While she didn’t wish to speak of her poor existence surrounded by such wealth, it was who she was. “My father was a cobbler. After his death, my stepmother and I lost everything. We came here last year with my siblings hoping for a new start.”
“And what is it that you do, Miss Hill?” This came from the earl. “Other than work for Mr. Reed, of course.” Again, there was no judgment in his tone, only a true interest.
“I worked as a washerwoman while my stepmother became employed as a seamstress. I’m afraid that her health won’t allow much else.” Pleasant had noticed that Aine hadn’t been coughing as much as usual, but then, her episodes usually faded in and out. “My brothers are fifteen and eleven and work as chimney sweeps. My sister is only seven, so she remains at home and helps with the cleaning and light cooking.”
“Such difficult occupations for you all,” the countess said with a regrettable shake of her head. “I’ve been telling my husband that conditions for the working classes are deplorable. If only Parliament would take more care to notice the fact.”
“That might come sooner than they imagined,” Cornell murmured from beside her. “But then, that is something I’ll discuss with Lord Haverton a bit later.”
“There’s no need for that,” Xavier returned. “I encourage my wife’s interest in all things, politics included.”
“Very well.” Cornell wiped his mouth with his napkin as the soup was replaced with the second course.
Pleasant’s mouth watered as she eyed the baked fish, asparagus, and Yorkshire pudding with its flaky crust as it was placed in front of her. At this rate, she would snap the strings holding her stays together. But that didn’t keep her from picking up her fork and raising a mouthful of scrumptious food to her lips.
“In regard to reform,” she heard Cornell say. “You already know there has been talk of a rebellion within the guilds.” He paused. “Yesterday I was approached to join the cause.”
Pleasant saw Lord Haverton frown and lean back in his chair. “So the unrest continues to grow.”
“Indeed,” Cornell concurred. “And if something isn’t done quickly, then I fear Parliament will have a mess on their hands to clean up.”
The earl tapped a finger on the table. “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, Cornell. I will see what I can do. The last thing the working class people need is any more turmoil in their lives.”
The last part of the meal was custard with orange cream. Pleasant was determined to steal the recipe from the Haverton cook to try and duplicate it for her family for it was Niall’s favorite dessert.
Afterward, the men chose to stay behind to enjoy a brandy, while the countess looped her arm through Pleasant’s and said, “Come, Miss Hill. Any new lady that comes into the house must see my conservatory. I’m quite proud of it.”
“I’d be glad to, Lady Haverton,” Pleasant replied, and she couldn’t help but risk stealing a quick glance at Cornell as she departed. Her chest warmed when she saw that his gaze was fixated on her retreating figure.
“I like Miss Hill,” Xavier said once the ladies were gone. “I daresay you seem to be quite enamored with your comely apprentice. Do you intend to make her an offer?”
Cornell couldn’t help but snort. “You’re rather presumptuous.”
“Just observant,” the earl countered. “It doesn’t take a scholar to discern you have developed quite a strong attachment to her. The question is what are you going to do about it?”
He stared into his half-empty wine glass rather than meet the other man’s gaze, where he might see the truth of his feelings, the likes of which he hadn’t quite sorted out himself as yet. “I’ve only known her for two weeks. Don’t you think it’s a bit early for declarations?”
“It’s not unheard of,” his companion murmured. “I knew the first time I met Althea that she was the one.”
“Be that as it may, such sentimentality is beyond my realm of expertise,” Cornell drawled. But then he recalled his reasons for coming here tonight. Pushing his pride aside, he looked to the earl. “I would, however, like to ask a favor of you.”
Xavier didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
Cornell clenched his jaw and weighed his words carefully. “In spite of my reluctance to join the cause among the guilds, I had a guest the other night, Mr. Ottfield, who inferred that I might have made some enemies in spite of it. I know you can take care of Althea, but—”
“You’re concerned for Miss Hill and her family,” his half-brother finished.
Cornell didn’t have to say anything further. He glanced down at the floor as Lord Haverton guessed correctly.
“In that case, I will make sure that an extra patrol is set up to watch the residence.”
“Thank you.” Cornell rose to his feet. His brother did the same.
“I’m glad to assist in any way I can.” Xavier put his hands on his hips, his green gaze intent. “I’ve told you that numerous times upon your return to London. You’re my only sibling, and while I can’t very well offer you a title or demand that you are accepted in society, I can try to make up for past errors. I just wish that you would believe that I’m not like our father.”
Cornell reached out and set his hand on the earl’s shoulder. It was the first sign of respect that he’d ever offered, and he could tell it surprised Xavier. “I’m starting to,” he said quietly.
As they were making their way to the parlor, they overheard Pleasant and Althea laughing and chatting as if they were old friends, rather than recent acquaintances from completely different worlds.
As they came into view, Xavier murmured near his elbow, “If she had debuted in society, I have no doubt she would have had several offers of marriage during her first season.”
“More than likely,” Cornell concurred. “And suffered a fate worse than death by being attached to some idiot who spends all his time at the gaming tables or his club.”
For some reason, picturing that very scenario caused Cornell no end of frustration. He had to focus so as not to clench his fists and pummel this phantom husband for dishonoring her—and then claiming her for himself.
Pleasant paused beside him in all her glorious beauty, both inside and out, and a brilliant smile lit Althea’s face as she joined her husband. “You’re under the mistletoe.”
Cornell glanced overhead and had to smile as he looked back down at Pleasant. “We seem to be doing that a lot lately,” he teased.
She smiled. “Indeed, we have.”
He brought her within the circle of his arms. “We mustn’t disappoint our hosts,” he murmured, but when he would have kissed her, the butler interrupted.
“Pardon me. A Mr. Niall is at the door, urgently asking for Miss Hill.”
Cornell followed Pleasant as she instantly rushed to the door. When her brother spied her, his face washed in relief. “Pea, come quick! It’s Mama.”
