Chapter 6 #2
Gideon looked around, nodding curtly as he saw Lady Henrietta and her sister sitting at a table together.
“Good day to you, my lady. If you would excuse me, I’m looking for—”
“Your brother.”
Gideon started, turning back to her. “You know him?” he exclaimed, unable to hide the dismay behind the question.
“No. Not even a little,” she replied. “I just assumed that’s who you were looking for, as we saw him in the foyer when we arrived. I believe you just missed him.”
Gideon did not bother asking how she’d known it was him. They looked enough alike to make it obvious. Except that Damian’s features were far closer to perfection than Gideon’s, and he was a lot more dangerous to young ladies and their reputations, he thought grimly.
“Would you care to join us while you wait for his return?” she asked him. The question was nonchalant, but he sensed she truly wished him to join them.
Gideon glanced from Hetty to her sister. He ought to be at work, there was an endless list of things he’d hoped to get through today, and yet…
“Thank you,” he said, drawing out a chair.
Hetty smiled at him, pleasure shining in her eyes, but the moment he sat down, he wished he had not. He did not belong amongst these leisurely ladies and gentlemen, passing the time in pleasant idleness. It was too late to change his mind now, though.
“The ices are excellent. Have you tried them?”
Gideon shook his head. “No. I often have breakfast here, sometimes dinner too, but I’ve never tried the ices.”
“Whyever not? They’re marvellous,” she said, with almost childlike enthusiasm. “Here, try mine.”
She pushed the small bowl of flavoured ice towards him before he could protest.
“It’s raspberry,” she told him with undisguised glee.
Gideon frowned down at the dish of bright pink ice. “No, I—”
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Just taste it,” she said, and there was an impatient edge to her voice now.
“I ought to be getting back to the site,” he muttered, jittery with the desire to return and see what had happened in his absence.
“Mr Bramwell, the site will not fall into chaos because you had the temerity to stop and take a spoonful of flavoured ice.”
Gideon looked up to discover a remarkably fierce glint in her eyes.
“Don’t you ever relax?” she asked him.
He looked away from her, a little disturbed by the concern in her lovely eyes.
Reluctantly, he picked up the spoon as he considered the question.
Relax? No, in truth, he did not know how.
It seemed there was always something to worry about, some disaster to avert, something broken that needed mending, some outrageous bill he must find the means to pay.
He stared at the pink ice, realising in that moment that he was weary beyond bearing. Not physically, but mentally.
How nice it would be if everything would just stop. Just for a moment.
Digging the little silver spoon into the ice, he lifted it to his lips. The icy explosion of sweet, tart flavour that burst upon his tongue was quite the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
He allowed it to melt in his mouth, swallowing with pleasure. Lifting his eyes to Hetty, he smiled.
“You are quite right. It’s marvellous.”
“I know!” she said, looking so delighted by the admission that he could not help but smile. “Cilly and I have decided we must try every flavour available before we leave. It is our mission.”
“A fine ambition,” he agreed, lips quirking. He reached for the dish to return it to her, but she covered his hand with her own.
“You finish it,” she said gently. “You look as if you could do with a treat.”
Gideon stilled, riveted by the touch of her bare hand upon his. She had taken her gloves off to eat and they sat on the table beside her. He looked up and their eyes met and… she snatched her hand away.
He glanced towards her sister, who was watching them with avid attention.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Thank you, but I do not wish to deprive you of your treat.”
“Oh, you won’t. I’m going to order the coconut flavour now,” she said, gaining the attention of a young waitress and doing just that.
As it would have seemed churlish to refuse her kindness, Gideon finished the ice, hoping they would not think him appallingly rude if he left the moment it was gone.
“This way, your grace. I have the perfect table for you.”
Gideon looked around as he recognised Mrs King’s voice and saw the elegant redhead was escorting the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney onto the terrace.
“Gee-Gee!” Hetty exclaimed with delight.
“Ah, good afternoon, my dears,” the dowager said, smiling warmly at them. “And Mr Bramwell.”
She looked between them with obvious interest.
“I was looking for my brother, but found the ladies,” Gideon said hastily, pushing to his feet. “I had better be returning to site, however.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” the woman said, studying him. “All work and no play, Mr Bramwell. You are looking rather weary, if you don’t mind me remarking it. Don’t you sleep? I have a fine remedy for that.”
Gideon stiffened, aware that the other people on the terrace might be listening in. “I’m perfectly well, I assure you, but I thank you for your concern. If you’ll excuse me. Thank you, Lady Henrietta, for the ice. It was most welcome.”
She nodded, but her expression was troubled as he hurried away.
As he walked through the foyer, he found Mrs Fairway at the reception desk.
“Yes, Lord Rivington booked in earlier, but he went out a little while ago,” she told him with a smile.
“Did he say when he’d be back?”
“I’m afraid not. Would you like to leave a message for him?” she asked.
Gideon shook his head. There was no point. If Damian had come here to cause mischief, he’d find out soon enough.
“Might I pay for Lady Henrietta and her sister? They were kind enough to share an ice with me, and I’d like to repay their kindness.”
“Certainly, Mr Bramwell.”
Having settled their account, Gideon left the hotel, his nerves jangling. He might have known everything had been going too smoothly. It was only a matter of time before it all went to hell.
The Mermaid, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 21st July 1816
Hetty watched Mr Bramwell go.
Gee-Gee was right. He looked tired. Worn to a thread, actually.
She might not know him well, but she could tell the hotel meant everything to him.
He meant to make a great success of it, to establish his reputation as one of the best young architects around.
Ambition shimmered in his eyes when he spoke of his work, and she greatly admired his determination, his drive.
If only she could find something to feel so passionately about.
But needlework and watercolour painting and all the things that ladies were allowed to fill their time with had always left her cold. It was so dull.
Forcing her attention from the enigma that was Mr Gideon Bramwell, she turned back to Gee-Gee, who; she saw now, was not alone.
A rather dapper man attended her. He was perhaps a few years her junior, but with the strength and fitness of a man who had been active all his life.
His weatherbeaten face was interesting, and his eyes twinkled with intelligent interest.
“Come and sit with us,” Gee-Gee said to them, brooking no refusal to her invitation by walking off to take her place at the table Mrs King had reserved for her.
Cilly and Hetty exchanged amused glances and followed.
The waitress, returning with their new orders, obligingly took their bowls and set them down on the table.
“What have you got there?” Gee-Gee demanded, peering at their ices with interest.
“I have coconut. It’s my second bowl, I had raspberry first, and it was delicious.”
“Rose and vanilla,” Cilly said, gazing at her bowl with anticipation. “And I had mint. It was most refreshing.”
They looked pointedly at the gentleman who was standing awkwardly by the table and Gee-Gee followed their gaze. “Oh, Lady Henrietta, Lady Cecilia, Major Hancock. Major, these are the Dowager Duchess of Langley’s granddaughters.”
“Delighted, ladies, delighted,” the fellow said, grinning at them. He bowed respectfully.
“Oh, stop flirting and sit down, Arthur,” Gee-Gee scolded him before turning her attention to Mrs King, who had been waiting discreetly to take their orders.
“I’ll have the Rose and vanilla, and the coconut,” she said before thinking about it for a moment. “And the raspberry. What’ll you try, Arthur?”
The Major smiled warmly at Mrs King. “My usual, please, my dear.”
“Of course, Major,” she replied before moving away and leaving them alone.
“What is your usual?” Gee-Gee asked, slanting him a curious glance.
“Rum and raisin,” he said, and smacked his lips.
“Why drat you,” Gee-Gee exclaimed crossly. “If I’d known there was rum and raisin, I’d have ordered it.”
The major chuckled. “I’ll share with you. How’s that?”
Gee-Gee grumbled, but this seemed to mollify her.
Hetty looked around, appreciating the pretty scene as the others chatted.
Though the sun remained stubbornly absent, she knew the southeast of the country was exceedingly lucky.
The weather was appalling throughout the country, and predictions of crop failures and a dreadful harvest filled the papers daily.
But regardless of the overcast sky, the terrace of The Mermaid was resplendent with red geraniums in elegant containers, and the balcony gave the most beautiful view over the sea.
Despite her pleasure in the moment, her thoughts returned to Gideon, and she wondered if he was working too hard.
An odd stillness settled over those enjoying the afternoon, the conversation dying around her, and Hetty looked up.
As she did so, she noticed Viscount Rivington walk onto the terrace.
Aware of all heads turned his way, he inclined his head, giving them a sardonic smile, before seating himself at a table by himself.
He looked directly at Hetty, his gaze sliding next to her sister. His eyes glinted, bright and fathomless as the sea before them, and Hetty shivered.