Page 47 of The Maid of Fairbourne Hall

Lewis hesitated, then lifted his chin. “Dashed right too.” He took a long swallow. “Though had I planned the affair there would be real drink instead of this weak woman’s punch.”

“Exactly,” Hudson agreed, a strange glint in his eyes.

Connor, Margaret noticed, skirted the crowd and sidled over to a beaming Hester. He took her hands, spread them wide, and surveyed her new dress with admiration.

Lewis downed the remainder of his cup and strode across the room. “Mrs. Budgeon, I wish to claim my dance as eldest son and master in my father’s absence.”

“I’m sorry, sir. But I am needed to play. We engaged a fiddler, but I am afraid he is, em, indisposed.”

Jenny protested loudly, “Flat-out foxed, more like!”

Mrs. Budgeon offered apologetically, “Perhaps another of the staff will do?”

Once again Betty ducked behind Mr. Arnold. Lewis looked around the room, frowned at Jenny’s saucy gap-toothed smile, hesitated on Joan, then landed on Nora.

His eyes narrowed as he walked toward her. “You look familiar. What’s your name?”

Accent, don’t fail me now! “Nora, sir. Nora Garret.”

“Have we met?”

She almost said she made his bed every morning but feared he would find some unintended innuendo in that. Instead she laughed nervously and looked down at her clasped hands. “Not likely.”

She was aware of Joan’s wide eyes as she looked from this gentleman to her former mistress and back again.

Had Joan ever seen Lewis Upchurch? It was possible she had seen him when he called at Berkeley Square once or twice early in the season.

She certainly hoped Joan wouldn’t say anything to expose her now.

She had enough to worry about, fearing she might expose herself.

Something about the flat gleam in Lewis’s eyes made Margaret wary, but when he offered his arm, she took it.

Nathaniel sat in the cozy sitting room upstairs, spent.

Helen sat in an armchair near the fire, book in hand.

He was glad they had decided to give the servants their ball.

But it had never crossed his mind that in so doing, he might be compelled to dance with Margaret Macy again, and in his very home.

He might have reconsidered had he known.

His traitorous body had reacted to her nearness, the touch of her hand in his, in annoying fashion.

Hudson gave his telltale double knock and entered when bid. Nathaniel was still not used to seeing his friend in such a role. In Barbados, things had been much more informal between them.

“Good evening, Hudson. Everything all right belowstairs?”

“I... believe so, sir. Shall I have tea and sandwiches sent up for you here?”

“Thank you, Hudson, yes,” Helen replied for them both.

Hudson hesitated. “I thought you would want to know that Mr. Lewis has just arrived.”

“Lewis?” Helen’s countenance brightened. “We weren’t expecting him.”

Nathaniel frowned and sat forward. “Where is he?”

“Last I saw him he was dancing with our new housemaid.”

Nathaniel stood abruptly to his feet. Helen rose and stepped to his side, laying a hand on his arm. “Nathaniel... careful. Please don’t fight again. Lewis means no harm to... anyone, I’m sure.”

It was an odd reaction, he realized after his burst of anger subsided, unless she knew the true identity of the new housemaid.

“I shall just go down and welcome him home.” Nathaniel patted Helen’s hand, extracted himself from her grip, and quit the room.

He strode down the corridor and jogged down the stairs.

In the basement, the unexpected sound of the pianoforte—along with the aromas of savory meats, yeasty breads, and ale—ushered him down the narrow passageway to the servants’ hall.

From the doorway, Nathaniel saw them, and his stomach clenched.

Lewis, tall and handsome, hand in hand with Nora, looking self-conscious.

But in a flash, he saw not Nora but Margaret.

Not with black hair but with blond. Her simple frock replaced with a gown of fine white satin, jeweled ornaments in her golden curls, eyes sparkling up into the face of his dashing older brother.

He felt again the sharp kick of jealousy, the iron weight of dread he had felt two years ago when he realized, She doesn’t look at me that way.

... And he’d tried to ignore the growing fear that he was losing her.

To his very own brother. A man who would never appreciate her, never love her as he did.

Lewis danced Nora through the doorway, all but colliding with Nathaniel, jarring him from his miserable reverie.

Lewis drew up short. “Nate, ol’ boy. Grand party. Well done. Wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“Mr. Upchurch!” Nora blurted, face blushing. “I... I am glad to see you. Again.”

He doubted it. She looked embarrassed. Caught.

Bemused, Lewis glanced from the girl’s flushed face back to him. “A housemaid is glad to see you. And why should that be, I wonder?”

“I have no idea,” Nathaniel said, avoiding her eyes. “What brings you home?”

“I must have sensed something afoot. I can smell a party forty miles off.”

“Apparently.”

Nora pulled her hands from Lewis’s grasp and excused herself, hurrying away down the passage.

Lewis watched her go. “She reminds me of someone.... Who is it?”

“One of your many conquests, no doubt,” he said dryly. “Well, I shall leave you to it. Just wanted to welcome you home.”

Retreating into the kitchen, Margaret wrung her hands in time with the twisting of her stomach.

Now Nathaniel would think the worst of her.

If he still thought her simply a maid, he would now think her a flirt, a saucy light-skirt who had instigated the dance and near tête-à-tête with Lewis.

And worse, if he suspected who she was, he would surely think she was up to her old tricks.

Trying to woo his older brother. She paced the kitchen, fretting.

One of the hired servers looked up from the tray she was laying with tea and sandwiches. “All right, love?”

Margaret nodded. Then her eyes locked on the tray. “Is that for upstairs?”

“It is.”

“May I take it up?”

The older woman shook her head. “Don’t want them thinkin’ I’m shirkin’ my duty. Yer to be dancin’. Aren’t you enjoying it?”

“I was, but... a certain man was becoming a bit forward.”

“A footman, was it?” The woman tsked. “Always a footman.”

Margaret stepped near. “May I please take it up? The sitting room is it?”

“Yes, but... Oh, very well. If yer set on it. Any man comes lookin’ fer ya, I’ll send him on his way sharp-like, all right?”

“Thank you.”

Hands trembling, Margaret carried the tray upstairs and along the corridor to the sitting room.

This way, she told herself, Nathaniel would see her and know she was not still with Lewis.

Would not imagine the two of them alone together somewhere and believe the worst. Using her elbow, she hooked the door and pulled it open, letting herself in.

Carrying the tray inside, she kept her head down to mask her anxiety.

“Ah, Nora,” Helen said. “Why are you not at the ball? The hired servers were to relieve you all tonight.”

“I don’t mind. They were busy, so I offered.”

Helen nodded, but Nathaniel watched her through narrowed eyes as she set down the tray on the table before them.

“Shall I pour, or...?”

She hoped to delay her departure, though she was sure her hands would shake if she tried to pour under his scrutiny.

But Helen excused her. “Never mind, I shall pour. You go back downstairs and enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, miss.” Margaret curtsied and stepped to the door, just as Lewis sailed through it.

He hesitated at seeing her. “There you are. Wondered where you’d goneto.”

“Lewis!” Helen called warmly.

He turned to his sister, “Hello, Helen old girl.” He walked over to kiss her upturned cheek, and Margaret made her escape.

———

Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to think. Would “Nora” and Lewis still be dancing, or lingering alone in the dim passage, had she not been asked to bring up the tray?

Or had she really offered, and if so why?

She clearly had not taken advantage of a private moment to reveal her identity to Lewis, for he obviously had no idea who she was.

“A ball at Fairbourne Hall, at long last.” Lewis smirked. “I take it the economizing is over?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No. But we thought it wise to do something good for our people here, after recent... misunderstandings. But we still must tighten our belts or we may yet need to take more radical steps. Perhaps even sell the London house.”

“Never say so.” Lewis’s face puckered. “Promise me you will not do... In fact, you cannot, without my consent, my being the eldest and all.”

Nathaniel willed himself not to grow angry. “Lewis, you are perfectly welcome to stay and manage the estate if you like, but you cannot manage it from your London club.”

Lewis stared at him, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t remain in Barbados. We were managing fine here on our own. Weren’t we, Helen?”

Helen sipped her tea but made no answer.

Nathaniel said, “Even if that were true, it was time for me to come home.”

One of Lewis’s eyebrows rose. “Barbados didn’t suit you?”

“It wasn’t Barbados I objected to. It was slavery, as you know.”

Lewis pressed, “You think we have problems now? Force Father to give up slave labor and you’ll learn the meaning of financial straits.”

“Money isn’t everything, Lewis.”

Lewis frowned. “Then why do you always ride me about it? Your lofty morals don’t put you in charge, Nate. Nor do they give you the right to sit there and play potentate.”

Nathaniel seethed. “Father put me in charge when you insisted on remaining in London while Fairbourne languished. Had you stayed in Barbados as he wished, I—”

Lewis leaned back and crossed his long legs. “Too dashed hot there. Too much work.” He raised a brow. “Not enough beautiful women.”

“Lewie...” Helen scolded, but affection tinged her tone.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply and moderated his voice. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Lewis shrugged. “No reason. Does a man need a reason to come to his own home?”

“Usually. Do you mean to stay, then?”

“No, not yet. I’ve just come down for a day or two.”

“What are your plans?”

“No plans.” He grinned at Helen. “Just wanted to see my favorite girl.”

Even though Lewis directed the words at Helen, Nathaniel had the distinct impression she was not the “girl” he meant.