Lawrence pushed his hand through his hair and hastily smoothed it again as he surveyed the food set out on the kitchen table. A small bribe of a meal and the theatre had convinced Mrs Jackson to allow him free use of her domain for the night. He’d waved her, Helen, Charles and the children off at the door half an hour before.
He glanced at his watch. Esther was due any moment. He’d offered to send her a carriage, which she’d abruptly refused, saying a carriage was an unnecessary extravagance and she’d be more than happy to walk.
He studied the food again and tried to turn his thoughts away from any danger that might befall Esther as she walked alone through Bath’s streets. When Abigail died, he’d made it his business to have weekly meetings with Mrs Jackson, Charles and Helen just as his wife had. To ensure himself fully aware about the running of the house, the meals they’d eat and the weekly outgoings.
Upon leaving Culford Manor, he could only afford two rented rooms for him and Abigail in a house run by a kindly and widowed housewife. The woman had adored Abigail and was fond of Lawrence. By the time Rose arrived, he’d saved enough money working in various kitchens as an aid to the chefs, eventually learning to cook well enough himself that he’d started to look beyond the kitchens and imagine owning a hotel of his own one day.
A small loan from the bank a year later, and he’d purchased a small bed and breakfast when he was just twenty-seven. Wise investment, frugal spending and a whole lot of ambition had meant within five years he had a thriving hotel and enough money for his family and staff to be comfortable for the foreseeable future.
Hence why The Phoenix, one of the Bath’s most exclusive establishments, was his pride and joy. The hotel was entirely his, bought, kept and paid for without a single penny from his parents
He stood back and planted his fists on his hips.
The simple meal of soup, followed by cheese and potato pie and ice cream for dessert should be more than passable. Yet nerves continued to harangue him. He could only pray everything tasted as good as the wholesome smells permeating the kitchen.
Whipping Charles’ apron from his waist, Lawrence tossed it onto a chair and walked upstairs, along the entrance hall and into the dining room. Narrowing his eyes, he critically assessed the table and room decoration.
White crockery, rimmed with a delicate rose design, and silver cutlery shone beneath the lit wall sconces and tapered candles on the table. Red napkins perfectly matched the carnations in the centre arrangement and the wine had been decanted.
Everything looked the best it could be, and he thanked God he’d accepted the privilege of a woman’s touch to the room, courtesy of Helen. Where he’d be without the children’s nanny, he had no idea. In the morning, he would consider increasing his loyal staff’s wages. Helen, Charles and even Mrs Jackson had gone above and beyond their usual duties the moment Abigail had lost her life.
He fought the memory of her terrible screams during a labour that had gone on for hours. The midwife and then the doctor were called, but still Abigail lost her battle. When the ensuing haemorrhage took her life, the staff who’d loved her were devastated. Lawrence had been thrown into a state of stunned shock. He’d cared for Abigail deeply, even if he hadn’t loved her as a husband should.
His sad memories were halted by a knock at the front door.
He momentarily stilled, before rushing downstairs and into the hallway.
The silhouette of a woman’s hat showed through the glass in the door. The image so still and petite, it could only be Esther who seemed to hold herself in a constant state of unshakeable poise... aside from that one meeting with her stepmother. A meeting that continued to bother him, no matter how hard he tried to put it behind him as Esther had appeared to have done.
Relief she’d arrived flooded through him, dispelling his anguish, even though she might be angry when she realised his subterfuge of ensuring the staff and children were absent for the night. He would make it clear she was free to leave if she so wished. He just wanted some time alone with her. Just him and her. No staff. No children. No customers or colleagues.
Taking a deep breath, Lawrence strode to the door and pulled it open.
Esther flinched as though startled before her face lit with a smile and she huffed a laugh.
‘Sorry, I expected your butler or Helen to answer the door. You’re clearly a very modern employer.’
He smiled. ‘Won’t you come in?’
She brushed past him into the house, the soft floral scent of her perfume infusing his nostrils. She wore a pale blue dress that brought out hints of sapphire in her hazel eyes, her hat the same shade of blue bore a single white feather.
She looked beautiful and he wondered, again, if her dress was another she’d salvaged from her previous life in the Cotswolds.
He closed the door and smoothed the lapels of his dinner jacket. ‘Would you like a drink before we eat?’
‘A glass of wine would be nice.’
He waved her towards the dining room, nerves rolling through him. He needed to tell her they were alone, rather than have her draw the conclusion. If he was immediately honest, she’d then have the choice to leave. He prayed she wouldn’t.
Once they were in the dining room, Lawrence cleared his throat. ‘I’ve sent the staff out with the children for the evening. I thought it would be nice for us to have some time alone. Is that all right?’
The skin at her neck shifted as she swallowed, her glorious eyes wide. ‘We’re alone?’
He nodded.
‘But what if someone saw them leave followed by my arrival?’
He gently touched her hand. ‘Could we not let what others think concern us tonight?’
She glanced towards the door. ‘Unfortunately, whether rightly or wrongly, a woman’s reputation still remains everyone’s concern.’
He could hardly argue with the ridiculous, antiquated truth of her words. ‘If I’ve made a mistake, I’m sorry.’
She glanced towards the open door a second time. ‘Isn’t Mrs Jackson here, at least?’
‘No. I prepared this evening’s dinner myself.’
Her eyebrows lifted as an amused smile pulled at the corners of her pretty lips. ‘You cook?’
‘A little. It’s nothing fancy and I’m praying it’s edible, but yes, I cook.’
Her gaze softened, and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Then you’ve put me in rather a difficult position. How can I leave when you’ve gone to such trouble?’
Relieved beyond measure, Lawrence smiled. ‘You’ll stay?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes glinted with teasing. ‘You’re forgiven. This time.’ She walked to the window and stared towards the green beyond. ‘This street is so pretty.’
‘It is. When Abigail and I came to Bath, she fell in love with the Circus. She wanted to live and raise our children here. So, I promised her I’d one day earn enough money to buy any house she wanted.’ He exhaled a shaky breath as he walked to the drinks cabinet, finding it easier to talk about Abigail without Esther looking at him so intently. ‘Unfortunately, she died before we could afford to move here, but I kept my promise to her, anyway.’
The rustle of her dress sounded through the silence and, instinctively, Lawrence sensed she’d sat at the table. It suddenly mattered more than anything that she was comfortable and relaxed in his home. That she was comfortable and relaxed being alone with him.
Glasses filled, he stoppered the decanter, picked up their glasses and turned.
She sat at the table, her gaze soft on his. ‘You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m not even sure what to say.’
‘Then say nothing. All I want you to do is enjoy this evening.’
He passed her a glass of wine and then walked to the window, unable to look into her beautiful eyes and stop the words of admiration that danced on his tongue. Dusk was falling and the recreational area opposite the house was bathed in golden light. It was a beautiful evening. He would insist on escorting Esther home later.
Taking a sip of his wine, he returned to the table and put down his glass. ‘I’ll serve the soup and then we can talk.’ He met her gaze. ‘I’m so glad you came.’
‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’
‘I’ve jumped from certainty you would, to absolute conviction you wouldn’t.’ He huffed a laugh. ‘The one thing you manage to do is keep me on my toes.’
She grinned, her gaze delighted. ‘Then my intention is working.’
The flirtation in her voice and the happiness in her eyes sent him from the room like a man who’d won the biggest prize at the county fair. He pulled back his shoulders, barely resisting the urge to puff out his chest as he entered the kitchen.
It had felt good to tell Esther of Abigail’s wish to live in the Circus and that he’d eventually granted it. Albeit, she wasn’t here to see the house, come the end. He hoped it showed Esther he kept his promises. That no matter what the world might throw at him, he found a way through in the end. Hopefully, that would instil confidence in her that he’d be right beside her with the Cause and any other time she might call on him for help.
Ladling the soup from the pot on the stove into two bowls, Lawrence carefully wiped the edges with a cloth before carrying them into the dining room.
As he entered, he noticed a slight tremor in Esther’s hand as she lowered her glass to the table. Maybe she wasn’t quite as relaxed as he assumed, after all.
Uneasy, he forced a smile. ‘Soup is served, madam.’