ashford, and you are—?”
“Miss Margaret Bancroft.”
He nodded and executed a formal bow, just as if they’d been presented at a ball, not that she’d know. “Your servant, Miss Bancroft. Now, do come along. I’m famished if you’re not.”
Nat watched as Miss Bancroft tucked into a meal of pork chops with thick gravy, boiled cabbage, and mashed potatoes.
It was hardly an elegant repast, but she ate heartily, though with a ladylike grace that did not escape him, and he wondered how she had come to be in such dire straits.
Though she told him she had lost her employment and been turned out of the house, he knew there must be more to it than that.
This woman had never been a shop girl or a flower seller.
She must have been an upper servant at least, and more likely a companion to an elderly lady or a governess as he’d first supposed.
As she ate, the colour returned to her cheeks and Nat studied her surreptitiously.
She was a lovely creature. The wide, solemn grey eyes that had first caught his attention were thickly lashed, with fine dark blonde brows arching over them.
Her mouth was a perfect cupid’s bow, the lower lip far fuller than the upper, and when she smiled, an expression he had only glimpsed for the moment, he had been certain there had been a dimple quivering, not quite brave enough to show itself.
He determined to make her laugh in earnest, for he could not abide not knowing such tantalising details.
“Oh,” she said, sitting back once her plate was cleared. “That was exactly what I needed. I am most grateful for your generosity,” she added, and Nat heard the rather prickly note return to her voice as she acknowledged his charity towards her.
“Nonsense, I am certain you would have done just the same if the circumstances had been reversed,” he replied with a shrug. “Let’s have some pudding.”
Without consulting her, he ordered apple pie with cream before returning his attention to her. He discovered her watching him curiously.
“Are you certain I would?”
“Would what?” he asked in confusion.
“That I would do the same thing?” she said impatiently. “How do you know this is not some elaborate scheme? You are clearly an eligible man, perhaps I am aiming to trick you into marriage?” she said, and with such bold candour he could only stare at her.
The well-bred ladies he knew would never speak so brazenly about such topics. Well, apart from his grandmother, but the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney was from a different time and was a law unto herself.
“Are you?” he asked, equally direct.
She blushed at that, putting up her chin. “Certainly not.”
“Well, there you are, then.”
“And you’re just going to take my word for it?” she asked, appalled.
Nat held her gaze. “Well, why not? You look sincere and I’m an excellent judge of character.”
Miss Bancroft shook her head, subsiding into a dejected silence that reminded him of just how dire her situation was.
“You really have no one to care for you? No aunts or uncles or cousins? A female friend, perhaps?”
“No. My mother died when I was a child and my father was rather eccentric, I’m afraid.
We had little society. He died almost a year ago.
He was ill for a long time and could not work.
I cared for him but, by the time he died, any money we once had was gone.
I had no idea how bad things had become, but before he passed away, he found me a position as a governess.
As the children’s father was the son of an old but dear friend of my papa’s, I hoped things would work out.
At first it seemed just what I needed, for the children were sweet creatures, but…
well, as I told you, I was dreadfully mistaken. ”
A governess, he thought in satisfaction. Just as he’d supposed.
“May I ask why things went so awry?”
Nat wished he had not asked as all the colour left her face but she met his gaze, and he saw storms gathering in the cool grey of her eyes. “They accused me of being a thief.”
“I see,” he said, grateful for the arrival of the apple pie as it gave him a moment to reassemble his thoughts. Steeling himself, he waited for the waiter to leave them alone again. “I suppose I must ask.”
“If I’m a thief?” she asked, a mocking glint in her eyes that ill-suited her face, which was open and lovely. “That depends on whether you believe it is possible to steal something that belongs to you.”