your day off or you’re new and haven’t yet received your livery.”
Caddy straightened. “I am no maid. I am Miss Buchanan’s seamstress, and as such, I know you will be a gentleman and let me pass.”
Thick brows hooded blue eyes, and the man leaned closer. “Me? A gentleman?” His arm snaked around her waist, pushing the bundled gown out of the way. “Not until I have to be, which is after my father dies and I inherit the title and estate. Not until I am called Sir will I need to behave like a gentleman.”
He lowered his head toward her. Caddy turned hers, and his lips landed just beside her ear. He chuckled, his hot breath searing fear into her soul.
“Mr. . . . I am sorry, I did not catch your name.” Caddy struggled to keep her breathing slow and even so as not to let him know how much he frightened her. Fear only made men like him feel more powerful.
“Doncroft.” He kissed the side of her neck just below her earlobe. “Reginald Doncroft.”
“Mr. Doncroft.” Caddy felt for the edge of the step with her toe. If she could get below him, she could likely escape. “I am flattered by your attention; however, if it were to get out that I had an assignation in the back stairs of Wakesdown Manor, I would lose the custom of the Buchanans and with it much of my livelihood. You would not want that to happen to me, would you?”
His grip around her waist loosened. That was it, her chance. She stepped down, pulling the bundle around so that it formed a barrier, albeit a weak one, between them. “Good day, Mr. Doncroft.” She turned and ran down the remainder of the stairs, not slowing until she reached the bottom and stepped out into a footman’s path.
“I beg your pardon.” She sidestepped and swept the gown out of his way to keep from upsetting the large tea tray he carried.
Footsteps clattering on the stairs behind jolted her as if she’d just sat on a pin, and she hurried out through the kitchens to the waiting hackney.
Thomas Longrieve reached for the bundle—but instead, his hands settled on Caddy’s shoulders. “Are you unwell, miss? You look as if you have the devil himself on your tail.”
Caddy calmed her breathing and smiled at the cab driver. “I am fine, thank you.” She stole a glance at the door and, seeing a shadow of movement, thrust the wrapped gown into the coach and climbed in behind it before Thomas could assist her. Alice looked askance at her late arrival, but Caddy shook her head and climbed in so they could be on their way.
She shuddered thinking what might have happened had Mr. Doncroft come across Alice in the stairwell. Though only fifteen, Alice had the look of a woman three to five years older, and she enjoyed flirting with the young men who made deliveries for the greengrocer and the apothecary.
Once back at the shop, Caddy sent Alice inside with the gown. She pulled several coins from her pocket and pressed them into Thomas Longrieve’s rough palm. “Thank you for letting me hire you for the full day. I know you could have made much more than what we agreed on from your regular fares in the city.”
He looked down at the money and tried to hand half of them back to her. “This is far too generous, Miss Bainbridge.”
She stepped back from him, refusing to take the money back. “I had a good day today, Thomas. Please, let me do the same for you.”
The cab driver, probably only ten or fifteen years her senior, swallowed hard and wrapped his thick fingers around the coins. “Bless you, miss. With the new baby . . . well, this is much appreciated. And you know if you ever need anything, you only need to send word by my boy Johnny and we’ll do whatever we can for you.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. Good night, Mr. Longrieve.”
He tipped his tall hat to her. “Good night, Miss Bainbridge.”
Caddy gave him the brightest smile she could muster then waited until he’d climbed up on his high seat and driven away before entering the shop.
Upstairs,
Caddy straightened. “I am no maid. I am Miss Buchanan’s seamstress, and as such, I know you will be a gentleman and let me pass.”
Thick brows hooded blue eyes, and the man leaned closer. “Me? A gentleman?” His arm snaked around her waist, pushing the bundled gown out of the way. “Not until I have to be, which is after my father dies and I inherit the title and estate. Not until I am called Sir will I need to behave like a gentleman.”
He lowered his head toward her. Caddy turned hers, and his lips landed just beside her ear. He chuckled, his hot breath searing fear into her soul.
“Mr. . . . I am sorry, I did not catch your name.” Caddy struggled to keep her breathing slow and even so as not to let him know how much he frightened her. Fear only made men like him feel more powerful.
“Doncroft.” He kissed the side of her neck just below her earlobe. “Reginald Doncroft.”
“Mr. Doncroft.” Caddy felt for the edge of the step with her toe. If she could get below him, she could likely escape. “I am flattered by your attention; however, if it were to get out that I had an assignation in the back stairs of Wakesdown Manor, I would lose the custom of the Buchanans and with it much of my livelihood. You would not want that to happen to me, would you?”
His grip around her waist loosened. That was it, her chance. She stepped down, pulling the bundle around so that it formed a barrier, albeit a weak one, between them. “Good day, Mr. Doncroft.” She turned and ran down the remainder of the stairs, not slowing until she reached the bottom and stepped out into a footman’s path.
“I beg your pardon.” She sidestepped and swept the gown out of his way to keep from upsetting the large tea tray he carried.
Footsteps clattering on the stairs behind jolted her as if she’d just sat on a pin, and she hurried out through the kitchens to the waiting hackney.
Thomas Longrieve reached for the bundle—but instead, his hands settled on Caddy’s shoulders. “Are you unwell, miss? You look as if you have the devil himself on your tail.”
Caddy calmed her breathing and smiled at the cab driver. “I am fine, thank you.” She stole a glance at the door and, seeing a shadow of movement, thrust the wrapped gown into the coach and climbed in behind it before Thomas could assist her. Alice looked askance at her late arrival, but Caddy shook her head and climbed in so they could be on their way.
She shuddered thinking what might have happened had Mr. Doncroft come across Alice in the stairwell. Though only fifteen, Alice had the look of a woman three to five years older, and she enjoyed flirting with the young men who made deliveries for the greengrocer and the apothecary.
Once back at the shop, Caddy sent Alice inside with the gown. She pulled several coins from her pocket and pressed them into Thomas Longrieve’s rough palm. “Thank you for letting me hire you for the full day. I know you could have made much more than what we agreed on from your regular fares in the city.”
He looked down at the money and tried to hand half of them back to her. “This is far too generous, Miss Bainbridge.”
She stepped back from him, refusing to take the money back. “I had a good day today, Thomas. Please, let me do the same for you.”
The cab driver, probably only ten or fifteen years her senior, swallowed hard and wrapped his thick fingers around the coins. “Bless you, miss. With the new baby . . . well, this is much appreciated. And you know if you ever need anything, you only need to send word by my boy Johnny and we’ll do whatever we can for you.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. Good night, Mr. Longrieve.”
He tipped his tall hat to her. “Good night, Miss Bainbridge.”
Caddy gave him the brightest smile she could muster then waited until he’d climbed up on his high seat and driven away before entering the shop.
Upstairs,
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