Page 35 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

“That door on the left just down the corridor,” Cook said.

Gabriel bestowed his best smile on her and returned to the corridor. Sure enough, there was the required door. No doubt the next one might be the butler’s pantry, domain of Parslow. He knocked on Mrs. Hawkins’s door.

“Enter.” The voice was harsh and sharp. No doubt she thought it was a servant tapping on the wood.

Gabriel pushed it open and stepped inside. With his lack of acquaintance with any housekeeper, he’d never been inside one of their parlors. It was more than surprising. He’d been expecting a smaller, less ornate version of the sort of parlor ladies frequented. And it did indeed possess a high-backed armchair in front of the small fireplace, but apart from that he realized he was in foreign territory.

The walls consisted of shelves stacked with all manner of things: tablecloths, bedlinen and towels, canisters of tea, bags of sugar, pots of spices, countless jars of preserves, boxes of candles, and an abundance of more durable items such as china, glass, and silverware. Did she perhaps live in a storeroom?

In the center of this room stood a well-polished mahogany table around which stood just two chairs. She clearly wasn’t given to partying. Perhaps Parslow occasionally got an invite.

Mrs. Hawkins was sitting in one of the chairs, facing the door, a large ledger open in front of her and a pen in her right hand. He seemed to have happened upon her when she was doing the household accounts. A thin woman, she wore her iron-gray hair scraped back from her face and covered with the plainest of white caps. Her whole demeanor was forbidding.

Her face betrayed no surprise at the sight of him. In fact, it was if anything a trifle annoyed at this interruption. “Lord Gabriel,” she said. “What might I do for you?” She sounded very much as though she would like to be rid of him as quickly as possible. Perhaps she saw him as unimportant. Perhaps, if she did, it might be because she knew his secret, which had to be a good thing.

Gabriel closed the door behind himself and stepped further into the room. “Might I be seated?”

By the look on her face she wanted to say no, but instead she gave a small nod. Not a polite one, more of a resigned one.

He pulled the other chair out and sat down.

She regarded him out of cold, oddly pale eyes. “How can I help you, my lord?” She didn’t sound as if she meant this.

He had no intention of allowing her to put him off, so he might as well plunge right in. “You used to be my mother’s lady’s maid, did you not? Before you took on the role of housekeeper here in London.”

This did cause a slight reaction. Her eyes flickered, but all she then did was give a slight nod. “I did.” Was that wariness in her eyes now?

“Good.” At least that was out of the way. Now to reveal to her what he knew. Or what he thought he knew might be more accurate. Perhaps he ought to be careful about this, as it was perfectly possible she hadn’t been with his mother on that fateful day in Soho Square or that the whole story was a faradiddle his mother had told his father in order to persuade him to allow her to keep him. Maybe, even, his mother had snatched him from some passing nursemaid, although that seemed unlikely in the extreme.

Suddenly nervous, which was unusual for him, he wetted his lips. “Did you always go with my mother when she visited her dressmaker.”

A guarded look crossed her face before she had it back to being blank. “I attended your mother whenever she went out, and whenever she needed me when she was at home both here and at Wentworth Castle.”

Well, that was good to know. He was just going to have to come out with it and ask her. He swallowed. “Were you, then, with her on the day she found me?”

Her pupils dilated slightly but otherwise she showed no reaction. She’d be an admirable card player. For a long moment she stayed silent, perhaps weighing up what she should say. “I was.”

He let out a sigh. At least he hadn’t let slip something she didn’t already know. He tried a smile. His smiles had been known to open many doors and loosen the tongues of most people he encountered. He might as well not have bothered with the dour Mrs. Hawkins.

“So you know how my mother came by me.” He desperately didn’t want to lead her into what might have been the same lies his mother had, possibly, told his father. He wanted to hear from her what she knew of that day. He mustn’t put words into her mouth no matter how much he wanted to ask questions.

She made a curt nod. “I do.”

“I would be most obliged if you were to recount to me what you recall of that day, then.” He gazed into those pale eyes, willing her to reveal all.

She shifted slightly in her seat. “What would you like to know?”

He shook his head. “Everything that you know. Please.”

She emitted the slightest of sighs. “I suppose you might say I owe nothing to my mistress now. Sixteen years is a long time.”

This was a somewhat perplexing statement. Gabriel kept his eyes on her and waited.

She pursed her lips. “You should understand that your mother, on her deathbed, guaranteed me the position I hold now.”

“She did?” He hadn’t expected that. However, as good servants were hard to get, perhaps his mother had thought to promote one she valued in order to help her husband.

Mrs. Hawkins nodded. “As a reward for my silence.”