Clara stood on a chair in the storeroom of the White Bear, counting out the coffee pots that were kept on the top shelf on the wall opposite the closed door. Below her, her husband stood with his ledger book and pencil, waiting for her to tell him how many pots were in this room.
‘That’s twenty-seven. Although this one might have a crack in it,’ she said, turning with the white-porcelain pot in her hand and tilting it towards the window. ‘It’s either not been washed well or that is a crack.’ Rubbing her finger over the line, she was able to confirm that there was indeed a crack in the porcelain.
William wrote the number down in his ledger, took the pot from her hand and placed it on the lowest shelf. ‘I suppose one out of this entire storeroom isn’t too bad.’
‘The crack is very small. I could see how someone else might have missed it. Especially if they were putting them away late at night.’
Just as she lowered her hands and wiped them on her apron, he stepped closer and trailed his fingers under her skirt and up the back of her leg. The sensation sent a delicious shiver to her most intimate places.
‘I thought you said you needed my help with inventory since Mr Sanderson is visiting his sick mother.
‘I did. We are finished and I thought I’d show you my appreciation.’
‘We are in the storeroom.’
‘That never stopped us before,’ he offered with a lift of his brow.
His hand travelled up over her knee and Clara had to hold on to his shoulders to steady herself. A small satisfied smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Just as his hand begin to skim up her thigh, there was a knock on the door behind him. His hand froze.
‘Yes,’ he called out, not breaking their gaze.
‘There is someone here to see you, sir,’ Hatchard replied through the door. The young man who they had hired from the Foundling Hospital was settling in nicely, assisting Mr Sanderson here in the coffee house.
The disappointment on William’s face was obvious as he removed his hand from Clara’s thigh and helped her down from the chair.
‘Did you have an appointment?’ she asked, shaking out her skirt.
‘No.’
He opened the door and startled the slight, dark-haired young man who immediately averted his eyes. Did all of their employees assume when they were spending time in the storeroom that they weren’t exactly working? She had only been in that room four times with him.
‘Do you know who it is, Hatchard?’
‘Yes, sir, it’s the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale.’ From the expression on his face when he said Eleanor’s name it was apparent that this might have been the first time he had spoken with anyone of her elevated station in Society.
‘Where did you put her?’ he asked.
‘She told me she would wait for you and Mrs Lane in your office.’
‘Very good. Thank you for coming to get me.’
His smile of encouragement seemed to bolster the young man’s spirits since Hatchard stood a bit taller when he tipped his head respectfully at William and then at Clara before heading down the corridor to the shop.
William looked across at his closed office door and then over at Clara. ‘For a woman who wanted to be a silent investor in our spa, she seems to want to talk about it a lot.’
‘She is excited about the prospect. You should be happy. This spa was your idea.’
‘I am and you know how much I like her, but if the two of you are going to discuss colour choices for the walls again, I think I’ll find something else to count in the storeroom.’ He turned as if to go back inside and Clara tugged him around by his arm.
‘We were enjoying ourselves.’
Talking with Eleanor about the decorating scheme for the hotel after the ground floor was converted to a bathing spa was fun. She enjoyed picking out colours with her friend. But after a half an hour of their discussion two days ago, she could see her husband’s eyes glaze over. This was not the aspect of the business he enjoyed the most. Fortunately for him, it was one of her favourites.
‘You have my word. If she is here to bring me samples of paint, you can find any excuse you like to leave. I will not think you rude.’ She kissed his cheek for good measure.
‘Very well. I will take my paperwork from the stables and head home. I can work at my desk in our parlour just as easily as I can here.’
When he opened the door, they found Eleanor standing by the window, looking outside. She turned with a smile when she saw them.
‘You have been spending quite a bit of time here this week and I wasn’t far so I thought I would see if you were here first before I went to your home.’
‘Please, have a seat,’ Clara said, gesturing to the pair of chairs in front of William’s desk. She knew that look in Eleanor’s eyes. Some exciting bit of gossip was about to make the rounds of Bath.
‘Do you recall the other night you said the Col-lingswoods had been particularly quiet and you thought they might have returned to London without saying goodbye?’
Clara and William exchanged glances. Now they would find out why the house next door had been dark for the past week. Eleanor always seemed to find out things other people could not.
‘Well,’ she continued, sitting on the edge of her chair, ‘I received a letter from Greeley today. He was writing to thank me for introducing him to Miss Collingswood. It seems that your Harriet had been introduced to another man while you were on your honeymoon and Greeley was away working on Lyonsdale House. This gentleman had just become a baron and showed interest in Harriet. Her parents had favoured the match and were actively attempting to keep Harriet and Greeley apart.’
‘That’s terrible! Why did Harriet not write to me in Paris and tell me this?’
‘My dear, you were on your honeymoon. As young as Harriet is, I think she is wise enough to know not to bother you with her problems during such a time.’
‘But she is my friend. I would have tried to help her.’
Eleanor waved her comment away. ‘Nonsense. Besides, if you would have helped her we would not have this exciting news.’
William leaned forward on his desk and rested his forearms on the polished oak surface. ‘What news?’
Excitement was evident in Eleanor’s eyes as she looked between them. ‘Greeley and Harriet have run away to Gretna Green and got married over the anvil. They have eloped.’
Clara felt her eyes widen as William let out a burst of laughter.
‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’
‘It was her idea,’ Eleanor interjected. ‘Greeley told me so in his letter. The family had gone after them to try to avoid a scandal, but they didn’t reach them in time. Now Greeley and Harriet are married and plan to settle here in Bath. I told them that they can stay with me on the Crescent in the home I am leasing for the next few months.’ She tugged up her gloves near her elbow. ‘I knew that boy was destined to have a scandal of his own. I told him as much that night, months ago, when we were dining at your home. It seems I am the better matchmaker after all. I was able to match Harriet and Greeley, and the two of you.’
‘You didn’t match us together,’ Clara said, glancing at her husband.
‘Of course I did. I could tell the moment that you both were standing around that fountain in the Pump Room that you needed to be together. I could tell then and there by the way you looked at one another. Why do you think I left you alone during that ball in the Assembly Room? Why do you think I barely spoke to you during the performance of Mr Sheridan’s play? I know a love match when I see one.’
Clara wasn’t certain she would give Eleanor credit for bringing her and William together. She liked to think that fate had something to do with it that day at the Pump Room. If he had arrived an hour earlier or if she had chosen to stay home that day, they would never have spoken. And when her dress had got caught in the shrubbery in the park, fate had chosen that path for him to take that day.
She had a lot to thank the heavens for. But the one thing she was grateful for more than anything else was that she had been given a second chance to find love in her life. And she could not have asked for a better man to share this part of her life with.
Their voices must have woken Humphrey, who had been sleeping under Clara’s chair. He lifted himself with a yawn and slowly padded over to the other side of the desk. She could tell by his languid movements that he wasn’t finished with his nap yet and Clara knew that right now he was resting his head on William’s booted foot. There was a special bond between that dog and her husband and she would bet good money that William would not be reviewing his reports from the stable at home. He never would disturb their dog while he fell asleep on him. She wondered if he ever marvelled at how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time all because of the water here in Bath.
If you enjoyed this book,
check out the other stories in
The Sommersby Brides miniseries
One Week to Wed
“One Night Under the Mistletoe” in
Convenient Christmas Brides
His Three-Day Duchess
And why not read Laurie Benson’s
Secrets Lives of the Ton miniseries,
starting with
An Unsuitable Duchess