Innocence (9 page)

“Would you like me to leave? I’ve not yet finished cleaning the library, but I can come back later.”

“No, I’ll leave, but I don’t want you working alone in future, is that clear?”

Her mouth fell open.
 

“That’s hardly necessary, my lord. I’m quite capable of staying away from you and have no need of supervision.”

Nathaniel took a step towards her. “You will
not
work alone for your
own
protection.
I
will stay away from
you
.”
 

With that he turned and stalked from the library, leaving Lisa staring after him, thoroughly confused.

Chapter 8

The Pastry Chef

“Your chocolate pastries have been a great success.” Chef Peters approached where Lisa was sitting icing a batch of petit fours a few days later. As a result of her encounter with Nathaniel, she had been assigned to work permanently in the kitchen, a place where she would never be alone. Heartily sick of cleaning, she was not displeased by the outcome.

After Nathaniel had left her in the library, Lisa had set aside her anger and gone in search of the French language section. Refusing to be distracted at discovering so many of her favourite authors amongst the wonderful collection, she had located a journal of French recipes. Without paper or writing utensils, she had been limited to memorising ingredients for just a couple of dishes. She was pleased the chocolate pastries—or
pain au chocolat
, as they were called in France—generated a positive response.
 

“I’m glad they’ve been appreciated.” Lisa smiled shyly. Not having to hide the fact she enjoyed creating culinary delights was one of the very few benefits she had discovered to masquerading as a servant.

“They’ve been more than appreciated. The marquis himself has asked to meet the new pastry chef and pay his compliments in person,” the chef added, and her smile faded.
 

“I think it might be best if you went in my place,” she said.
 

“I’m not about to take credit for your work.” Chef Peters frowned. “And I don’t fancy sending word to the marquis that you refused his invitation. I don’t expect he’d be at all pleased.”

Lisa removed her apron with a sigh. She didn’t expect he would be pleased either way. With no other choice, she made her way to Nathaniel’s study, a tray of recently baked pastries in her hand. He was seated at his desk, his head bent over a pile of papers on his desk, and his quill moving rapidly.
 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” he said after a footman announced her arrival, and Lisa took the opportunity to admire the view. She particularly liked the way his dark hair curled a little behind his ears and the contrast between his snowy white cravat and the warm tone of his skin.
 

When he looked up, his eyebrows rose. “What are
you
doing here?”
 

“You asked to see me, my lord.” She raised the tray holding the plate of pastries.

“I asked to see the new
pastry chef
. Would you care to explain why you’re here in his stead?”
 

“Because I
am
the new pastry chef, my lord. Well, I’m not a
real
chef, but I baked the chocolate pastries you liked.”
 

Nathaniel stared at her for a moment before dismissing the footman who shut the door with a decisive click. Lisa jumped, rattling the tray.

“You may as well join me.” Nathaniel gestured to where a silver tea service sat on a low table. After walking stiffly across the room, Lisa placed the pastries beside the tea service,
without
rattling the tray this time. When she looked up, he had angled his chair away from the desk and stretched his legs out before him, the fingers of one hand drumming on the crowded desktop.

“I’ve been trying very hard to do the right thing, but it would seem fate is conspiring against me,” he said cryptically.
 

Rising, he came to stand on the other side of the low table, eyeing the pastries with a bemused expression.

“
You
baked these?”
 

Lisa nodded.

“And the profiteroles? The
crème brulee
?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said at his mention of the other dishes she had baked and been credited with, not by name, of course.

“Mmm.” Nathaniel took a seat on a long, leather couch. “Your
French
mother brought her
French
chef with her when she came to England to marry your commoner father. While a lady would never consider participating in such a plebeian activity, a girl of your station was not so hindered and took the opportunity to learn an admirable trade.”

“Precisely, my lord.” Lisa stiffened at the backhanded compliment.
 

“You are a constant source of surprise,” he said, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
 

She wasn’t sure if the words were meant as compliment or rebuke, and failed in her attempts not to fidget.

“What am I going to do with you?” He looked up at her through his long lashes. “Succumbing to temptation is beginning to feel inevitable. One can only resist for so long.”

When he gestured for her to take a seat, she frowned. It wasn’t done in a household of this standing for servants to socialise with their masters. Even minor households held staunchly to segregation based on class and station, though her father had allowed the lines to blur.
 

“Come, Lisa, sit. It would appear at least
some
rules will be broken. Best we begin with the innocuous ones, don’t you think?”

Obeying, she perched on the edge of the seat, her hands placed demurely in her lap.
 

“Would you like me to pour your tea, my lord?” she asked when he had stared at her for so long the urge to resume fidgeting was overwhelming.

The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. “Can you manage without scalding yourself?”

Lisa blushed. She had been practising but wasn’t about to admit it, merely nodding her assent.
 

“I’ve a great many questions where you’re concerned,” he continued. “Maybe receiving some answers will assuage my interest.”
 

Her blush deepened at his words.
 

“But I doubt it,” he muttered beneath his breath.
 

“What would you like to know, my lord?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically breathy. Nathaniel’s interest was both perplexing and exhilarating.

“What would I like to know?” He sat back. “Do you have other talents besides baking and bringing impertinent young footmen to their knees? What’s your favourite colour, flower? You mentioned receiving an education. Do you have a favourite author? Tell me everything.”

A nervous laugh escaped Lisa’s lips. Admitting to being an accomplished horsewoman didn’t seem wise, as she doubted many maids received the opportunity to learn to ride, certainly not side-saddle, the acceptable mode for ladies of the
ton
.
 

“I like to sketch,” she offered cautiously.

“Your creativity extends beyond the culinary arts.” Nathaniel nodded. “Do you also paint? Oils? Watercolours?”

Lisa had more experience with watercolours than oils but was fairly certain neither options would have been accessible to a girl working in an inn. “Just pencil, charcoal, and occasionally ink.”

“And what do you like to sketch? Still life, landscapes?”

“Portraits, mostly. People and animals. It’s called life drawing,” she said and then snapped her mouth shut, worried her knowledge of the subject was too unlikely for a maid.

“I’d very much like to see some of your work, if I may?” he asked, seeming unperturbed by her disclosures.

Lisa shrugged and then tensed before shrugging again. Young ladies were not supposed to shrug. Miss Brewer would have been appalled by her lack of decorum, well . . . that and the fact she was conversing alone with a gentleman in a room with a closed door. Relatively speaking, shrugging was a minor impropriety.

“I wasn’t able to bring many possessions with me when I left home,” she said. “I haven’t done any drawings since arriving at Worthington Hall, as I have no access to paper or pens.”
 

And absolutely no time or energy to indulge in a hobby with the hours I work,
she thought wryly, but kept that piece of information to herself.

Nathaniel stood and strode to a cupboard against the wall. Rummaging in the drawers, he returned with a pile of paper and an assortment of pencils, charcoals, pens, inks, and the like.

“There, that should get you started.” He placed the material on the table, pushing it towards Lisa who stared at it, nonplussed.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift, my lord. I don’t have the time or anywhere to store and use them.”

“What about during the evenings in your room or on your days off?”

Lisa resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at his limited knowledge regarding the living arrangements and working conditions of the staff that served him.
 

“I share a very small attic room with two other girls, and I’m generally too tired to do anything but sleep when I reach it quite late at night, my lord. I get half a day off a week, but so far all I’ve managed during my free time is to take care of personal chores and catch up on some rest.”
 

Nathaniel frowned. “How
inconvenient
.”

Wanting to lighten the mood, as drawing attention to her lack of endurance as a servant didn’t seem wise, Lisa answered his earlier questions.“So my ‘talents,’ if you can describe them thus, are baking, drawing, and defending one’s person under limited circumstances.” She listed the items off on her fingers. “To which I can now add pouring hot tea. I prefer bright colours, and as to my favourite blossoms, I like roses, chrysanthemums, poppies, daffodils. Flowers in general, I suppose.” Pleased by his smile, she returned it shyly. “When it comes to authors, the list of my favourites is long and eclectic.”

“What about siblings, family? Have you no one with your parents gone?”
 

Her smile faded.
 

“My mother and father were both only children, so I’ve no aunts or uncles. Mama died giving birth to my baby brother when I was just a girl. He only lived a few days.”
 

Tears stung briefly at her eyes, and she blinked them away. Things would have been very different if her brother had lived. Deprived of the potential to gain an early inheritance, Lord Copeland would have had no reason to force his unwelcome presence into their lives.

“Come.” Nathaniel stood, and extended his free hand. It took Lisa a moment to comprehend he wanted her to take it, and she did so hesitantly. When he walked to a door on the far side of the room to the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder.
 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble.” He led her past a large sitting room and a masculine-looking bedroom, adding at her curious look, “These are my quarters when I stay at Worthington Hall,” he added at her curious look.

“Oh.” Lisa didn't know what else to say. Walking hand-in-hand with a gentleman was not allowed, let alone entering his private quarters. Fearing these actions must surely constitute lascivious behaviour, she was about to question his intentions when they emerged in the hallway that led to the library.

“There’s a sitting room over there where you can set up a studio for drawing and painting, if you’d like to try it.” Nathaniel pointed to a door almost hidden in a corner of the vast room. “It’s rarely used, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

“A studio?” She frowned. So much for avoiding undue attention. “But, my lord . . .”

Ignoring her interruption, he began to pull various books from the shelves.

“These should give you some inspiration.” He crossed to a table and spread out the tomes, motioning her closer. “My father keeps a collection of the latest anatomy volumes, as well as works on all the great artists, not to mention housing one of the best private collections of artworks in the country. Then there are the family portraits,” he added wryly. “Can’t turn around in this mausoleum without coming face-to-face with one of the ancestors.”

Walking slowly to the table, Lisa stood beside him.

“But I don’t have time to indulge a hobby. I have
duties
, my lord.”

“Yes, well. Something needs to be done about that. You’re clearly being worked too hard.”

“No more than any other servant.” She spread her hands, and Nathaniel frowned.
 

“Wouldn’t you appreciate a few hours off each day to relax and pursue an interest?”

More than you can imagine
, she thought wearily. A mere month had passed since she had been forced to leave her home, but it felt like she’d been working from before dawn till after dusk for much longer. The Duke of Worthington might provide better than average working conditions for his staff, but Lisa felt utterly overwhelmed most of the time. Gently caressing the cover of a book containing illustrations by the great masters, she noted its similarity to one she had pored over with her art tutor, Master Gregson.