The Magic of Gingerbread, page 5
“I...” Eleanor reeled as if she’d been physically struck. How could he know her so well so fast? The other men of her acquaintance had never cared to delve deep beneath the mask she showed everyone. She’d tried to be the dutiful daughter, the supportive wife, the doting lover from afar. These were roles expected of her to some extent, and they were the accepted masks society, as well as those in her life, didn’t question. None had wished to remove the shade and find out about the woman who wore them.
Except this one man who’d appeared out of nowhere.
As he continued to eat his cake while quietly observing her, she cleared her throat. In her lap, she twisted her napkin in her fingers. “There comes a point in every woman’s life when she grows weary of being hurt, so she does what she must to survive, what she can so that folks will leave her in peace.” She pressed her lips together but held his gaze. “If I keep people away, I can remain unaffected, unscathed.”
“Safe,” he finished for her in a quiet voice.
“Yes.” She focused on her dessert plate. “The more I growl and wrap myself in prickles, the more I’m given a wide berth. I’ve found, over the years, it’s not so bad.”
“Except it’s lonely, I would imagine,” he whispered and trailed a fingertip along the rim of his coffee cup. What would that fleeting touch feel like upon her skin? “Sometimes, I slip into the same pattern of keeping myself aloof. A casualty of my occupation, I suppose. If it wasn’t for my sister constantly pulling me from whatever hole I’ve stuffed myself in, I might indeed remain lost.”
She forced a swallow into her tight throat. He sounded sincere enough, and that made her wish he’d shared more of his history, but she kept her own counsel. She stared at him, and he stared back for long moments. Did she want him to continue to pry, delve for those secrets she kept even from herself? Of course not. How silly. After tonight, she’d never see him again.
“Life, Mr. Hallewell, is sometimes not easy to live. One regrets pieces of one’s heart that have been given away and the hopes that have been dashed. For protection, one has no recourse but to lock that organ away.” A small gasp escaped. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much.
“While this is true enough, it means the one without the heart isn’t living at all.” Mr. Hallewell rapped a knuckle on the tabletop and recalled her attention to his face. He had a tiny dab of icing at the corner of his mouth, and she knew an insane desire to lean across the table and lick the confection away, to taste the sugar on his lips. Thankfully, he wiped his mouth with his napkin and the temptation resolved itself. “My father has a saying: everyone has a story, but only a few care to read it or understand the writer.” He raised an eyebrow. “To his way of thinking, people do things for all sorts of reasons, but they are never revealed unless he has an opportunity to talk to the person. Secrets build a person, forge them into what they currently are, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Acceptance, Mrs. Redding, is the key to all problems.”
Another wave of awareness prickled over her skin and nudged the lone butterfly in her belly into motion once more. “Do you care, Mr. Hallewell?” she asked in a barely-there whisper. Her hands trembled, and she was glad they were hidden in her lap.
The corners of his lips tipped upward in a faint smile. “Time will tell, and it’s my fondest hope you will give me that time.” Then he plunged a hand into an interior pocket of his jacket and brought forth an object that was wrapped in a navy-blue linen napkin. “Keep this. Without eating it until Christmas.” He slid the odd package over the tabletop toward her.
In silence, Eleanor unwrapped the fabric. Inside was... the leg of an oversized gingerbread man, not more than three inches in height and an inch wide. The faint scent of holiday spices filled the air. “You’re insane.” Whyever did he wish for her to keep a forgotten bit of pastry, and where had the rest of the cookie gone?
“Perhaps, but humor me. I have a feeling our acquaintance has not yet run its course.”
She frowned as she wrapped the cookie bit and thrust the whole thing into her handbag. “I don’t know what to say.” Was he nothing more than a man unhinged after all?
“Say you’ll spend time with me tomorrow night at the same hour. I shall meet you in front of your offices.”
What was wrong with him? Her mind spun. Such things didn’t happen to her and not a woman with her history or scars. Her jaw fell slightly open. “I...” She closed it with a snap and cleared her throat. “Honestly?”
“That is preferable.” He grinned and that damned chin dimple winked at her.
Eleanor blew out a breath. “I’m intrigued enough to say yes, but I’m wise enough to decline your offer.”
“You’re right to remain wary. There are some dodgy characters out there.” He nodded. “Shall I consider that an agreement?”
It was better than being alone, watching the world go about its business from her window, especially during the holiday season. “Against my sound judgment, yes.”
“Excellent.” He winked. “That gives me enough time to find that missing sword...”
She hated the blush that warmed her cheeks, despised the betraying tickle of butterfly wings low in her belly. Men were not to be trusted, and the charming ones even less so, yet, the hope deep in her heart sparked to life and warmed her chest that had been cold too long.
Chapter Four
December 19th
Your mark grows restless, according to our sources. Will make contact again soon. Stay vigilant.
Cameron read the missive from his superior twice more before thrusting it into his overcoat pocket. It was damn near nerve-wracking playing this waiting game and not knowing who the mark was. Why didn’t the man surface already?
In the meanwhile, he cooled his heels in front of the post office where the Western Union offices were located. Lazy, fat snowflakes drifted down from the inky sky as he leaned a shoulder against his carriage. Or rather, the carriage belonging to his father, for, perhaps egotistically, he wished to drive Mrs. Redding about the city in style instead of utilizing hired hacks and suffering through broken squabs and springs.
The puzzled look on her face last night when he’d given her the gingerbread leg still amused him. He had a plan, oh yes, but breaking through the lady’s thorny exterior required more effort than he’d first thought. Why the devil did he want to expend the energy? If female companionship was the goal, there were much easier women to charm. But this one... He grinned and shook his head. She presented a challenge like no other, and he meant to make her smile. After that, he’d see what his next move was.
And the easiest way to hack through the prickles she insisted on surrounding herself with was hands-on entertainment, show her that he genuinely cared for her welfare and her as a person.
“You seem right pleased with yourself, Mr. Hallewell,” his driver mentioned as he flipped up his collar and snugged deeper into his coat.
“That I am, Samuel. Let’s hope it’s not premature.” His stomach muscles tightened when the lady emerged from the building. “Wish me luck on my current endeavor.”
“With that female?” the driver asked.
“Yes.”
The driver uttered a low whistle of appreciation. “She’s a right looker, but aloof, like a wild filly I saw once.”
“Therein lies the challenge, and great is the potential reward,” Cameron said as he pushed off from the carriage and then strode in her direction. “Mrs. Redding.”
Surprise jumped into her eyes as she met his gaze. “I half expected you not to keep your word.”
“Why?”
“Men seldom do.” Her shrug lifted one shoulder.
“Then you don’t know me that well, for as the gentlemen of old, my word is my bond.” She wore the same navy outfit and hat she had on that fateful first meeting at Victoria Station. It was no less flattering now as it had been then, and the rakish angle of the brim was unexpectedly flirtatious. A good sign. “I do hope you haven’t changed your mind about spending time in my company this evening.” Panic circled through his gut. He’d looked forward to being with her. Losing momentum was not on his agenda.
She narrowed her eyes. “I have not. Unless there is a specific reason I should?”
Always so guarded, this one. Cameron held up a hand in a disarming manner. “Not at all, but this is our third meeting. Soon, it might be construed as habit.”
“We’re hardly in danger of that.” She renewed her grip on the ever-present umbrella even though it was too cold for rain. “Where will you take me tonight?”
Was that a twinge of interest in her voice? Excellent. Perhaps tackling those thorns wasn’t as impossible as he’d first assumed. He’d faced less formidable challenges in the field; he was up to this task. “Ice skating in Regent’s Park.”
“Isn’t that a dangerous prospect? After the drowning deaths?”
He tamped down the urge to roll his eyes. The greatest winter incident London had ever seen, and no one would ever forget the debacle. “That was twenty years ago, and it’s been cold enough for weeks that the ice will be in no danger of cracking or breaking. Besides, the depth is four feet, maybe five. A disaster is unlikely.” With a gesture toward his carriage, he said, “Shall we?” When she hesitated, he held out a hand. “I promise I won’t let you fall, and if there is a run of bad luck, I shall pluck you from the icy depths and bundle you home in a thrice.”
What had happened in her life to render her so skittish and wary of men?
Finally, she slid her free hand into his and he tugged her to the carriage. “I must warn you, Mr. Hallewell, that I haven’t been ice skating since I was a young woman, and I really don’t relish making a fool of myself at this age.”
“Which is what?”
A small huff escaped her. “Thirty-two.”
“A good as age as any to recapture the joy found in your youth. After all, who will see? And even if they did, there’s a good chance you won’t know any of those people and won’t come into contact with them again.” He assisted her into the carriage and then swung himself up beside her to settle on the bench. “You’re alive in this moment. Best enjoy it for the remembrance when you’re old and bedridden. Live now with abandon.”
“Oh, if only I could,” she whispered in return. “To live without worrying about the consequences, without worrying at all...”
He vowed to himself right then that if she asked for the moon, he’d do everything in his power to bring it to her, for she deserved anything that made her happy.
His unlikely companion remained silent during the short trip through the city. Cameron didn’t force conversation, for he rather enjoyed sitting next to her. The heat of her body seeped into his, and a faint scent of roses reached his nose. The floral aroma wasn’t overpowering, but it was enough of a hint that it beckoned like a mysterious siren. It suited her, for roses were often stately, slightly snobbish blooms that kept themselves apart from the rest of a garden, but when they were fully opened and welcomed one to their bushes, they were spectacular, complex and the queen of all flowers, the perfect representation of all forms of love.
What the devil has gotten into me? Waxing poetic about bloody flowers. Wouldn’t his sister tease him mercilessly if she were here? He’d never made such an effort with a woman before, and Lorraine well knew it. And giving this female bits of gingerbread every night as a parting gift? If that didn’t make him a candidate for an asylum, he didn’t know what would. Dash it all, was that how he appeared to her, an insane man bent on... what?
Gah, it’s too difficult to tell when she won’t open up and talk to me.
Besides, she kept her face turned toward the window, and with the wide brim of her hat, she effectively hid herself and blocked him from catching her gaze.
No matter, he would bide his time, for he had scads of it until the holidays were over. Mentally, he took himself to task. Because of this woman with secrets and scars, he’d linger in London, even more than spending time with his daughter. Why? It had to be more than that longing he’d seen in her eyes at Victoria Station.
Didn’t it?
No, it did not. Such folly had happened to him once before, with Lila. Apparently, he’d do just about anything if there was something in a woman’s beautiful eyes. And that liaison had amounted to an illegitimate daughter and a scandal he’d barely recovered from. It had changed the course of his life. Would meeting Mrs. Redding do the same? How intriguing.
I am an idiot.
Thank God the carriage rocked to a halt and he could stop thinking before it grew dangerous. He sprang down from the equipage and handed Mrs. Redding out with efficient movements.
“Please feel free to leave the umbrella in the carriage. It will be in the way,” he instructed. “There is no threat of rain.”
“That is not why I carry it, Mr. Hallewell.” She met his gaze. Hers was stone-cold sober. “It is quite an effective weapon.”
“I do have some experience in that quarter.”
“That was your own fault.” But she left the umbrella in the carriage.
He escorted her toward a frozen lake while a grin pulled at his lips. There was no guile with her, no flirting, no pretending. It was refreshing, and if some men thought her attitude off-putting, they hadn’t looked deeper. Mrs. Redding had much to offer.
To one side of the lake was a lad renting skate blades. Already a handful of couples slipped and slid over the glassy surface. Laughter and conversation filled the air. Coupled with the fat, lazy snowflakes and tiny lit oil lanterns hanging from trees around the edges of the lake, the atmosphere screamed romance and Christmastime. Across the narrow stretch at the top of the lake, a five-piece band played cheerful seasonal music. Couples and families crowded about as they listened. The comforting scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air.
Oh, yes, treating Mrs. Redding to such entertainment was the right thing to do. Would this venue be the one to bring a sparkle to her eyes? In short order, he rented the requisite blades. “Come. There’s a bench right there at the edge of the ice. I’ll assist you.”
The look she gave him could freeze his blood. “I will manage. Thank you.” So saying, she took a set of blades from his hand and marched to the bench, where she sat and began tying the straps of leather onto her boots.
“Of course you can,” he whispered to himself. His breath clouded around him in the chilly air. Just once he’d like for her to need him. “You know,” he mentioned in a casual voice as he sat beside her. “The previous number of prickles was enough. An additional amount is not required.” Calmly, he tied on his own skate blades and when he finished, he caught her gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter how you try to sabotage what’s between us.”
“So I can see.” And she didn’t sound thrilled about it. A bruise to the ego, to be sure, but he would triumph. “What is it that you think is between us?”
What indeed. “I’m not certain, but I’m anxious to find out. Aren’t you?”
“Despite my initial wariness, I am. With you, I feel... alarmingly at ease.”
“That is the best news I’ve heard all week.” A certain amount of excitement flowed through him.
“I am cautiously optimistic, which begs me to remain wary. As they say, the proof is in the pudding, Mr. Hallewell. I wonder how good a cook you are.” Mrs. Redding glanced about the area and a certain wistfulness lined her expression. “What now?”
“We skate.” Cameron stood on the ice and tested the strength of his blades and his balance. No slouch at skating, he couldn’t wait to do a few rounds. It was one of the few forms of exercise he enjoyed, and it would give him an excuse to remain close to her. Perhaps he would dare to steal a kiss. That would render enough proof for the lady. “Ready?” He held out a gloved hand.
“I’m not certain—” She uttered a rather unladylike squeal when he grabbed her hand and pulled her upright. “Oh, dear. It’s so slippery.” Her feet slid out from beneath her a few times. Frantically, she latched onto both of his hands while she attempted to stabilize her position. “It’ll take some time to remember how to do this.” She stared at the ice and the toes of her boots that peeked out from beneath the hem of her navy skirts.
“Don’t concentrate too hard.” As he talked, he moved his feet and glided backward, pulling her along with him until they reached the middle of the frozen pond. “It’s much like dancing.”
“I cannot recall the last time I’ve danced.”
Pity that. He made a mental note to remedy the situation immediately. “Ah, is that a hint, Mrs. Redding?”
She didn’t release her death grip on his hands, and he adored the way she had no choice but to trust him. “Please, call me Eleanor,” she gasped and another squeal tore from her throat as she nearly fell, which sent her crashing into him.
“Lovely name.” He slipped an arm about her slender waist in an effort to keep her upright. “In return, make use of my Christian name—Cameron.” She felt right in his half-embrace and he reveled in the closeness.
“All right.” Finally, after much trial and error, she steadied enough that he relinquished his intimate hold on her. As soon as he did, she wobbled and clutched his hand once more, and this time, he threaded their fingers together. “There is quite the knack to this that escapes me.” A tiny scream of imagined terror came from her, followed by a laugh of pure delight when she nearly toppled. “Oh, Cameron, this is such a silly endeavor.”
Those genuine sounds and his name finally on her lips speared through him and lodged into his heart. He smiled, peered into her face. Her whisky-brown eyes were lit with pleasure. They twinkled beneath the lanterns strung in the trees. “Yes, there is. But it is fun, and one of the more enjoyable endeavors the Christmastide season brings.”
