Chapter 6
Perry turned up the lamp she’d left burning as a night light and carried it to the table.
She traced a finger over the first picture. The neckline of the gown was the same as the one she’d worn the day he’d brought her the designs she’d commissioned for the ballroom floor. Had she smiled like that? Not for him.
The second and third were from her brother’s wedding ball, where Fox had danced with her, a waltz, holding her breathlessly close the entire time.
She turned the page. It was another sketch of her, on a street, her maid at her side, as if he’d spotted her through a window.
She stared into the lamp’s flame. After she’d seen his painting in the shop window and discovered his direction, she’d escaped from her carriage one day, and hurried off to his street, looking for his lodging. The landlady had said he wasn’t at home. Perry had scribbled a note and handed it over with a few coins to the happy woman, who had no doubt already extracted another coin from Fox for his lie.
The dressing room door squeaked.
“What’s that, miss?” Jenny leaned over her shoulder. “Why that’s you and Gladys!”
“Yes.”
“It’s Mr. Fox’s work?” Her eyes were saucers.
“Yes. Did I wake you?”
Jenny bit her lip. “I heard you go up the stairs.”
She flipped through more pages. They were all sketches of her. Some from several months ago, some of her as a young girl at Cransdall.
“And he gave you that?” Jenny’s voice held awe. “They are very like.”
“I took it. I don’t think he wanted me to see it.”
Jenny clasped her hands together. “He’s sweet on you, miss.”
Jenny’s eyes held a look far too dreamy and romantic. “There is nothing sweet about Fox.”
The girl pressed her lips together on a smile. “He’s handsome, miss. And a good enough cook. But you would know best.”
A door opened somewhere below.
Jenny straightened and glanced to the door. “I don’t think I can sleep in this house.”
They went to opposite windows.
“Over here, miss,” Jenny hissed.
Perry turned down the lamp and hurried over. The stable door that she had latched so securely stood open.
Alarm bells rang in her head. Chestnut and the other horses might be in danger.
“Mr. Fox went down, do you think?” Jenny asked.
“Or he might be in the kitchen ready to spring out. I should join him.”
Two men exited the stables, a tall one and a very tall one.
Her nerves jangled. There was no mistaking Fox. “Fox has a visitor.”
Jenny drew in a sharp breath.
“What?” Perry whispered.
