the machinery at the cotton mills to gather up loose cotton. She shuddered at the thought. The little money he would make doing such a perilous job would not be worth the risk. Each year children died, crushed beneath the heavy machinery if they slipped or were too slow. At best, Robert would end up crippled or permanently stooped from the demands of the job.
Behind her mask, Nora shut her eyes briefly and whispered a prayer. She would find a way to help the Malones. She thought of the three hundred-pound notes she had discovered in Stockport's breast pocket last night when she undressed for bed. It had been tempting to keep them. It was tempting now to give them to the Malones. Three hundred pounds would be a fortune to them. She fought the temptation. The money wasn't
86
Pickpocket Countess
hers to give and she had given up her right to it when she dared Stockport to come with her today in payment for the ring.
If she took the money, it would confirm all the ills Stockport thought her capable of, and for some reason that rankled.
It was inexplicably important that Stockport did not find her lacking.
Nora finished housekeeping and busied herself laying the table. Little Anna came to help put on the cloth Nora had brought, knowing that Mary appreciated such touches of domesticity. Out of the comer of her eye she saw that the boys had discovered Stockport's greatcoat and Stockport let them.
He was even playing with them, using sticks of firewood for swords,
quite boyish himself.
The sight of him romping with the children was mesmerising. Nora had difficulty tearing her gaze away. His dark hair was uncharacteristically messy and his shirt was coming out of his waistband as a result of his exertions. And Stockport was smiling! Actually smiling the way he'd smiled for the brief moment on the dance floor.
He looked her way and Nora
she was caught. She must
be more careful. Even with her mask on, she felt exposed. He whispered something to the boys and swept her a bow that made the boys laugh before
back to them.
Nora lit a pair of candles and called everyone to dinner, satisfied that the table, with its cloth and tallow candles, looked well enough to set the day apart from the rest.
The children gathered around the table on barrels and crates serving as makeshift chairs. They looked hungrily at the feast spread before them and Nora tried to see the fare through their eyes. Hattie's hearty soup with meat and vegetables filled their bowls, while plenty more hung over the fire, drenching the musty room with its rich aroma. Freshly baked loaves of bread sat on a wood board in the centre of the table next to a small crock of butter. The luxury of milk filled their cups.
Scott
87
Stockport escorted Mary to the table and Nora noted how much the young widow leaned on his arm for support. Mary sat and looked around at the expectant faces.
'Who shall ask the Christmas blessing?' she asked.
'Brandon!' the boys chorused, pointing to Stockport.
Stockport was surprised, but accepted and competently performed the duties. Everyone closed their eyes while Stockport blessed the food and spoke a few words about the sacred day.
Nora stole a look at him while the others had their heads dutifully bent. She should have kept her eyes safely downcast. The moment she gave into the little temptation she knew she was lost. In the candlelight, he looked angelic-like an archangel she'd seen painted in the cathedral in Manchester, a unique mixture of power, strength and justness with his sooty lashes swept over his sapphire eyes and his broad shoulders obvious through the white cotton of his shirt.
He was handsome and he did not disappoint. Today, he'd been all she had anticipated when she'd asked him to accompany her. It would be easier to dislike him if she'd been wrong about him, if he had stayed glued to the seat of her wagon, if he hadn't carried baskets with her, if he had simply refused to come at all. In all honesty, he'd been
Behind her mask, Nora shut her eyes briefly and whispered a prayer. She would find a way to help the Malones. She thought of the three hundred-pound notes she had discovered in Stockport's breast pocket last night when she undressed for bed. It had been tempting to keep them. It was tempting now to give them to the Malones. Three hundred pounds would be a fortune to them. She fought the temptation. The money wasn't
86
Pickpocket Countess
hers to give and she had given up her right to it when she dared Stockport to come with her today in payment for the ring.
If she took the money, it would confirm all the ills Stockport thought her capable of, and for some reason that rankled.
It was inexplicably important that Stockport did not find her lacking.
Nora finished housekeeping and busied herself laying the table. Little Anna came to help put on the cloth Nora had brought, knowing that Mary appreciated such touches of domesticity. Out of the comer of her eye she saw that the boys had discovered Stockport's greatcoat and Stockport let them.
He was even playing with them, using sticks of firewood for swords,
quite boyish himself.
The sight of him romping with the children was mesmerising. Nora had difficulty tearing her gaze away. His dark hair was uncharacteristically messy and his shirt was coming out of his waistband as a result of his exertions. And Stockport was smiling! Actually smiling the way he'd smiled for the brief moment on the dance floor.
He looked her way and Nora
she was caught. She must
be more careful. Even with her mask on, she felt exposed. He whispered something to the boys and swept her a bow that made the boys laugh before
back to them.
Nora lit a pair of candles and called everyone to dinner, satisfied that the table, with its cloth and tallow candles, looked well enough to set the day apart from the rest.
The children gathered around the table on barrels and crates serving as makeshift chairs. They looked hungrily at the feast spread before them and Nora tried to see the fare through their eyes. Hattie's hearty soup with meat and vegetables filled their bowls, while plenty more hung over the fire, drenching the musty room with its rich aroma. Freshly baked loaves of bread sat on a wood board in the centre of the table next to a small crock of butter. The luxury of milk filled their cups.
Scott
87
Stockport escorted Mary to the table and Nora noted how much the young widow leaned on his arm for support. Mary sat and looked around at the expectant faces.
'Who shall ask the Christmas blessing?' she asked.
'Brandon!' the boys chorused, pointing to Stockport.
Stockport was surprised, but accepted and competently performed the duties. Everyone closed their eyes while Stockport blessed the food and spoke a few words about the sacred day.
Nora stole a look at him while the others had their heads dutifully bent. She should have kept her eyes safely downcast. The moment she gave into the little temptation she knew she was lost. In the candlelight, he looked angelic-like an archangel she'd seen painted in the cathedral in Manchester, a unique mixture of power, strength and justness with his sooty lashes swept over his sapphire eyes and his broad shoulders obvious through the white cotton of his shirt.
He was handsome and he did not disappoint. Today, he'd been all she had anticipated when she'd asked him to accompany her. It would be easier to dislike him if she'd been wrong about him, if he had stayed glued to the seat of her wagon, if he hadn't carried baskets with her, if he had simply refused to come at all. In all honesty, he'd been
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