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.
But as they all settled down to eat the modest meal that had been prepared, cabbage soup with boiled potatoes, it was easy for Cornell to understand why Pleasant wanted to give them the moon and the stars. It was apparent that they were a close-knit family, even if Mrs. Hill wasn’t in the best health, excusing herself halfway through the meal to retire early.
As a peach dessert was served, the boys regaled them all with tales from their adventures as a pair of chimney sweeps and how one of the boys had gotten stuck. While it was a humorous tale, Cornell found that most of his interest was focused on Pleasant and her inhibited responses in an atmosphere that was familiar to her. Her laughter was free and easy, and her emerald eyes sparkled with true mirth.
It suddenly made Cornell wonder how different things might have been if…
No. He wasn’t going to go down that path. He never had, and he swore that he never would. His mother had been enough, and he’d never regretted not knowing his father. The fact that he’d sent her packing once he had seduced her and gotten her with child had been all Cornell needed to know. Whether they were from different social classes or not shouldn’t have mattered. He was a firm believer in taking responsibility for one’s actions regardless of one’s upbringing.
Here, in these small, cramped quarters in the heart of London, it didn’t matter how one held a fork, or how starched one’s cravat was. What mattered was the depth of a person’s character. While he could relate to Pleasant and her family much more than he could withstand the outward appearances to be had in Mayfair, he was still that boy who had held himself back from the rest of the children in that modest village, because no matter what occurred, he would always be an earl’s bastard son, who didn’t truly belong anywhere.
Pleasant could see that Mr. Reed was becoming more withdrawn as the evening wore on, so she instructed her siblings to clear the table. Once she did, he rose to his feet. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening, Miss Hill, but I should be taking my leave.”
She stood as well. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
As he shrugged on his overcoat and then donned his hat, he gestured to the ropes hanging from the ceiling rafters. “Dare I ask what those are used for?”
Pleasant smiled. “We hang the wash to dry inside during the winter.”
