Page 14 of Aurelia

He smiled, evidently finding even her silence humorous, and then picked up a piece of parchment from the desk. “I recently had a very interesting letter from Sir Ian Rowan.”

Aurelia had done work for Sir Ian on more than one occasion, but always under her male nom de plume. “I see,” she said, although she did not see at all.

“When I told him that I’d engaged you he was most effusive in praising the work you did for him.”

“That is very kind of him.” Aurelia wondered if the earl had also shared the fact that she was not Albert Burton, but Aurelia Burton.

“Never fear, I referred to you as Albert. Who you decide to tell about your gender is your affair,” he said, reading her thoughts far too accurately for her comfort. “Although I don’t suppose it can stay a secret for long with so many people in the area knowing about you.”

“I assumed when I took this position that I would no longer use a male alias for my future work.” She hesitated. “That is… if you do not have any objection to me signing my work as Aurelia Burton.”

“None at all,” he said, studying her with an intensity she suspected he normally reserved for flora and fauna specimens. “I must admit that you are something of a surprise, Miss Burton.”

“How so, my lord?” she asked, her voice becoming colder as it always did when she was at her most nervous and vulnerable.

“Not only are you a great deal younger than I expected—”

“I am of legal age and hardly a child.”

“No, you are hardly a child,” he agreed.

Why was it that everything the man said sounded like a double entendre?

“I can tell from your accent that you are gently born,” the earl went on.

“Does that present a problem for you, my lord?”

“A problem? No. But you must be aware that living in my house for the next year—with no chaperone—will likely cause the sort of speculation that will have a negative effect on your future.”

“By future I assume you mean my marital prospects.”

He gave her an almost gentle smile. “Among other things. I’m afraid that your reputation cannot benefit by living in proximity to me, Miss Burton.”

“I am devoted to my work and do not aspire to marriage. So preserving my reputation is not a priority for me.”

“And your father approves of your decision to work here?”

“My father is dead.” As useless as her father was, Aurelia still felt a twinge of guilt at killing him off so heartlessly, but she wanted to present herself as an adult, not a girl still under her parents’ protection. “As for my mother,” she said, before the earl could ask, “she has been bedbound for years.”

“She might be bedridden, but she must have an opinion about her unwed daughter taking a position in the house of a widower?”

“I have already given the matter of my reputation adequate, and final, consideration,” she said. “Unless you believe it has any bearing on my ability to work, I have nothing else to say on the subject.”

Lord Crewe laughed, evidently delighted. “And now I have been put in my place.”

Aurelia didn’t dispute that.

“Very well. I will not broach the topic again. Instead, let us discuss my expectations. First, all the paintings need to be presented to my engraver in Edinburgh no later than a year from now, where they will be used to make plates using etching, engraving, and aquatint. In addition to my specimens, you will be working on my deceased wife’s samples.”

Aurelia searched his face for any sign of grief as he talked about his countess.

She found none.

“I have sold subscriptions for a two-volume work comprised of flora and fauna. The projected release date for the first volume is two years from now.”

“And how many drawings do you anticipate requiring?”

“Two-hundred-and-twenty-three.”