Page 29 of The Devil to Pay

On her return, she settled herself down at the table with pen and paper and demanded. “Where shall I begin?”

“At the beginning,” he suggested, like a fool.

Almost three hours later, and Jules’ head hurt, not to mention his self-esteem. He’d quickly discovered Davenport trying to pull her punches was worse than when she said exactly what she thought. She didn’t do tact well. He’d told her not to spare him and to give it to him plainly and, by God, she had. She had made reams of notes, in a neat, precise hand, detailing all his errors, followed by suggestions and comments about how he could have done better. Some of these were so obvious, he could not understand why he hadn’t seen them himself. Others were certainly eye opening, and he’d wished she had read his draft version, for he could see how her critical eye could have made all the difference. There were a few suggestions he’d baulked at, and they’d enjoyed a vigorous disagreement over those, which had been as stimulating as it was maddening.

Now, he sat with his head in his hands, staring down at the table, trying to ignore his throbbing temples, and so didn’t at once realise she’d stopped speaking.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, her voice tight.

He looked up, wondering what he’d missed.

“I’ve said too much, haven’t I? I knew I ought not to have… only, you asked, and it’s so rare a man who isn’t working for me asks my opinion and—”

“Davenport.”

“And I thought you meant it, but of course, I’ve run on too long and overstepped and—”

“Davenport!”

She jolted, looking at him in alarm.

“Would you read the draft of my next book, whatever it is, and give me your thoughts as you go? I could send it to you, a few chapters at a time, perhaps.”

She blinked at him, her blue eyes wide and startled.

“You w-want me to criticise you some more?” she said in astonishment.

Jules snorted, as it certainly seemed a ridiculous thing for him to request. He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “God help me, I do. Isn’t that all your dreams come true?”

She gave a startled bark of laughter that delighted him. “Yes!” she said at once, making him laugh too.

“Dreadful creature,” he said, shaking his head.

She sent him a doubtful look but smiled a little shyly, belatedly realising that he had only been teasing, and his heart gave an odd kick in his chest. He stood suddenly, gathering up the papers she had written for him.

“Would you look at the time!” he said, in a rush. “You’ll be late for dinner, and Briggs will wonder where I’ve got to.”

She stood too as he looked about for his coat and shrugged it on haphazardly. He suddenly had the urgent desire to get as far away from her as possible.

“Will you come back in the morning, then?” she asked him, an uncertain note in her voice. “Or… Or will you return home now? I suppose you can send me your work easily enough and there’s no need to continue this silly charade after all.”

Jules hesitated. He didn’t want to stay, not now, not after… but he’d promised. She was all alone here, for there was no one of any use to help her and the library was important. It was important to her, because her mother had loved books, and she needed it in order again. So he nodded, knowing he’d do better to stay away, for both their sakes.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll come in the morning.”

Chapter 11

Lucian,

Would you happen to have the slightest idea where my son and heir has hidden himself away this time? If the rumours circulating the ton are true, he may be halfway to Timbuktu by now and with good reason.

I wish I knew how to reach the ridiculous boy, though he’s a grown man now for all I worry for him the same as when he was six years old and contracted the measles. I thought he would die, you know. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Thank God for Pippin, or ought I thank some pagan goddess? She certainly thought so.

I feel like I’m missing something obvious and for once my duchess refuses to enlighten me. She insists I must work it out with Jules myself but I’m damned if I know how. He makes me so furious when I see him wasting his talent, his life, on frivolity. I would not mind so much if I thought it made him happy, but he seems wretched, more so whenever he must face me over his latest scandal. Hence the disappearing act. If this one is true, I think it will be bad, God help him.

Do you fare any better with Pip? And here we were thinking we knew where we were with sons. What fools.

Yrs, etc.