Page 29 of Sinfully Mine
Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, sighing at the soft, remembered press of his mouth on hers. He was quite good at seduction. Masterful. It was unlikely Hester would survive another assault upon her senses.
She must have sat in the barn, twirling a piece of straw between her fingers for the better part of the late afternoon, because when Hester finally came to her feet, the shadows were starting to lengthen across the grass.
Mrs. Ebersole, flushed with bits of hair stuck to her cheeks, puffed at the sight of Hester approaching the back door. There was no sign of Sinclair and his friends. Probably sleeping off their wine from this afternoon in preparation for this evening’s festivities.
“There you are,” Mrs. Ebersole wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “Sinclair was looking for you earlier so he could introduce you to his hoity-toity friends. One of them’s a lady. A real one. Lady Downing.”
“I—saw her behind the house. She trampled on my dill.”
“Humph. Didn’t care for her in the least. But one gentleman, Worth is what Sinclair calls him. He’s the one you should charm, if you mean to bring someone to your side.”
Hester had confided some of her plans to Mrs. Ebersole.
“I overheard him and Sinclair talking about investments and some fancy bank in London,” the housekeeper said, her homely features becoming worshipful. “Never seen a man quite so handsome. Charming too. He kissed my hand.”
“I don’t care what he looks like. All that matters is saving Blackbird Heath from Sinclair. I’ll approach Worth. Mr. Godwick is speaking to Bishop Franks and asking for his assistance, but I don’t think it will help. I must take matters into my own hands.”
Mrs. Ebersole’s eyes widened. “I see.”
Hester looked down at her horribly rough, reddened hands. “Can you have Jake or Dobbins bring up a hot bath for me? Ask Mary to help me with my hair?”
Mrs. Ebersole nodded. “I’ll send her up once she’s finished with the lady. The gown is lovely. You’ll be a vision.” She patted Hester’s arm.
Hester snorted. “I only want to appear respectable and not embarrass myself before Sinclair’s friends. If this Worth can convince him not to sell the estate, I’ll be grateful.” How grateful she’d be remained to be seen.
I’ll do anything.
Chapter Fifteen
Hester approached thedining room with no small amount of trepidation. This was a somewhat desperate gambit, pretending to be something other than what she was, a country farmer. Smoothing down the olive silk of her dress, Hester breathed a sigh of relief she’d allowed Mrs. Tartt to convince her to spend the extra coin. The effect of the elegant gown would be ruined if anyone caught sight of her hands. Hester instructed Mary on a hairstyle, remembering the sophisticated yet uncomplicated chignon Martin’s wife, Ellie, often favored. Looking in the mirror before she’d descended, Hester had been reasonably sure she looked her best.
Her fingers trembled against her skirts.
If Hester couldn’t charm this Worth into convincing Sinclair to keep her as land manager, she planned to propose Worth purchase the estate from his friend as an investment.
Dobbins rushed out of the dining room, two empty wine bottles in one hand and a tray in the other, containing the remnants of a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese.
Damn it.She’d been saving that cheddar.
Her farmhand had been pressed into service for the duration of Sinclair’s card party, as if he were merely a servant and not her right hand in the management of Blackbird Heath. Unloading their trunks had only been the start.
Yet another irritation for Hester.
“Mrs. Black.” Dobbins bowed, his gaze landing everywhere but Hester.
“Dobbins. Don’t look so shocked.”
“You look,” he stuttered, taking in the pale olive silk embroidered with vines. “Quite unlike yourself.” He blinked.
“Not ridiculous, though?”
“No ma’am.” He hurried off to fetch more wine, leaving Hester to face those inside alone.
“Well,” she whispered under her breath. “Dobbins has declared me presentable. Off I go.”
Hester lifted her chin, steeled herself and jutted out the small mounds of her bosom, which looked quite appealing in the gown. The dressmaker had also talked Hester into a proper corset, one that wasn’t decades old, along with some decent underthings. At the time, she’d protested the expense, but now, much like the gloves, Hester was pleased she hadn’t given in to her usual frugality. Her skirts swished appealingly as she twisted the knob, opening the door without bothering to knock.
It washerdining room. Or at the very least it wasn’t completely Sinclair’s. And everyone in it was busy eating and drinking their way through a great deal ofherhard work.
