CHAPTER THREE

Daniel’s gaze travelled over all three women, two of them clearly servants, and came to rest on the one clad in a smart, dark green carriage dress who was clearly in charge. But who the devil were they? Surely they couldn’t be from Hawthorne’s? Could they?

He raised enquiring brows at Flynn, currently staring helplessly back at him. Then, before he could ask the obvious question, the woman in green stepped forward, saying briskly, ‘Good afternoon, sir. As I daresay you are aware, Lord Reculver is expecting us.’

Another surprise; two, in fact. She spoke like a lady. And since she clearly didn’t think he was Reculver, she presumably thought she was here to meet his father. Inclining his head, Daniel made a leisurely descent to the hall, saying, ‘And you are?’

‘Anna Hawthorne, sir. Senior valuer for the company – and also, for the last two years, its proprietor.’

Mama’s scent bottles are worth the owner’s time, are they? That’s interesting , he thought. But said, ‘How do you do, ma’am?’ He strolled towards her, held out his hand and when she placed hers in it, bowed slightly before instantly releasing her. ‘Please forgive my surprise. I made the obvious but mistaken assumption that the valuer sent by your company would be a man.’

‘As might usually be the case, sir. But with his lordship being such a regular and valued client over so many years, I felt that taking care of his collection personally was the least we could do.’

‘How very civil of you.’

‘Not at all. Might I briefly meet his lordship to introduce myself?’

‘You have already done so,’ he replied smoothly. ‘My father died six months ago. I am Reculver now.’

Her colour rose, her mouth opened, then closed and she swallowed.

‘Oh. I … see. I’m so sorry. We had no idea, Please excuse the misunderstanding and accept our condolences, belated though they are.’

‘Think nothing of it, ma’am.’ He glanced beyond her. ‘Ah, Mrs Dawson. Please show Miss Hawthorne and her … companions … to their rooms and – ’

‘Mrs Thompson is here to assist me with the valuation, my lord,’ cut in Anna, gesturing to the older of the two women behind her. ‘Jenkins is my maid.’

‘I see. Well, if there is anything you need, please ask Mrs Dawson. We dine informally at seven. My mother is unlikely to join us but my sister will be there – so you need not be concerned for the proprieties.’

‘I’m not.’

The statement had clearly been involuntary because she looked as if she wanted to clap a hand over her mouth, causing Daniel to repress a faint smile along with his inclination to say, Of course you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be here, would you?

Instead, and with another slight bow, he said, ‘Until dinner, then.’ And walked away.

Once upstairs in a pleasant if slightly shabby bedchamber, Anna collapsed on the window seat, groaning inwardly whilst the housekeeper and footman came and went with hot water and trays of tea and sandwiches.

That wasn’t the best start, was it? she thought. Actually, it could scarcely have been worse. And, aside from the good looks Ruth is busy cooing over, that man downstairs wasn’t the one I last saw from a schoolroom window four – no, five – years ago . This time an audible groan escaped her. But how did we not know his father was dead? At least if we had I’d have been better prepared. As it was, the whole encounter – short as it was – knocked me off-balance with the result that I looked like an idiot . What on earth can he be thinking? And then, I need to pull myself together. If I don’t, dinner is going to be a nightmare .

Daniel’s thoughts, had she been privy to them, wouldn’t have made her feel better.

Medium , was the word that cropped up most. Medium height and build; medium brown hair and eyes that might have been either blue or grey. He rather suspected that if, without seeing her again, he was asked to describe her in twenty-four hours’ time, he’d struggle to do it. Not that that mattered in the least. She was here in person and she owned Hawthorne’s Porcelain … so she had the authority to make a commitment without the necessity of gaining someone else’s approval. She was also starting with the handicap of arriving ignorant of with whom she would be dealing. All that was to his advantage. Perhaps he ought to dust off what was left of his charm and try using it. One never knew. It might work.

Having changed for dinner, he tracked Rebecca to Mama’s sitting-room where she had been trying, so far without success, to persuade their mother to dine downstairs.

‘No,’ her ladyship was saying for what was probably the fifth time, ‘I shall have a tray in my rooms while this – this female is here. I would hesitate to call her a lady.’

Daniel blinked. ‘Who told you the valuer is a woman?’

‘Mrs Dawson. What’s more, the assistant she’s brought with her works in the manufactory as a painter . Can you imagine?’

‘Why not?’ said Rebecca unexpectedly. ‘She must be very skilled at what she does or she wouldn’t be employed to do it – never mind coming here to help the lady owner.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ said Daniel. ‘Mrs Dawson again?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned at him. ‘The quickest way to find out anything is to ask the servants. You know that as well as I do.’

Ignoring this, he said,‘So you’ve already worked out that the Anna Hawthorne currently in the green room and the Anna Hawthorne you were at school with are one and the same?’

‘Yes. But she won’t remember me. She left when I was fourteen.’

‘Remind her, then. It may spare us some excruciating silences over dinner.’

***

When Anna was shown into what she suspected was actually a breakfast-parlour, she found the viscount and his sister already there, conversing by a window overlooking the garden. Both turned as she entered and, smiling, Miss Shelbourne immediately moved towards her saying, ‘Miss Hawthorne … you won’t recall it, I daresay, but we were at Miss Winslow’s together. How lovely to see you again.’

Anna blinked. As far as she could remember, they had never exchanged two words with each other; and her reason for remembering Miss Shelbourne wasn’t one she could admit to. For want of something better, she said, ‘Thank you. It’s kind of you to say so.’

Waving that aside, Rebecca plunged into a series of light-hearted ‘ do you remember? ’ reminiscences about school, leaving Daniel free to move away and pour three small glasses of sherry – now, a rarely indulged luxury – whilst listening to Miss Hawthorne’s replies. The stiltedness of these suggested that drawing-room small talk wasn’t something with which she was very adept. But finally, he heard her say stiffly, ‘Please allow me to say how sorry I was to hear of your father’s death, Miss Shelbourne. As his lordship may have told you, I was unaware of it until today.’

‘I didn’t tell her that, as it happens,’ remarked Daniel. ‘But I’m sure she knows.’

Rebecca laughed. ‘My spies are everywhere!’ And more seriously, ‘We have few visitors and the servants rarely see a new face. So when they do …’ And she shrugged as if that explained everything.

Still clutching her barely-touched glass, Anna murmured, ‘Of course. You have yet to put off your blacks. It is a difficult time.’

‘It is. But the only reason I haven’t yet come out of black is because Mama becomes distressed every time I raise the subject.’

‘Then stop talking about it and do it,’ said Daniel flatly. ‘No one outside the estate sees you – and, even if they did, it’s been over six months.’ Then, without waiting for her to reply, he turned smoothly to Anna and said, ‘What is your opinion, ma’am?’

Taken by surprise, Anna narrowly avoided choking over her sherry and managed to say that she had worn black for some ten months following her father’s death. Then, ‘But it was different for me. I had meetings with lawyers, accountants, suppliers and the senior management of the company. I was twenty-one. I had to look capable … and black made me appear older.’

For the first time, Daniel eyed her with some interest. But before he could speak, Rebecca said, ‘That all sounds rather daunting.’

‘Not particularly – though I had a great deal to learn about the financial and legal side of the business.’

‘And the manufacturing processes?’ queried Daniel idly.

‘No. Thanks to my father, I was already extremely well-versed in that.’

A tap at the door heralded Flynn announcing that dinner was about to be served.

Daniel nodded, set the empty glasses aside and pulled out a chair for Miss Hawthorne. Then, over vegetable soup, simple but well-cooked roast lamb and a raspberry tart, he set himself the task of behaving more like the perfect, aristocratic host he was supposed to be than a man facing financial ruin on a daily basis. He had even told Flynn to serve wine with the meal – something else they usually did without these days.

By the time they had finished eating, he rather thought he had Miss Hawthorne’s measure. To a large degree, the late Mr Hawthorne had reared her as he might have done a son so that, when the time came, she could take over his mantle within the manufactory. But a single, colourless reference to her London season caused Daniel to suspect that Mrs Hawthorne had other, loftier ambitions for her daughter … ambitions that remained, and would probably continue to remain, unfulfilled. As for the lady’s own ambitions … he couldn’t decide what they were, although he got the impression that her only passion was the porcelain factory. Cynically, he wondered how long it would be before she asked to see the scent bottles.

In the drawing-room, leaving Rebecca to fill what might otherwise have been an awkward silence whilst pouring the tea, he watched Miss Hawthorne without appearing to do so. The mid-brown hair was neatly but not elaborately dressed; her only jewellery was a string of very fine pearls; and the lilac silk evening gown, devoid of all trimming, was discreet enough to pass for half-mourning. Did she always dress so conservatively? Had her wardrobe been chosen for what she’d expected to be a visit to an elderly viscount? Or did she eschew frills and furbelows for the same reason she’d stayed in black longer than was strictly necessary? The need to appear capable .

He waited until Rebecca had finished fussing with the tea things before entering the conversation with a question which might, if he allowed it to do so, lead in an inflammatory direction.

‘Your assistant, Mrs Thompson … I understand she is one of your senior painters. Do you employ many women?’

‘Yes. Approximately a third of our entire workforce is female … as are over half of our painters.’

‘Interesting. Is there any reason for that?’

Anna’s brows rose. ‘They are suited to the work and good at what they do.’

‘So … not because women are cheaper to employ?’

Far from annoying her, this won him a small but genuine smile.

‘No – because, at Hawthorne’s, they aren’t.’

Faintly taken aback as much by the smile as by her words, Daniel said, ‘You pay the women the same as you pay the men?’

‘If they’re doing the same job, yes. We always have. There are differences in the wage structure throughout the company, of course – but those are based on the level of skill or physical abilities required in the various areas, not on whether a worker is male or female.’ She shrugged. ‘We like to keep our people, my lord. We don’t want them cutting their teeth with us, then taking their talent and experience elsewhere. So we pay them fairly and look after them.’

‘Look after them in what way?’ he asked.

‘All sorts of ways.’ Happy to be on more familiar ground, Anna allowed herself to relax. ‘The areas prone to fumes or dust are kept well-ventilated. The rooms where fine work is done have good light from north-facing windows. The men who work with the kilns are supplied with boots and protective clothing to shield them from the heat.’ She paused and, as if finally hitting her stride, added, ‘Then there are the more general things. Throughout cold weather, three of our employees’ wives cook and serve hot meals on the premises. The workers pay two pence for a plate, the labour and ingredients for which cost around sixpence and the company bears the difference. In the case of illness, we offer assistance. We even have a system in place to provide child care if necessary.’ She paused again, spreading expressive hands. ‘Some of these things, such as adequate light and ventilation have been in place since my father founded the company. Others began as experiments which proved successful enough to be worth making standard practice.’ And with the merest suggestion of a shrug, ‘As I said, we look after our people.’

‘So you do.’ It was Rebecca who spoke. ‘It’s … impressive.’

‘It’s more than that,’ said Daniel dryly. ‘It’s unheard of and bordering on revolutionary. One wonders what your business rivals make of it.’

‘That is up to them.’

‘Indeed.’ He surveyed her thoughtfully. All the time she’d been speaking, animation had brought a touch of colour to her cheeks and a spark to her eyes. Having got her talking and in order to work his way around to a particular point, he said, ‘If it isn’t out of place, may I ask why the items purchased by my father are of particular interest to you?’

‘Because of the visitors.’

‘The visitors?’ echoed Rebecca, unwittingly helping him out.

Anna nodded. ‘During the last two summers, Mr Lowe and I have become aware of an increasing number of people asking to tour the manufactory. It’s not just Hawthorne’s, you understand. Spode, Derby and Wedgwood are all experiencing the same thing – as, I believe, are the cotton and woollen mills of the north. Apparently, seeing how things are made is becoming a popular pastime. So we thought to offer an additional attraction in the form of an exhibition showcasing the very best of Hawthorne ware over the years. And it occurred to us that your late father’s collection would make a splendid addition to that.’

‘Why?’ asked Daniel. ‘Doesn’t the manufactory keep examples of everything it makes – or at least have the ability to recreate it?’

‘Not in the case of the limited edition pieces. Six of each design are hand-made by the same craftsman … and of those six, no two are identical. Each has some small, unique detail of its own. It’s that which makes them so sought after.’

‘I’m sure. But why our father’s collection specifically?’ asked Daniel, his mild tone giving no indication of the trap he was preparing.

‘All the scent bottles in it were designed by my father,’ she replied proudly. ‘Many of them were also made by him in earlier years and those are irreplaceable.’

‘I see. And this isn’t true of any of the other collectors who buy from you?’

‘It’s true of some. But none of them are currently – ’ She stopped abruptly, aghast at what she’d been about to say.

‘None of the others might currently consider selling?’ he asked gently. And then, after a brief, uncomfortable pause, ‘It’s alright, Miss Hawthorne. I won’t ask how or from whom you learned that I might be open to offers. Since you are here to value the collection, the way in which that came about is of little consequence now, is it?’

‘No.’ The damage having already been done and deciding that her best course was to brazen it out, Anna said crisply, ‘Very well, sir. Since we are speaking plainly … the whisper that reached us has not and will not be passed on elsewhere. But, from it, Mr Lowe and I deduced that, if you were interested in selling, it was possible – even likely – that you would prefer to do so discreetly and might therefore consider Hawthorne’s rather than a public auction. Were we correct?’

His brows rising slightly, Daniel thought, You really do favour the direct approach, don’t you? Fortunately, two can play at that game.

‘Yes. But don’t also conclude that my preference for discretion will enable you to buy the collection at the lowest possible price,’ returned Daniel pleasantly. ‘It won’t.’

Angry at her own mistake and angrier still with him for exploiting it, Anna stood up. ‘Then we understand each other, my lord. I take it that the pieces will be ready for Mrs Thompson and me to begin work first thing tomorrow?’

‘They already are. Flynn will conduct you to the formal dining-room where you will have space and be free from interruptions.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave a jerky nod first to Rebecca and then to the viscount. ‘Good night, Miss Shelbourne … my lord.’ And stalked out.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rebecca said, ‘That was wicked of you. I scarcely knew where to look.’

‘The gloves were bound to come off at some point,’ he replied. ‘Better now than later, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so – though you might have been a bit more subtle about it.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Becky, that lady is about as subtle as a mallet to the head. She has no idea how to make trivial conversation and is only comfortable talking about business. It’s scarcely surprising that her London season wasn’t a howling success.’

‘How do you know it wasn’t?’ she countered.

‘From her tone when she mentioned it. That and the fact that it hasn’t been repeated despite clearly failing to achieve the usual result. She’s not married, after all. And she must be – what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?’

With a slight shake of her head, Rebecca came to her feet. She said, ‘I don’t think I like you very much in this mood, Daniel.’

In truth, he wasn’t sure he liked himself much either. But if he was to drag his family out of the pit it was in, he’d better start getting used to that. He said, ‘Go, then.’ And with a slightly twisted smile, ‘Say goodnight to Mama for me.’

***

Anna lay awake replaying that final, disastrous conversation over and over in her mind and thinking of at least six ways she could have taken it in a different direction. Then, abandoning this before she became so agitated that she’d lie awake all night, she contemplated the really maddening thing about Lord blasted Reculver; his ability to cut the ground from beneath one’s feet with a smile and in such a pleasant tone that one didn’t realise what he was doing until it was too late. The man was dangerous.

Well, she knew that now, didn’t she? Enough not to make the mistake of taking him at face value in future.

Try that again, my lord , she thought grimly , and I’ll be ready for you. As for what I’ll pay for your father’s collection … I’ll offer the going rate and not a farthing more. And if you need to sell – which, given that this house is woefully understaffed, it seems that you do – you either take it or advertise your empty pockets to the world by going to auction .

Yes , Anna assured herself. That’s more like it.

And she would not – absolutely would not let his image creep into her mind. Just because everything about him from the thick auburn hair to the dramatic cheekbones and the merest hint of a cleft in his chin made her want to look and go on looking … she would not think about any of it.

Daniel Shelbourne, Lord Devious Reculver was a devil in disguise. And if she forgot that for a minute, there was no saying what folly she might end up committing.

~**~**~