“And you,” Mrs. Price hissed at the woman whose hand he held. “I don’t want to see your face again.”
Thomas glanced at the victim of these barbs as he pulled her up, and his heart jumped into his throat. It was the woman in the blue turban. He stared at her, into her almond shaped eyes that wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than he, and her skin reminded him of burnished mahogany. Though he could tell she was humiliated at being covered in milk and chocolate, she held her head high like a queen.
“I don’t think we’ve met, Miss...?”
“Sawyer,” she answered, her eyes flicking down again. Her voice was a rich alto and carried with it the faint cadence of the West Indies. “I should gather my things and go.” She pulled her hand from his.
Go? But he’d just found her. And then he remembered Mrs. Price’s orders. Thomas always placed people he trusted in positions of power, and he was not in the habit of gainsaying them. But he would be damned if he would allow Miss Sawyer out of his sight. “That’s not necessary. You can clean up and go back to work.”
She frowned, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. “But Mrs. Price—”
Thomas glanced at his manager, who was already handing out small cinnamon cakes. “Perhaps you should avoid Mrs. Price. I’ll send one of the shop employees over to this side. Come with me.” He gestured for Miss Sawyer to follow him, but she looked down at Miss Ridley, who was still cleaning up the mess on the floor. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll send a man with a mop to clean up. I can spare a man in the back.”
With Miss Sawyer trailing behind him, he moved staff here and there until he spotted Alfred in the back room, where he’d found men with mops and brooms to assist with the tidying of the coffee room. Alfred gaped at him, and Thomas, having forgotten the spilled coffee, glanced down at himself.
“Sir, what happened to you?”
“Slight accident, Alfred. Miss Sawyer, meet Mr. Miller. He oversees the entirety of Bond Street Coffee & Tobacco.”
Alfred nodded. “Miss Sawyer, we met yesterday.”
“Mr. Miller is the one who gave me the position,” she said, her voice low and mournful. “I’m so sorry to have let you down, sir.”
Alfred glanced at Thomas. “I’m assuming there was some sort of mishap with a coffee tray?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps Miss Sawyer’s talents don’t lie in serving coffee, Alfred,” Thomas said. “Mrs. Price would rather...well, can you find Miss Sawyer another position?”
If Alfred was surprised at the request, he did not show it. “Certainly. And, sir, might I suggest you change clothing before meeting with the investors this afternoon?”
“Good idea.” He would have liked to speak to Miss Sawyer longer, but it wouldn’t do to single her out. He was her employer, and he was well aware of the power of his position. “Miss Sawyer.” He nodded his head in dismissal. He started up the stairs to his office, only glancing back briefly to see Alfred conversing with Miss Sawyer. His manager scratched his head several times, clearly trying to decide what new position to give her. She couldn’t work in the front with her clothing stained as it was, and it was all men in the back room as the work of carrying and stacking tobacco and coffee was strenuous. Thomas had the urge to go back down and find a place for her himself, but he forced himself into his office, closing the door only halfway. He liked to hear what was happening downstairs.
His stack of extremely important documents had not magically diminished, and he sighed when he looked at them then went to the window. Bond Street was busy this time of day. He hadn’t expected his coffee room to be so popular. In Wapping it had taken a few months for word of mouth to spread and patrons to fill his shop. London was continually surprising him. He’d ask Alfred to hire more servers and make certain to take the investors into the shop and the coffee room so they could see he was already busy and prosperous.
And if he was already this busy, he had better look at the orders for next week. He went to his desk and rifled through his papers until he found them, then spent the next 30 minutes revising the budget and the orders. Finally, after the third time he’d pulled his wet sticky shirt from his skin, he remembered that he’d come in here to change clothing.
He had a trunk with several changes of clothing inside. He often slept at the store, which was one reason he had comfortable chairs placed in his office. There was no reason to go home at one in the morning if he’d only be returning at seven. Thomas had begun enough businesses to know the first weeks and months could be grueling. He crossed to the trunk and pulled out clean clothing, stripping off his coat, shirt, and waistcoat as he did so. Carrying the clean clothing behind the screen in the corner of his room, Thomas stripped down. He splashed water on his face from the basin and ewer and rubbed it down his body to clean off the coffee residue, though he didn’t think he’d ever get rid of the smell.
He pulled on clean trousers and shook out his shirt. From somewhere behind him, he heard a gasp. Turning, he stared into the shocked face of Miss Sawyer. For a moment he was so glad to see her that he didn’t remember he was half-dressed.
“I am so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—I was coming to—” Tears gathered in her eyes. Too strong a reaction for a woman who’d merely come upon a shirtless man. It had to be something more.
And he knew what it was.
Heat burned his face, and he abruptly yanked on his shirt. “What do you want?” he said more harshly than he’d intended. Now that he had the shirt on, he turned his back to her again and began to fasten it at the neck. “Do you always barge into rooms without knocking?”
“I’m so sorry, sir. The door was open, and I just wanted to—” She broke off, and he looked over his shoulder at her. She stood stiff and erect, her eyes fixed on a wall instead of him. “I’ll leave you. In fact, I should probably find another position, but...”
He was curious now. Well, he’d been curious since the first moment he saw her. He pulled on his waistcoat. “But?”
She glanced at him. “I need the money too desperately. I—” She blinked rapidly then put a hand to her forehead. She’d gone rather ashen, and Thomas rushed over to her.
“Sit in my chair.” He guided her to his desk and held her arm until she was lowered into the chair. Pouring a glass of water from the decanter nearby, he handed it to her. “Drink this.”
She nodded and drank a small sip. “Thank you. I don’t know what happened. I feel much better now.” She tried to rise, but he put his hands on her shoulders.
“Not so quickly, Miss Sawyer. When was the last time you ate?”
“This morning.”
Thomas knew a lie when he heard one. Even if she hadn’t hesitated a fraction too long before she’d spoken, he would have known from the way her eyes shifted and her voice hitched. “Miss Sawyer, the truth, please.”
She took a deep breath and raised her chin, her manner regal. “I’ve been a bit short of funds lately.”
He raised a brow. Her manner had gone from weak to imperial in a matter of seconds. “How short?”
“I will be fine.” Now she did rise, brushing his hands from her shoulders. “If I can manage not to spill coffee on you or burst in on you when you are changing again, I will prove to you that I am a valuable employee.”