them on a chair. She ran her fingers over the surface of the beautiful dressing chest and the matching writing table and chair, bending to sniff the roses, which gave off a wonderful perfume. She could not quite believe her good fortune.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she thought about her extraordinary day yesterday. First the hold-up that was not truly a hold-up at all since the highwayman had turned out to be a man she had previously met and was clearly not very skilled at his work. A little smile touched her mouth as she remembered his kiss and her quite inappropriate feelings.
How foolish she was to feel such a strong attraction to a man who would never mean anything to her. She had been very fortunate in securing such a comfortable position and must do nothing to jeopardise her good fortune. If she saw Mr Seaton again, she would be sure to keep her distance, but it was unlikely that he would come to Bath.
And even more unlikely that he would be interested in a mere companion. A man as well connected as Daniel would surely have no trouble attracting a suitable wife. Yet his smile, his concern for her when he knocked her down, the feeling she had when he kissed her, would linger in her mind.
Daniel frowned at himself in the mirror. It would appear that he had made a fool of himself by holding up Cheadle’s carriage. Eliza had travelled alone and was adamant that she was going to be the companion of a lady in Bath. He had felt foolish and angry, and that kiss had been unwise because he had not been able to get her out of his mind since.
An interview with his bank in Bath had revealed that his finances were, if anything, worse than he had imagined. Even if he were prepared to live like a miser and work all the hours of the day and night, he was not sure that he could hang on to the estate. His mind should be focused on his own problems—and his cousin’s death. He could not afford to be thinking of a girl with eyes that made him want to kiss her senseless.
He had come to Bath to hear the worst, but also in search of Cheadle, whom he’d learned was due to stay here. It would be his chance to bargain for the ring and see if he could get anything of worth out of him—and he did not mean money, though the ten thousand his father had lost to the marquis was the cause of his immediate problems.
He had not come to Bath to discover if Miss Eliza Bancroft had been telling him the truth. If they were to meet that would be by the way and of no importance. It would be quite ridiculous if he were to allow himself to be distracted by that impish smile of hers. Quite ridiculous and impossible.
If he were sensible, he would try to find an heiress to marry him, as his uncle had suggested. The notion did not sit well with him, but short of taking up a life on the road he could think of nothing else that would produce enough money to pay those damned mortgages.
Susanne Roberts had been giving him suggestive looks in town when he visited earlier in the Season. He had stayed well clear because he could not imagine himself being tied to such a silly girl. However, beggars could not be choosers. He might bring himself to the point of asking if he could put the memory of Eliza Bancroft’s tantalising mouth from his head.
He had an invitation to dine with the Roberts family in Bath that evening—and it would do no harm to keep the appointment.
‘That lilac silk becomes you well,’ Lady Sarah said as Eliza twirled for her, holding the silk draped across her body. ‘Yes, I like it—and the grey is perfect for small evening affairs. However, you will need a ballgown or perhaps two—and I think you should have white. You may trim them with delicate touches of black lace if you wish, but I think white is perfectly acceptable—do you not agree, Madame Millaise?’
The seamstress nodded her approval. ‘I do not think anyone would take exception to it, milady,’ she said, her accent markedly French despite her excellent grasp of the English language. ‘A discreet touch of black is all that is needed to make it perfectly respectable, non?’ She looked at Eliza, as if asking a question.
Eliza hesitated, waiting for her employer to speak.
‘Yes, that is my opinion. What do you think, Eliza, my dear?’
‘I will be advised by you and madame,’ Eliza said, feeling anxious as she looked at the growing pile of silks her employer seemed to feel she needed. ‘Mama particularly told me she did not wish me to wear mourning for more than a few days, but I like the grey and lilac. I should choose those shades at any time. I had not thought of white, but I am sure it will be perfect.’
‘Yes, I believe it will. You are an attractive girl, Eliza, and will pay for dressing.’
Eliza blushed. She had never thought of herself as particularly attractive, though Betty always said it, but wearing good clothes certainly made her feel much more stylish. She had already adapted two evening gowns that her employer had given her from her own wardrobe, one a simple lilac silk, which had had long sleeves. Eliza had removed the long sleeves and made them shorter, trimming them with some heavy cream lace. She had added more lace to the bodice, and, worn with the gold pin that had been her mother’s, the alteration had completely transformed the gown so that even Lady Sarah had not recognised it. The other was grey silk and had very elegant lines. Eliza had merely adjusted the waist and hemline, feeling that she could not improve on its design.
‘Will mademoiselle be advised by me as to the style the gowns should be?’ the Frenchwoman asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Eliza replied. ‘I am not perfectly sure of the latest fashion—or what would be appropriate for a companion to wear.’
‘You need not worry about that side of it,’ her employer said. ‘I wish you to feel comfortable in what you choose, Eliza, and I am sure madame knows exactly what will become a girl of your age.’ She turned to the seamstress. ‘That is enough for one day. When can you have the first ballgown ready?’
‘By Friday lunchtime, milady.’
‘Very well. Eliza can manage with what she has until then. We shall attend the assembly that night, but until then we have only a dinner with friends and a trip to the theatre. You may wear the grey to dinner at the home of Lady Roberts, Eliza, and the lilac to the theatre. Your own walking gown will be sufficient until madame has made your new ones.’
Eliza thanked her. Her first visit to the Pump Room and the library had shown her that her clothes were by no means fashionable enough for Bath, at least if she were here on a visit for pleasure, though she thought them adequate for a companion. However, Lady Sarah had made it clear that she wanted her companion dressed suitably when they were in company and, although overwhelmed by what seemed excessive generosity, she accepted the new gowns as necessary—a part of her employment.
That did not stop her being excited by the prospect of wearing such lovely clothes. Lady Sarah’s cast-offs were far finer than anything she had ever possessed and she knew that both were almost unworn, though possibly purchased when her employer was younger.
She thanked the seamstress for her help, assisted the young girl who carried out the materials and walked to the door with them both. When she returned to the sitting room, Lady Sarah was sipping a glass of restorative wine.
‘Come and sit down, Eliza. You must be quite exhausted after that,’ she said. ‘I always feel drained after fittings for new gowns.’
‘It was a new experience for me,’ Eliza replied with a smile. ‘I always made my own gowns with Mama’s help. She was an excellent seamstress.’
‘With a little training you could be a fashionable seamstress,’ Lady Sarah said. ‘Your own gowns are quite acceptable for the country, my dear, but you need a little town bronze.’
Sarah wondered why a companion should need to look fashionable but she did not question her employer. She considered herself fortunate to be treated so well.
‘Perhaps you will go to the library for me this afternoon, my dear. I do not like the book I started last evening. It was well recommended, but The Mysteries of Udolpho is not to my taste. I should prefer something more sensible, I think.’
‘Have you read the story of Tristan and Iseult?’