“I have, rather. I am to spend the afternoon with a friend.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d promised Eliza that he would return after his midday errand. He had visited his sister, asked after her husband, and made himself known to his nephew. He’d filled the Coopers in on what gossip he was able to spread throughout the banking community. Mark didn’t need roast beef and strawberry trifle to make his call worthwhile.
Yet Ann was no fool. “Won’t you at least tell me her name?”
“No.” He smiled grimly. Like most things, he must keep that detail to himself.
She stood and kissed his cheek. “You’re exasperating!”
“I thought I was indulgent.” Today, apparently, he was both. “Speaking of,” he said as he bid her goodbye, “you left trunks of your clothes in the attic. Most of it is out of fashion, but it’s all in good condition. Do you want anything before I clear out the wardrobes?”
“No, I don’t need anything. Honestly, I forgot those trunks existed. You may discard them—or donate it all to the charity box if that’s not too much trouble for you.”
Her generosity was no trouble at all. In fact, Mark knew the right home for her old things, some of which had already been spoken for.
“Thank you, Ann. You’ve just made one lucky young Londoner a very happy lady.”
He was out the door and gone before his sister dared to ponder what he’d meant.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She’d washed and dressed, and then pinned up her hair. She thumbed through a copy ofThe Illustrated Mail.This periodical was not nearly so interesting as the gentlemen’s rags that she and Mark favored, but she’d read all of those. There wouldn’t be a new edition for days, and she was not brave enough to attempt to crack open a book.
Eliza wandered the house, waiting for her host to return from his errand. She inspected the freshly watered palms in the drawing room and the pots of geraniums sitting on the window sills. She peeped between the draperies to spy on the Sunday strollers walking toward Hyde Park.
Truth be told, she envied them. The residents of Mayfair had the freedom to move about while she must be hidden away. She was bruised, battered, and unsightly. Mark’s neighbors would think the worst of her—and him—if Eliza was witnessed coming and going from his home.
She went upstairs to tidy her bedroom, yet the sheets had been changed and the pillows fluffed. Jenny, the housemaid, had swept the carpet and dusted the dressing table. The industrious servant had pressed and put away all of Eliza’s borrowed clothing, leaving nothing forherto do.
She felt useless and bored. Restless and lonesome. She understood that Mark’s career required socialization with gentlemen of finance and other important business connections. But why couldn’t he take her out in his carriage on his errands? Eliza would wear a big hat and keep her face from the glass so that no one would see the two of them together.
She’d be discreet, she promised! If only she could spend more time with him before their paths diverged!
Eliza roamed the corridors. She studied the pictures hanging on the silk-papered walls. There was a family portrait of Mark when he was a boy standing beside his baby sister’s cot. The oval, gilt wood frame had grown dull and dingy, but the fondness between the two siblings was evident despite the passage of time.
She’d always wanted a family. She missed her mother and had dreamed of having a father, yet the man who sired her had passed his cheques to her mother by proxy. He had sent a clerk to deliver each payment and a yearly birthday present for his little girl.
She liked to think of Mark in a nursery surrounded by toys, books, and baby-things. She imagined him growing up among the best families, attending the best schools, and being afforded every opportunity to realize his dreams. The van Bergens were everything that Eliza had wished to be, and she smiled fondly at the youthful likeness of the man she’d come to care for.
The door to his bedchamber stood ajar. She had crossed that threshold last night to watch him dress for his dinner party. She longed to be close to her host, even while he was gone.
Her fingers pushed the wooden panel open on its hinges. Eliza stepped into his masculine space, which had also been tidied for the day. Curtains were open to allow the afternoon sunlight to flood the space, their heavy lengths tied back with a loop of braided golden cord. The cinnamon-colored counterpane felt warm and soft beneath her hands. The pillows in their embroidered cotton cases were fluffed and filled with goose down, as soft as a cloud against the brass-knobbed bedstead that gleamed in the light.
Eliza lay down atop the mattress and snuggled onto a patch of sun-warmed bed linens. The sheets were fresh, but she imagined the scent of Mark’s cologne permeating the fabric. He was so handsome, intelligent, and tolerant. He was generous, kind, and blessedly close-lipped when he might’ve turned her in to Scotland Yard. He was a banker, she was a thief, yet he trusted her not to make off with his valuables.
He had welcomed her into the most precious parts of his life when any sane man ought to have been on his guard—but not Sir Mark, for he saw the good in her when others turned up their noses and clutched their purses whenever she ventured near. To him, she was as worthy of friendship as any other woman. He treated her with courtesy, dignity, and care.
Eliza was half in love with him, just for that…
***
He handed his hat and gloves to Pearson, who stood ready to receive him in the foyer. Mark went to the drawing room, expecting to find Eliza reclining on the leather sofa with a copy of some weekly magazine, yet her usual spot on the cushions was bare.
He went to the garden, which was empty, before circling back to the stairs. Perhaps his guest was in her room, enjoying a few peaceful moments to herself, but when he reached the upper landing, Mark could see that the blue bedchamber was vacant, as well.
Where could she have gone?
The door to his own room stood open, and Mark stepped across the threshold. Freed from his typical banker’s uniform—he felt almost naked without the immaculately tailored black frock coat, striped trousers, and stiff, starched collar that was necessary during working hours in the City—he’d chosen a loose, lightweight sack coat and soft, blue trousers for this casual Sunday afternoon at home.
Mark hoped to relax with Eliza over sandwiches and lemonade, but first, he had to find her.
