Page 3 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

She laughed at his chagrin, startling herself with the realisation she could still laugh when her life was in such disarray.

“Do come and eat with me,” he urged. “Once you’ve eaten, things won’t look so black, and we shall figure out a way forward for you.”

“We?” she said, that one word breathless with surprise.

“Well, yes,” he said, folding his arms and frowning down at her. “I’m your knight in… well, my armour is being polished. Will this do?” he asked, gesturing to his attire, which spoke of wealth and style and everything that was elegant.

“You really are very kind, aren’t you?” she said, staring into his blue eyes and praying she was not being an unutterable fool.

“Well, I think I am,” he said, sounding genuinely uncertain. “I can be a selfish devil, I know, but I’ve only ever had to consider my own comfort until this evening. Certainly, I have no nefarious plans upon your person,” he promised, with every appearance of gravity.

“But you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Meg remarked, her lips quirking in amusement.

He gave a bark of laughter and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, you have me there. I’m Ashford, by the way. Nathaniel Ashford, and you are—?”

“Miss Margaret Bancroft.”

He nodded and executed a formal bow, just as if they’d been presented at a ball, not that she’d know. “Your servant, Miss Bancroft. Now, do come along. I’m famished if you’re not.”

Nat watched as Miss Bancroft tucked into a meal of pork chops with thick gravy, boiled cabbage, and mashed potatoes. It was hardly an elegant repast, but she ate heartily, though with a ladylike grace that did not escape him, and he wondered how she had come to be in such dire straits. Though she told him she had lost her employment and been turned out of the house, he knew there must be more to it than that. This woman had never been a shop girl or a flower seller. She must have been an upper servant at least, and more likely a companion to an elderly lady or a governess as he’d first supposed.

As she ate, the colour returned to her cheeks and Nat studied her surreptitiously. She was a lovely creature. The wide, solemn grey eyes that had first caught his attention were thickly lashed, with fine dark blonde brows arching over them. Her mouth was a perfect cupid’s bow, the lower lip far fuller than the upper, and when she smiled, an expression he had only glimpsed for the moment, he had been certain there had been a dimple quivering, not quite brave enough to show itself. He determined to make her laugh in earnest, for he could not abide not knowing such tantalising details.

“Oh,” she said, sitting back once her plate was cleared. “That was exactly what I needed. I am most grateful for your generosity,” she added, and Nat heard the rather prickly note return to her voice as she acknowledged his charity towards her.

“Nonsense, I am certain you would have done just the same if the circumstances had been reversed,” he replied with a shrug. “Let’s have some pudding.”

Without consulting her, he ordered apple pie with cream before returning his attention to her. He discovered her watching him curiously.

“Are you certain I would?”

“Would what?” he asked in confusion.

“That I would do the same thing?” she said impatiently. “How do you know this is not some elaborate scheme? You are clearly an eligible man, perhaps I am aiming to trick you into marriage?” she said, and with such bold candour he could only stare at her.

The well-bred ladies he knew would never speak so brazenly about such topics. Well, apart from his grandmother, but the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney was from a different time and was a law unto herself.

“Are you?” he asked, equally direct.

She blushed at that, putting up her chin. “Certainly not.”

“Well, there you are, then.”

“And you’re just going to take my word for it?” she asked, appalled.

Nat held her gaze. “Well, why not? You look sincere and I’m an excellent judge of character.”

Miss Bancroft shook her head, subsiding into a dejected silence that reminded him of just how dire her situation was.

“You really have no one to care for you? No aunts or uncles or cousins? A female friend, perhaps?”

“No. My mother died when I was a child and my father was rather eccentric, I’m afraid. We had little society. He died almost a year ago. He was ill for a long time and could not work. I cared for him but, by the time he died, any money we once had was gone. I had no idea how bad things had become, but before he passed away, he found me a position as a governess. As the children’s father was the son of an old but dear friend of my papa’s, I hoped things would work out. At first it seemed just what I needed, for the children were sweet creatures, but… well, as I told you, I was dreadfully mistaken.”

A governess, he thought in satisfaction. Just as he’d supposed.

“May I ask why things went so awry?”

Nat wished he had not asked as all the colour left her face but she met his gaze, and he saw storms gathering in the cool grey of her eyes. “They accused me of being a thief.”