girls seated at tables, working on some stitchery, Ellie crossed the space towards the small room she used as an office. Laid out on the desk were several envelopes—that looked very much like bills.
She took a seat and opened them, confirming with a sigh that they were indeed invoices for coal, porridge, thread, and candles. Having gone from her mother’s house to her protector’s, she had little experience of the various and sundry expenses involved in running a household. She kept discovering, to her dismay, how many more of them there were than she’d anticipated.
Pushing away the unpleasant realisation of how quickly she was going through the sum Lord Witlow had invested in the school, she told herself they would manage somehow. After she finished with the bills and checked on the students, she would go out again and purchase some cloth. The two new girls she’d taken in yesterday, both children raised in brothels, needed more suitable clothing. She meant to use Witlow’s funds as prudently as possible, and it would be cheaper to buy the material to make up the gowns.
Besides, Lucy had expressed an interest in learning the dressmaker’s art. With time and training, she could perhaps be found a place with a modiste—especially if Lady Lyndlington gave her a recommendation.
All the wives of Christopher’s closest friends, the Hellions, were uncommonly gracious. After she’d responded to his plea for help and located the girl involved in the plot to discredit Ben Tawny, they’d insisted on having her dine with them so they might thank her personally.
She wouldn’t have admitted it to Christopher, or even to his mother, but she would have been willing to do nearly anything he asked of her.
What an arresting figure he’d made today, the sunlight streaming through the gauze-curtained windows silhouetting his tall, muscled body, shimmering on his dark gold hair and highlighting the sparkle of those deep turquoise eyes!
She chuckled, remembering the quizzical twist of his lip as he protested his mama mocking his intention to marry, even as that aim sent a pang to her heart. His hold on her affections went far deeper than admiration for his handsome face and virile body, or the zing of attraction she felt whenever he came near. She would never forget, nor could she adequately repay him, for the unfailing kindness, sympathy and respect with which he always treated her, especially at the darkest moment of her life.
Just as well that he was set on wedding a proper young miss. Now that she was finally free of her obligation to Summerville, she didn’t intend to become any man’s mistress ever again. That firm resolve, however, might waver—if Christopher were the one offering her carte blanche.
Shaking her head at her foolishness, she told herself she mustn’t even consider becoming more to Christopher Lattimar than a casual friend. It would be too great an irony if she agreed to a disreputable liaison with the one gentleman who’d always treated her like a lady, despite her position.
Besides, even if he should crook his finger and she were not strong enough to refuse him, such a relationship would only be temporary. How could she bear to have the warmth and courtesy he now showed her turn to polite disinterest, or worse yet, disdain, when he tired of her, as men always did of their mistresses?
Naturally, with him showing her kindness and respect at such a low point in her life, she’d fallen immediately into infatuation, seeing him as some sort of Knight in Shining Armour. But she was no longer an innocent eighteen-year-old, wrenched from home, family and all that was familiar and forced into a degrading role.
She smiled wryly. If Christopher could reform the rake, perhaps she could remake the romantic girl she’d been. Put those nostalgic fancies behind her and, now that her life was finally her own, turn herself into a sensible, mature woman. She had a few loyal friends like Felicia and important work in helping destitute young women build better lives to keep her occupied.
Having Christopher marry would end their friendship as effectively as if she were his cast-off mistress, she suddenly realised.
She was struggling to resist the wave of desolation that cruel thought produced when Jensen poked his head in the door. ‘There’s a man to see you, miss. Says he’s from the landlord.’
‘I suppose I shall have to receive him.’ Gathering up the bills and thrusting them into the drawer, she said, ‘Very well, show him in, Jensen.’
A few minutes later, a short, trim gentleman strolled in. After sketching a bow, he said, ‘I’m Wilson, Miss Parmenter, agent for your landlord. Mr Anderson sent me to inform you that, the preliminary portion of your lease being up, as of your next payment, your rent will be going up five pounds a month.’
‘Five pounds a month?’ After rapidly figuring the percentage in her head, she exclaimed, ‘That’s a ridiculously high increase! Besides, the term of the lease was a year. He cannot raise the rent before the end of the term.’
Wilson shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know about that, miss. I just knows he sent me to warn you that he expects the new amount to be paid when next it’s due, lessen he take steps to get you evicted.’
Anger coloured her distress. ‘I’m quite certain that your employer has no legal right to arbitrarily increase the rent.’
‘I suppose you could talk to him, but dunno he’d change his mind. I know the bailiffs won’t listen, if he sets them to throwing you out. Happen it be better if you just pay the increase, like he says.’
‘Happen he is trying to coerce me into paying something I don’t owe,’ she snapped back angrily. The lease didn’t allow for an interim increase—did it? Surely she would have noticed if the landlord were allowed to make such an adjustment.
‘Wouldn’t risk it, were it me, ma’am. Lettin’ all them girls get put out into the street, with no place to go? Up to you, though.’
How could she determine for sure whether or not the threat was genuine? How could she keep the school going, if she had to pay so much higher a rent in addition to all the other bills?
Worry might be tightening her chest, but she didn’t intend for this vile little man to glimpse her agitation. Schooling her face to calm, she rose in dismissal. ‘Very well, you’ve delivered your message. You may tell your employer that I have no intention of increasing my payment, and I very much resent his attempt to extort a higher sum from me. Good day, sir.’
A little smirk on his face, as if he knew she was bluffing, Wilson said, ‘I’d think Mr Anderson’s warning over careful. Hard life for them girls, out on the street.’
With that parting shot, he ambled out.
As if she didn’t know just how hard such a life was, she thought, sinking back into her chair. Opening the bottom desk drawer, she rifled through until she found the copy of her lease.
Full of excitement at beginning the project so dear to her, she’d not paid much attention to the lengthy list of terms and conditions. She scanned it now, trying to make sense out of the stylised legal phrasing.
So absorbed was she in trying to decode the document, she only nodded distractedly when Jensen announced she had a visitor. Until a large masculine hand that did not belong to Jensen planted itself beside hers on the desk.
She looked up then, to see Christopher Lattimar smiling down at her. She sucked in a breath, surprise—and a heated awareness—making her nerves tingle.
‘I might expect such rapt attention being given to a racy novel,’ he said, ‘but some dull legal document?’ Then, as he gazed at her, the teasing smile faded. ‘Something is troubling you, Ellie. What is it? And how can I help?’
There seemed little point in denying she was upset. ‘Yes, I am...disturbed,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s nothing that should concern you. How delightful to see you again! Will you take some tea? And what can I do for you?’
‘I would love some tea,’ he replied, taking the chair she indicated. ‘And nothing in particular. Your enthusiasm when you described your school for Mama made me curious to see it, that’s all. But I do wish you would tell me what’s wrong.