Catching up to her, Keele gestured to the coach. “After you.”
Wordlessly, she climbed into the coach and sat on the rear-facing seat. Keele sat opposite her, and the door closed.
“I shouldn’t have left the house before you, and you shouldn’t have indicated I enter the coach first,” Ellis said. “Did you forget I’m supposed to be a man?”
“I did actually.” His focus was trained on the window, and she had the sense he was trying not to look at her.
“How can you forget I’m a man, given the way I’m dressed?”
“The breeches are rather tight.” He sounded somewhat strained. “I noticed when you were climbing into the coach in front of me.” He turned his head, and their gazes met in the shadowy, seductive light of the lantern affixed to the side of the coach.
Ellis bit the inside of her lip as heat swelled through her. No good could come of this conversation when they were alone together in a small, dark place. She reached up and began to peel the hair from her face. The removal was always a rather unpleasant experience, and her skin would be red for a while. Hopefully, it would diminish by the time they arrived at Wellesbourne House.
“What are you doing?” Keele asked.
“Since I have to go as a man, I decided I don’t want to wear the facial hair whilst I’m eating. I can only hope no one notices my features are rather feminine.” She tucked the fake hair into the upper fob pocket of her breeches.
His features creased with concern. “I hate to dampen your spirits, but I think that’s an unrealistic expectation. Just keep your head down as much as possible, and instruct the footman to leave the dining room, which I imagine you would do anyway, so that you can speak about things that would surely reveal you as a woman.”
Ellis swore under her breath.
“Did you just curse?” he asked.
“This was a terrible idea.” Ellis crossed her arms over her chest, and the fabric of the coat pulled across her shoulders. Damn, it was also too tight. “I should have allowed you to go and tell her I couldn’t come.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She unfolded her arms and rolled her shoulders to readjust the coat. “Because you would have pressed her for information about me.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he said. “And something tells me Miss Barclay would not have revealed your secrets, even if I had.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” she said. “I’ll just go inside and speak to her for a short while then leave. I won’t stay for dinner.” She scowled. “There was no reason for me to take the blasted facial hair off.”
Keele sent her a cautious glance. “You could trust me with your secret. Haven’t I demonstrated my intention to keep you hidden and protect your safety? Indeed, I was willing to let Margot believe you’re a man.”
She snapped her gaze to his. The lamp in the coach offered enough light for her to see the sincerity in his expression.
“I can’t believe you would have done that, but you seem earnest.” After a long moment, she dragged her focus from him and looked toward the window. “I have nothing I want to share at the moment. I should think you would understand that, since you didn’t see fit to share that you were on the cusp of becoming betrothed to Margot.”
“You sound irritated about that. Why should you care?” he asked.
Ellis had not meant to sound that way. She didn’t want him thinking she was bothered by him being engaged to someone else, except she realized suddenly that she was. She shoved that thought from her head and lifted a shoulder. “I just found it rich that you would press me to reveal my secrets yet keep your own.”
“You make a valid point,” he said with an edge of discomfort. “There are things I do not disclose about myself. I will not ask about your secret anymore. However, I would like us to become better acquainted, if possible. What can you tell me about yourself that wouldn’t give anything away? Perhaps how you learned shorthand?”
Ellis thought of how she’d seen her mother using shorthand to keep the household accounts and to quickly draft letters for her father, who’d been a solicitor. One day, Ellis copied the ink strokes having no idea what they’d meant. She’d just wanted to be like her mother. Laughing warmly, her mother had promised to teach Ellis one day. But that had never happened because her mother had died when Ellis was just nine.
At Beacon Park, the Duke of Henlow’s seat where Ellis had spent much time, along with Henlow House in London, the steward had used shorthand. Ellis had tried to learn by reading his ledgers, but then he’d offered to teach her instead. “A very kind man taught me, and that is all I can say about that.”
“What about your love of books?” Keele asked. “Where did that come from?”
That had also come from her mother. They’d read together every night for as long as Ellis could remember. In fact, her very first memory was of sitting next to her mother on her bed, reading Original Stories from Real Life by Mary Wollstonecraft. Ellis still had that book. In fact, it was one of the few things she’d taken with her when she’d left the Henlow household. It was upstairs in her room at Keele’s house.
“My mother taught me to read, and she is why I love books,” Ellis said. “Please don’t ask me anything else. Both she and my father are dead.”
“I see,” he said quietly. “Mine are too, but I never knew my mother. She died in childbirth.”
Ellis felt a rush of sympathy and had to fight the urge to touch him. At least she’d had a mother for nine years. Poor Keele hadn’t ever known his. “Did your father remarry?” she asked softly.
