Page 29 of A Mayfair Maid

“I have nothing to pay you with at the moment,” Peggy’s breath rushed out all at once for she had been speaking at such a rapid pace that she had hardly had a chance to draw air. Such were her nerves. “But if you could find out anything, anything at all about my child; something that I could use to track him when I am free of this place...”

“I shall do everything that I can,” he promised. “I cannot guarantee a result, but I will try.”

“I am wholly grateful for anything you might uncover,” Peggy grasped his hand and smiled at Marilee. Hope shone in her eyes, real hope. She cleared her throat. “Now, perhaps a promissory note would suffice?” She sat up straight, ready to do business.

Mr. Crowley laughed. It was deep and rich and kind, and made Marilee’s heart leap within her chest.

“I won’t accept it,” he explained when Peggy’s brow had furrowed with concern.

“But you must,” she pleaded. “I’ll pay anything. Anything at all once I can manage an income.”

“I won’t accept it,” he repeated. “Not now. Not when you are free. Not in ten years’ time.” He placed one hand over his heart and bowed his head to the tearful maid. “Allow me to do this on my honor. Whatever I uncover will be my gift to you.”

Peggy flew off of her stool and into Mr. Crowley’s arms. “You are a wonderful man!”

“I am not,” he said.

Marilee sat back in shock and admittedly a little pang of… something… struck her that Peggy was being hugged back. Marilee shook her head to rid it of such thoughts. How bothersome that she would even consider wanting him to embrace her too. It was only that she wanted to share in Peggy’s happiness, with the both of them, she concluded. The gentleman seemed just as shocked, but he returned the embrace and patted her friend’s back until she settled. Marilee realized with a start, that he treated her no differently than Peggy. She was daft, letting her imagination run away with her. She was captive. She always looked a wreck. He was just a kind person. There was nothing between them to suggest otherwise.He had called her beautiful.

His eyes met Marilee’s over Peggy’s shoulder and she knew at once that he had read her thoughts like an open book. Were her features that open? She must have flushed several shades of red because he kept Peggy distracted with his questions while Marilee got her own wayward self in line.

Blast him for being so observant. Marilee gave an inward groan. Blast her for wearing her thoughts on her sleeve. Now what would he think of her? That she had some entendre for him?

“Thank you. Thank you ever so much,” Peggy said as she shook his hand and settled herself back on the stool.

“I might not find anything,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” she replied. “That you are willing to try is enough for the time being. I shall forever be in your debt.”

“Let us forego the debts and simply call each other friends,” he laughed.

“Of course, we are friends, Mr. Crowley,” Marilee chimed in. She had perhaps put a bit too much emphasis on the title. Reminding herself that they were nothing more than friends felt necessary. Reminding him, in case he decided to ask her about whatever it was that he had seen in her features, was just an added precaution.

“My friends don’t call me Mr. Crowley, Kate,” he laughed. “I’ve only ever had your Christian name to go with, but you still stand on formality. That isn’t very friendly.”

“Hmph,” Marilee grunted. He was needling her! He was needling her and, worse, he was enjoying it!

“Nikolas to my acquaintances,” he pressed. “Nick to my friends.”

“Well, thank you, Nick,” Peggy beamed, completely unaware of anything amiss between her two companions.

Mr. Crowley turned his expectant gaze upon Marilee.

“Thank you, Nikolas,” she muttered.

He raised one dark eyebrow, his only reply.

She huffed again. “Fine, Nick,” she amended. She hated how personal his name sounded on her lips. Using his surname had been much safer. Now she would forever be plagued by her mind referring to him in the intimate manner that one’s lover might use when whispering in the dark. She felt her cheeks redden at the intrusive thought and clapped her hands to the heated skin. This time Peggy did notice and raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Crowley, Nick, simply chuckled and bid them farewell.

“Good heavens, you have feelings for him!” Peggy squealed before he could have possibly been out of earshot.

Marilee hissed for her silence. “I do not,” she lied. “It is only that he has been kind.”

“You do have feelings!” Peggy argued. “And why shouldn’t you?”

“I’ve decided to leave him for you,” Marilee parried. It was an ineffective excuse, and she well knew it.

---