A weary sigh quivered upon those rosy lips. “It no longer matters.”
Her brief responses would likely drive him mad before they were through. They were like tiny pebbles creating a trail one agonizing minute at a time. With his appetite for more considerably whetted, he finally gave in and leaned toward her. “Indulge me.”
5
Piercing dark eyes, burning with interest, seared Calista to the bone. She’d no idea why Mr. Donahue wanted to know more about her or why the identity of the man she’d meant to marry interested him. Whatever his reason, however, he did not seem inclined to drop the subject until she’d satisfied his curiosity.
Very well then. She could be honest about this at least.
“Mr. Peter Westchester.”
Mr. Donahue stared at her assessingly. “Mr. John Westchester’s eldest son?”
Surprise struck Calista’s spine with a pang. She sucked in a breath. “You’re familiar with the family?”
“Certainly. Mr. John Westchester owns the flooring business where I purchased most of the tiles used throughout the hotel. He imports the highest quality marble but also produces porcelain tiles here in England.”
“Of course,” Calista muttered. So much for her intention of dismissing the Westchesters as a family of little consequence.
Mr. Donahue kept his steady gaze upon her. “Not to dredge up unpleasantries, Miss Smith, but I attended Mr. Peter Westchester’s funeral over a month ago.”
Calista clenched her jaw while staring back at the man who now had the power to determine her fate. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, he died before I departed New York. The letters he sent made it clear he was not in the best of health, but I did not expect him to…” She dropped her gaze to her lap and hoped Mr. Donahue had not noticed the slight quiver creeping into her voice. Hardening her words, she added, “His family didn’t know about me so you can imagine their surprise and outrage when I showed up on their doorstep. It was unbearable.”
“I gather they turned you away?”
“With swift efficiency.” She shook her head. “I had some funds with me, though they were quickly depleted on food and lodgings.”
She did not add the fact that she’d been robbed on top of everything else. The nearly three hundred dollars in savings she’d brought along with her so she’d not be completely dependent on Peter had disappeared from her room while she went to call on the Westchesters. In hindsight it had been stupid to leave all that money behind, but the boarding house had seemed respectable enough and she’d been more afraid of encountering a pickpocket in the street.
“Why didn’t you purchase a return ticket as soon as you learned of Mr. Westchester’s death? Instead of paying for lodgings?”
She raised her chin sharply in response to the criticism she heard in his voice. Clearly he thought her an idiot, and perhaps she was. She certainly wasn’t as capable as she’d believed herself to be when she left home. “Because I missed the return trip and was forced to wait for the next one. So I had no choice but to…”
“But to what?” Mr. Donahue asked with tightly strung tension.
Calista sighed. What was the use in trying to maintain her pride when it was practically in the gutter? Still, she kept her poise as she said, “But to seek employment, which took nearly a week and forced me to sell what I could in order to earn a few coins. No one would hire me, though.”
“Mr. Greene, it would seem, took exception.”
“Only because he was told to. By you, I believe.” When he showed no hint of recollection, she said, “I am immensely grateful for the chance I’ve been given, Mr. Donahue. At least while I’ve been here I’ve managed to save on rent.”
“And yet you’ve a strange way of showing your appreciation,” he murmured. “The hair in the Hollandaise was clearly yours. No one else’s is as fair.”
Calista’s skin pricked as heat washed the back of her neck. Even so, she would do what she could to defend herself, since the idea of getting tossed out was more daunting than facing down Mr. Donahue’s censure. “I am a scullery maid, sir. As such, I do not go near the dishes being prepared for serving. Which means someone probably planted that hair in an effort to get me sacked.”
He regarded her as if she were some curiosity that belonged to a travelling circus. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Any one of the servants in your employ. They all hate me.”
“Because you’re American or because you’re highborn?” Her mouth fell open, prompting him to give a derisive snort. “Did you honestly think I would not notice when both your speech and your bearing are deeply affected by it?”
She shook her head and stared at him in horrified silence. Her heart hammered frantically against her breast.
“Who are you related to?” he asked while her throat grew dry and her hands began to tremble. “Is your name really Smith?”
“It is until I return home,” she told him stubbornly.
“I can help you with that by the way. As long as you agree to a few stipulations.”
Apprehension raced through her veins. She instinctively stood, forcing him to his feet as well. “No. Whatever it is you have in mind, I shan’t do it.”
His anger was immediate. “I am trying to help you, for God’s sake.”
“Are you? Or are you just another person intent on taking advantage?”
“Advantage of what?” He stared at her with so much incredulity she could not help but wonder if perhaps she’d been overly rash in her haste to make him a villain. “What the hell do you think I have in mind?”
An unexpected rush of tears brought on by every wretched experience she’d had in this place burst past her defenses to further humiliate her. She couldn’t bring herself to answer his question honestly, so she just stood there, quietly sobbing while praying a hole would soon appear in the floor to swallow her up.
“Christ.”
A handkerchief was shoved under her nose. Calista gulped down a breath and took it. “Thank you.”
Mr. Donahue crossed to the side table where he proceeded to fill two glasses with what appeared to be brandy. He handed one to her as soon as she was done drying her eyes and promptly took a sip of his own. She followed suit, only wincing a little in response to the spicy heat sliding down her throat to soothe her insides.
“What I meant to suggest is that I will secure a ticket for your return to New York since you’re clearly out of your depth here in London. But since this does make me responsible for your safety, I absolutely insist on a chaperone. Which could take a while to procure.”
“I managed to travel to England without one,” Calista pointed out.
“Against your parents’ wishes, I’m sure.” When she flattened her mouth in response to that comment he asked, “You ran away. Why?”
His ability to figure her out – to draw correct conclusions based solely on fragments of information he’d pieced together – was truly unnerving. “So I would not have to marry Mr. Thorkilson.”
Mr. Donahue knit his brow. “Who’s he?”