“Ah, I see. You must be one of his customers,” she guessed.

This time he did grin. “Something like that.” He sat back and studied her from the shadows, his green eyes sparking with humor. “My name is Xavier Malcolm, the Earl of Haverton. Please convey my best wishes to your employer.”

The next morning, when Pleasant arrived at the shop, she politely greeted Mr. Reed, removed her outerwear, including the covering on her hair, and hung them up on a peg in the back room. As she tied an apron around her waist, she walked back to where he sat and said, “I met a mutual acquaintance last night. One of your customers, I believe, a man of rather significant influence. He asked me to convey his best wishes to you.”

He lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “Oh? And who might that be?”

“Xavier Malcolm, the Earl of Haverton.”

The moment she mentioned his name, her companion stiffened visibly. “Indeed. And how did you make the earl’s acquaintance?”

Pleasant hesitated, not sure how to explain. “I was in a difficult situation, and Lord Haverton helped ease it over.”

She hoped that might have been the end of it, but as she turned to go to the back room, he stopped her. “It sounds like an intriguing story.”

She winced. She didn’t wish to offer any more information, but considering the firm look on his face, Pleasant knew he wasn’t going to be placated that easily. So she cleared her throat and tried to make light of the situation. “Well, you see, I was at Madame LeFleur’s establishment—”

His eyes instantly widened. “You went to a brothel?” he thundered.

Pleasant didn’t much care for his tone, as if she were a child who needed proper direction. “I went to pick up the wash,” she pointed out.

“I see.” He seemed to digest this. “So how did the gallant Lord Haverton intercede on your behalf?”

She rather hoped she wouldn’t have had to reveal this part, but since she’d opened the door… “The Madame wasn’t pleased that I was late picking up the laundry, so she had hired someone else. She…uh…decided that I owed her for her trouble.” Her cheeks warmed considerably. “She meant to…offer my services in another fashion. Lord Haverton paid her price and took me home.”

He didn’t look pleased. At. All. “How much?”

She swallowed, wondering why that should matter. “Twenty guineas.”

He uttered a foul curse and shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t want you going back there ever again,” he demanded.

Pleasant drew herself up. “Since she’s no longer a customer, I don’t plan to.”

He drummed his fingers on his leg. “Who else do you work for?”

She hesitated. “It shouldn’t be your concern as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work here.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue the point, but in the end, he nodded curtly and turned his back to her. “You’re right, of course. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Hill.”

Chapter 4

Cornell brooded for the rest of the day, which was ridiculous. He knew it, and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake the storm cloud that had settled over his shoulders. He had no say in what Pleasant did outside of this shop. She was only an apprentice, and a temporary one at that.

For Christ’s sake, he’d only known of her existence for two days!

But then, why had he dreamed of her last night?

He shook his head and attempted to concentrate on the boot in his grasp. He had been perfectly fine on his own for years, preferring the sanctity of his solitary company. He had kept his relationship with his crew strictly professional, and only engaged in temporary affairs. It was what he’d wanted, how he liked it. No complications. It was why he’d always kept his half-brother at a distance.

So why was Miss Pleasant Hill turning out to be different? She had nothing special to recommend her other than her brilliant red hair, and yet, she was turning out to be vastly compelling.

He needed a mistress to distract him. That was all.

Perhaps he should take a walk down to Madame LeFleur’s this evening and clear his mind of the cobwebs that had settled there, for surely nothing else could explain this strange desire that he was starting to feel for Miss Hill.

Then again, he might just get the urge to tell the lady to bugger off for treating his employee in such an ill fashion.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. If only he hadn’t needed the extra help during the Christmas season…

“Mr. Reed?”

“What is it?” he snapped a bit more harshly than he’d intended.

A pause. “It’s time for me to go.”

Cornell glanced up and saw that indeed, night had nearly fallen, and she had donned her outerwear, including that absurd cloth over her hair. “Good night, then,” he returned curtly. There was another heavy pause, the kind that made his skin crawl, so he turned to face her fully. “Was there something else?”

She cleared her throat. “I…um…wanted to invite you over for supper this evening.”

This he hadn’t been expecting. “Oh. I see,” he grumbled.

“I only wanted to pay you back for your kindness yesterday with the scone and the apple, but I understand if it doesn’t suit.” She waved a hand and started to inch toward the door, realizing that she was rambling. “Another time, perhaps.”

He rose to his feet and found himself saying, “Actually, that sounds ideal. Just let me grab my coat.”

Cornell locked the shop and huddled in his greatcoat as he walked beside Miss Hill. He still couldn’t get over how small her frame was. He felt like a giant next to a dainty, winter fairy, for with the light snow that was starting to fall around them, a few flakes catching on her long eyelashes, she looked almost ethereal.

He forced his focus back ahead of him, determined to keep his distance from wandering thoughts.

Strictly professional.

After a time, they stopped before a boarding house that had seen better days. But when Pleasant opened the door to the rooms she shared with her family, Cornell had to pause at the sight before him. It just looked so…homey and welcoming.

A modest, but cheery fire was burning in the fireplace, a middle-aged woman with graying hair sitting with a blanket on her lap and a basket of sewing materials on the floor next to her. When she spied him, her face broke into a warm smile. “You must be Mr. Reed.”

Pleasant took off her cloak and hung it on a hook next to the door. “Mr. Reed, this is my mother, Mrs. Aine Hill.”

He offered the lady a brief bow, noticing that she didn’t rise. “A pleasure, madam.”

About that time, a flurry of activity came from upstairs and three inquisitive faces came forward. “Is this the cordwainer?” the eldest boy asked, his dark hair still damp from a wash, his blue eyes inquisitive.

Cornell wanted to grin, for the imp reminded him of himself at that age, young and full of spirit.

“His name is Mr. Reed,” Pleasant corrected firmly, and he instantly lowered his head, chastised. “Mr. Reed, these are my siblings, Niall, Connor, and Fiona.”

Connor had blond hair and brown eyes, and looked as if he might be prone to more mischief than his brother. Fiona held a rag doll in her arms and looked at him through innocent, but expressive brown eyes, a generous smattering of freckles across her tiny, upturned nose. It also didn’t escape his notice that her hair was almost identical to her older sister’s.