Master's Match Read online

  He stood to greet her, revealing a fine figure of a young man. The gesture gave her the impression that he could treat her as a person of high station—an experience unknown to her. “Sit down, please.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. The fact he offered her a seat surprised her.

  He returned to the leather chair behind his desk. She noticed it held papers stacked in neat piles that weren’t too large. No doubt he paid every paper bill on time, maybe even before it was due. “No doubt you already know that I am Nash Abercrombie.”

  “Y–yes, sir.” She stole a glance of his face and held her breath.

  “Do you know why I summoned you?”

  She clasped her hands more tightly. “No, sir. I hope my work is satisfactory. If it ain’t, I can learn. I promise. My mother says I always catch on real good.” Realizing she rambled and had repeated an unfortunate phrase that brought her unspoken insult before, she bit her lip.

  He smiled with warmth. “I have no doubt you are smart. Very smart. And as for your work, I’ve heard no complaints. I have another reason for summoning you. I wanted to see if you are who I think you are. Did you perchance ever sell lucifers on Meeting Street?”

  “I did.” So maybe that’s what this was all about. “So ya remember the night ya saved my life.” Her voice sounded more hopeful than she meant, and her smile felt too wide.

  “Yes, I do recall that bitter night. But you say I saved your life? I hardly think I can credit myself with such a noble deed.”

  “Oh, but ya did! If ya hadn’t come along when ya did, I’d of stayed out in that cold, dark night till I froze to death. Cook told me I’m supposed to be invisible and not talk to ya none, so I hope ya don’t mind if I take this chance to tell ya thank ya, sir. Ya have my eternal gratitude, and I promise to work hard while I’m in yer employ to show just how grateful I am.”

  “You need not work harder than you must. An honest day’s work is all I expect from anyone in my employ.” He leaned forward. “I admit, I was drawn to you when I saw you here, just as I was drawn to you when you were selling lucifers all those years ago. I never could explain why something in your eyes caught my attention, but I never forgot you.”

  Though his eyes held nothing but kindness, a fleeting thought unsettled her. She’d heard stories of unscrupulous masters, and she wasn’t about to relinquish her virtue to him or any man. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned just how grateful she was. “Thank ya, sir.” She looked at her cotton-covered knees.

  To her relief, she heard him shift back in his chair, so she summoned the courage to return her gaze to him.

  “I was only out that night to run an important errand. It was not my habit to wander the streets in the dark, but I’m glad I had the chance to buy lucifers from you.” He paused. “Tell me about yourself.”

  She flinched. What could she tell him? That her family lived in poverty? That her father insisted she wed an oaf or get a job because of yet another new baby on the way? After taking a deep breath, she told him about her life. The version she recounted softened the harsh reality without engaging in a fib.

  His eyes showed compassion. “I don’t find your situation surprising. I understand you had no chance to return home since you were just hired. Does your mother know where you are?”

  “No, sir.”

  He glanced at a small clock on his desk. “It’s far too late for you to wander the streets alone. I’ll have a messenger send word to your family.”

  “Thank ya, sir.” She thought for a moment and asked, “Are ya always so kind to yer servants?”

  “I hope they all think me kind, although I have set my attention on you in particular for a reason. I have a question for you. You have nothing to lose by answering, even if your response is to decline.” He let out a breath, as if bolstering himself to ask.

  What could make him nervous, such a powerful man asking a favor of a mere scullery maid?

  “Go ahead,” she prodded, hoping he didn’t mind.

  “My request is unorthodox. . .”

  There was that word again. Apparently it was quite popular with the upper classes. She resolved to find out what it meant.

  “. . .and I pray you won’t be offended, but you see, I’m in quite a pinch and I really need your help.”

  “My help? But I ain’t nothin’ but a maid, and the lowest maid at that. What could I possibly do for ya?”

  “Something I hope you will find easy.” He took in another breath. “Miss Hanham, will you marry me?”

  Four

  Becca felt too astounded to answer. From a scullery maid to a fiancée in a matter of hours? No, he couldn’t be proposing marriage.

  “I can see from the expression on your face that you’re shocked. Of course you are,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t ask you in the proper manner.” To Becca’s further surprise, he rose and made his way toward her. “Would you stand, please?”

  Too amazed to do anything but obey, she did.

  He bent down on one knee and took her hands in his. “Becca Hanham, will you marry me?”

  She wished she could sit in a chair nearby, for the feeling of weakness in her knees once again made its presence known. Instead she summoned her strength and answered, “Sir, this must be a joke.”

  His face turned serious. “I assure you, it is not.”

  “You want me to marry you?” She felt dizzy with emotion.

  “Yes. I know you weren’t expecting me to propose, but since I noticed you, I have given the prospect thought and prayer. Please, think and pray on it overnight if you like.” Still he remained on his knee.

  “I don’t need that much time. I–I’m flattered. More than flattered.” Never would she have imagined a man of such importance bending his knee before her. A vision of Micah entered her head. His future wife would be lucky if he demanded marriage before belching and then insisting that she pour him a portion of ale. Becca wished her position in society would permit her to wed the man before her. “Please, you don’t have to stay on yer knee.”

  With the agility of a sportsman, he arose. The thought occurred to Becca that other than seeing his house and learning about his servants, she knew almost nothing about this man. But that wasn’t the only reason she hesitated. “I can’t accept. I don’t know why ya took leave of yer senses, but once ya wake up, ye’ll see yer family wouldn’t allow us to wed.”

  Deep sadness filled his countenance, and she wished she hadn’t caused it. “I was the only child of my parents, may the Lord rest their souls, and I have no other family. At least, not any family close enough in relationship with me to care or to be affected in any significant way by our marriage.”

  Thinking of her large family, the idea of such solitude made her sad. Yet Nash didn’t live outside of the world like a monk. He knew people. “But yer friends. . .”

  “Any friends of mine who wouldn’t accept my choice of a wife are not my friends.”

  She felt too touched for words, but she had to respond. If he spoke the truth—and his conviction made him seem as though he did—she still worried about the consequences of the match. “Why me? And why now? I ain’t nothin’ but a match girl ya remember from years ago, and ye’re a young man that bought me wares so I could take refuge from the bitter night. But as much as I am grateful to ya—and I am, I can promise ya that—that ain’t no reason to marry me or fer me to marry ya, either.”

  “Do I not have enough to offer you?”

  She gasped. “How could ya ask such a thing? Ya have so much to offer any woman. I know ye’re a Christian. I see a Bible on your desk, and Cook told me ya lead the servants in prayers each mornin’. I want a Christian man.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Your spirit is so sweet.”

  She felt herself blush, and she looked downward. “But I want even more than that. Mebbe I’m expectin’ too much, but I want to love—really love—the man I marry one day.”

  His expression softened. “Your response shows me how right I was
to ask.”

  “Come again?”

  “You obviously have no idea how many women would jump at the chance to seize me for my fortune regardless of their personal feelings for me one way or another. I realize you might not know exactly who I am, but anyone can see from my home that God has rained financial blessings on my family. And your first thought? That my marriage to you would adversely affect me. And that you don’t love me. At least not yet.” Becca would have sworn she almost saw mist in his eyes. “To be with someone so unaffected is refreshing. You have no idea.”

  She couldn’t imagine any woman wanting such a compassionate and handsome man only for his fortune, but thought saying so would be much too bold. “Love is very important to me. Some might say too important. But I don’t agree with ’em.”

  “And neither do I.”

  Preparing herself to say one of the hardest things she imagined she’d ever have to say in her life, Becca inhaled and steeled herself. “Then ya understand why I gotta say no.”

  “Please don’t answer me yet. I know my question comes as a surprise. A shock, even.” He glanced at the empty chair. “Please. Take a seat and hear me out.”

  She nodded and obeyed.

  He returned to his seat behind his desk, crossing his arms as he settled into position. “I know it sounds harsh, but I have a reason for my proposal. You see, I wish to discourage a woman named Hazel Caldwell. She’s a member of my set and has many family connections, but I have every reason to believe that her family fortune is dwindling and she’s looking for security. She sees my money as her security.”

  “How awful!” Becca blurted before she could stop herself. Embarrassed, she looked at her lap. “I’m sorry. I should never have said that.”

  Nash’s mouth twisted into a rueful curve. “Truth be told, I can hardly expect any woman not to consider my fortune when thinking of marriage to me. But I want my future wife to consider me as a person, just as I would consider her—as I consider you—a person. You and I are alike, you see. I don’t believe it’s right for me to marry a woman I don’t love and who doesn’t love me.”

  So Cook had been right! Mr. Abercrombie was in a terrible romantic mess with a frightful woman.

  Nash continued. “I realize we don’t know each other well enough to discern love or not. We need not wed right away. Could we use our engagement as a time to get to know one another? I vow to you that if you decide not to go through with the wedding, I will set you free with no further obligation whatsoever.”

  Thinking through his offer, Becca didn’t answer right away.

  “Perhaps I do sound foolish.” He leaned toward her, and his eyes looked imploring. “Do you think me ridiculous to want to marry for love?”

  “No, sir.”

  His smile was bittersweet. “You are so lucky, Miss Hanham. You don’t have to consider society and position when you wed. You are free to marry whomever you like.”

  “That ain’t so, sir.”

  He startled. “Oh?”

  “Ya see, I’m only here ’cause me father said I had to find a job or marry somebody I don’t love.”

  “Really?” Surprise registered on his expression, and his eyes held a questioning look.

  Becca could only imagine that he wondered, without fortunes and connections to consider, why there would be a need for her father to suggest a loveless match. Sheltered from poverty as Nash was, Becca doubted he could comprehend deep desire to improve one’s lot in whatever way, however miniscule. She might explain that to him. One day, but not now.

  “You left the marriage out of the story you told me before,” he pointed out, choosing discretion.

  “I didn’t think ye’d care about it, to tell the truth.”

  He smiled. “I suppose if I were an ordinary employer, I wouldn’t. But I’m glad you told me. The fact that you might be able to understand my predicament gives me some consolation.”

  “Yes, I do.” If only Becca could agree to his solution, but she was still unsure. “There must be a lot of grand ladies who’d want to marry ya, Mr. Abercrombie, if ya don’t mind me sayin’ so. What about one o’ them?”

  “They consider me unavailable because Miss Caldwell is a force with whom to be reckoned.” He shrugged. “I may have the power to change the right woman’s mind, but I don’t feel drawn to them enough to pursue anything beyond an acquaintanceship.”

  Becca felt pity for the master, a surprising emotion considering that by all appearances, he sat on top of the world. His servants knew him as a captain of commerce in Providence. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Let me summon my driver, Jack, to take you home tonight. I don’t think he’s gone to the pub yet. Take the morning off, and give me your answer during afternoon tea tomorrow.

  ❧

  Later, Nash escorted Becca to his carriage and helped her embark. With amusement and pleasure, he noted how she observed the conveyance with wide eyes, much as she had noticed the house. So in awe was she that she seemed to be walking in glass slippers, reminding him of the little cinder girl in the old fairy tale. He hoped he could be Becca’s prince.

  Returning to his study to tidy up the last bit of remaining correspondence, Nash found himself daydreaming about Becca. When he told her he had prayed about whether or not to ask her hand in marriage, he had not exaggerated. The open Bible he had left on the table beside his chair told a tale of how he had consulted scripture as he prayed. The fact Becca was not the expected choice for him would indeed cause consternation in certain quarters, but his heart told him the fair young lady was worth getting to know. Being with her as a potential wife would never be possible if she were to remain his servant, but his daring proposal put her in a new position. If Becca agreed to give him a chance, he felt certain the feelings she had already stirred in his heart would grow. If only time spent together would cause love to pour into her heart as well. He hoped he could make her life a better one, not with riches but with a lifetime of love.

  Lord, Thy will be done in this matter.

  ❧

  Mother was in her room tending to the babies, Father was out, and her other brothers and sisters occupied themselves with their own concerns and were not impressed by her comings and goings, so Becca managed to sneak through the front room without being noticed. A lingering scent of porridge didn’t tempt her, even though she never had partaken of soup at the Abercrombie house. Excitement had overcome hunger.

  She headed for the room in back she shared with many sisters. She hoped to find clean water in the plain white pitcher to wash her face so she wouldn’t have to fetch it herself. Eyeing the small oak vanity, she didn’t assess the rest of the room as she walked toward the corner.

  “What are ya doin’ here?” Naomi’s voice pierced the air.

  Becca jumped and clutched her hand to her chest. “Ya scared me to death!”

  “I’m sorry,” a nightshift-clad Naomi apologized, hairbrush in hand. “Ya scared me to death, too!” Recovering in a flash, Naomi looked into a small mirror that had been her Christmas gift. She studied herself before nodding and placing the hairbrush they all shared on the vanity beside the pitcher. “So did ya get a job?”

  “Yea, in a fine home for a wonderful master. He lives all alone except for his servants. A devoted lot, they are, but no family.” She sighed. “Much has changed since this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  Becca hesitated, wondering if she should take her sister into her confidence. But she and Naomi had always been close in age and spirit, and the urge to tell someone hounded her. She decided to trust her sister. “The young master asked me to marry him.”

  Naomi plopped onto the nearest mattress. “What? He asked you to marry him? The master of a fine house? I don’t believe it.”

  “I can hardly believe it myself.”

  “Ya think he meant it?”

  “I—I do.”

  Naomi gasped. “Oh, Becca! What are ya goin’ to do?”

  Becc
a placed her forefinger on puckered lips. “Shh! Not so loud. I ain’t said nothin’ to nobody but you.”

  “And it’s a good thing, too. We don’t know nothin’ about livin’ like society people.” She beamed. “But you’ll find out soon.”

  Becca sat by Naomi. “I ain’t accepted yet. And I ain’t sure I’m gonna.”

  “Why not?” Naomi clasped her hands to her chest and looked upward. Becca could see from the faraway look on her face that she saw not the cracked ceiling, but a vision from a different world in another part of Providence. “Just think. Ye’ll never have to work again. Ya can wear dresses that make ya look like ya came out of a store window. Ya can eat rich food and sleep till noon. Mebbe I can visit and we can have tea on a fancy silver service and those little sandwiches that my friend May says she has to fix for her mistress.” She gasped and clutched Becca’s knee. “You’ll be the first person we know who’ll be the mistress of a manor instead of just a servant girl.” As her excitement increased, her voice grew louder.

  “Shh! I told ya I ain’t sure I’m gonna accept. The more ya talk, the more I think mebbe I shouldn’t. He don’t know nothin’ about our family, how we live.” Becca couldn’t help but compare her current surroundings to the Abercrombie residence. What would Nash think once he set foot in such a place?

  Naomi eyed their room and sighed. When she spoke, her discouraged tone of voice told of her agreement. “When do ya have to tell him one way or the other?”

  “I promised I’d show up for afternoon tea tomorrow.” The thought made her nervous. She had little idea what to do at a formal tea, even alone with the man who would be her fiancé. “I might not consider it at all,” she said, omitting how his mere presence made her feel light as a butterfly living in fairyland, “but I’m grateful to him fer savin’ my life that night—the night I told ya about.”