Audrey looked down at her gloves and back at Henry. “I really should not have been so imprudent to come to your place of business. I should have written you a note.”
“Really. It’s fine,” he reassured her. “I’m glad you sought me out.”
They both heard the mantle clock chime, and he was surprised at the late afternoon hour. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day.”
Audrey hesitated. “I am hungry.”
“Come. You can’t tell me you wish to return to the workhouse for its cuisine,” he asked.
“No, indeed.”
“Then let’s away. I know a place nearby. The Maids Head for tea.” He grabbed his hat in excitement at the thought of spending more time with her.
She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Very well.”
Outside his office, he informed his clerk that he was leaving for the evening, and his clerk gave him a searching glance before they were gone.
Chapter Eleven
They sat together, and Audrey admired the small tearoom before she turned her attention to the handsome man before her. They ordered, and their tea arrived quickly.
“The Maids Head dates back almost eight hundred years. I’m sure you’ll like it,” he told her.
She took a sip of her tea and loved how the flavors mixed together. “I do like it.”
He leaned in as if he were imparting a secret to her. “I’ve heard it said that the hotel is haunted.”
She glanced around. “Is it also a hotel?”
He leaned back in his seat. “Yes.”
“Who haunts it?” she asked.
“Apparently a woman has been seen floating around the corridors with a strong scent of lavender. She is rumored to have been a maid at the hotel,” Henry told her as he sipped his tea.
Audrey smiled. “Of course, she would smell of lavender. It would be so off-putting if she smelled of ale.”
He laughed and took a scone. “You seem to be settling in quite well now. I’m glad.”
She beamed. “Bringing my family here will help tremendously. And the cottage! I can’t wait to dress it up.” She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “Thank you. Truly. It means so much to me to have them here with me. I’m grateful.”
He could feel the warmth of her hand covering his, and he was about to respond when he saw two people out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and his heart sank.
This was possibly the worst situation he could imagine.
“Henry,” Nanette Keene said, as she coolly acknowledged him, looking at their hands entwined on the table.
He turned to the black-haired woman standing next to her. “Hello, Della.”
“Hello, Henry,” she said, her voice a quiet tone.
Audrey took back her hand as she looked at the two women and then at Henry.
Henry caught himself. “I’m sorry. Nanette, you may already know fr
om the meeting but allow me to introduce you properly. Nanette Keene, Della Keene, this is Audrey Wakefield.”
“We have met before but not officially,” Nanette said. “My daughter and I come here often. I thought you remembered that, Henry.”