Page 8 of My Favorite Mistake
Which just went to show that she was on dangerous ground and imagining things that weren’t there. She cleared her throat. “I’m lady’s maid to Lady Findley.”
“Then you’re over at Daryngton Hall.”
“That’s right.”
She made for a nearby sausage stand, and he pulled her to the left. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Not that one. It’s Mrs. Davies who makes the best sausages in Birchington-on-Sea. This way.”
His breath had a trace of cinnamon, spicy and delicious, just like the rest of him, and Fanny shivered as it caressed her ear. Oh, but he was dangerous. This was a terrible idea, spending the day with this man. She knew full well he was toying with her, and if she thought she was pining after him now, wait until she’d spent six hours staring at his handsome face, walking around with his deliciously sculpted arm entwined with hers, and listening to him whisper flirty nonsense in her ear!
She needed to maintain some distance, so she jabbed him with her elbow. “You look ridiculous, you know. Carrying that thing.” She nodded toward the parasol lying against his shoulder.
“I expect you’re right. Here.” He swung the parasol down and pressed it into her hands before she could refuse. “Why don’t you carry it for me?”
Well, this had gone from bad to worse. She tried to pretend this was just an ordinary parasol and not her very heart’s desire and made a point to keep it closed, propped against her shoulder.
Nick was having none of it.
“Open it up.” When she made no move to comply, he reached over and did it for her. “Come on, now, let’s see how you look with it. Give it a twirl.”
Fanny couldn’t resist doing just that, andoh, if that yellow parasol didn’t feel perfect in her hand! Without meaning to do it she found herself swinging it around and striking a pose. Realizing herself, she cut her eyes back to Nick but found him smiling at her, a real smile, not his usual smirk.
“It suits you,” he said simply, then took her arm again. “Now, about those sausages…”
And so, Fanny spent the day with Nick Cradduck. She helped him pick four additional gifts for his “sister”—two lengths of ribbon, a teardrop pearl pendant, and a pair of white kidskin gloves that Nick insisted would fit their intended recipient because, “her hands are ’bout the same size as yours.”
He bought them oysters on bread for lunch, and they took them to a spot on the white chalk cliffs overlooking the sea. By this time, Fanny found herself relaxing in Nick’s company. Oh, he was a bit of a scoundrel, as she’d suspected all along, but the truth was, shelikedscoundrels, and she didn’t mind his lewd jokes any more than he seemed to mind it when she cut him down to size. After a week of pretending to be prim and proper for her sanctimonious employer, it was a relief to find someone she could actually talk to.
And something about the knowledge that Nick was already spoken for, the certainty that she hadn’t a chance in the world with this man, made Fanny drop her guard. She found herself telling him all manner of things she would never tell a man she hoped to impress, such as all about the fellow who’d been half-heartedly courting her back home in Faversham. Peter was a bit of a cad and didn’t appreciate her nearly as much as she deserved, and Fanny wasn’t too bashful to say as much. She wasn’t all that broken up when she had to leave town.
This was nothing earth-shattering, although she obviously wouldn’t have told it to a man who might be interested in her. But then, something truly strange happened—Nick Cradduck was so easy to talk to, she found herself telling him about her father’s accident!
“He’s always had a touch of sciatica. But then he fell off a ladder during the cherry harvest, and it’s been a hundred times worse. There are days he can’t even get out of bed. My little sister, Mary, and I both had to go into service to keep food on the table.”
He was lounging on his side, propped up on one elbow, stroking a stalk of sea grass he’d plucked from the sand. “Do you not have any brothers, then?”
“No, it’s just me and Mary. It’s actually the reason I came here.” At his curious look, she continued, “I’d been working as a housemaid, ya see. But a lady’s maid makes twice as much. So, when I got the chance to move up, I felt like I had to take it, even though it meant leaving Faversham.”
He came up to sit cross-legged, his grey eyes steady on hers. “You’re supporting your whole family, then?”
“Well… no. My sister Mary works as a housemaid. Mama takes in some sewing. And Papa gets a little support from the parish.”
“But you’re providing, what? It has to be more than half of your family’s upkeep.”
Fanny bit her lip. “I suppose I am.”
This was why she was loath to discuss her father’s injury, at least on such a short acquaintance. Supposing a young man did find her appealing—nothing would douse his budding interest quicker than finding out that Fanny came with a father who couldn’t work.
Because that meant she had a family that any man she married would be expected to support.
Not that it mattered. She knew full well Nick Cradduck wasn’t really taken with her. But it was an awkward thing to admit, all the same.
He was just sitting there, studying her. Gone were the wicked gleam and the rakish grin he’d sported for most of the afternoon. Fanny thought herself pretty good at reading people, but try as she might, she had no idea what he was thinking behind those storm-grey eyes.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat. “I should probably be getting back.”
He stood quickly, offering his hand to help her up. “I’ll walk you home.”
Fanny managed to fill the short trip home with inane chatter, asking him about the sights they passed along the way.
