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Eva tapped the carriage roof with her parasol for the driver to continue on, then sat back. “If he knew what you were about—”
“If he knew what steps I’d taken, he’d have father put me under lock and key until I was mother’s age, true enough. But I see no reason that he should know.” Henrietta tossed her head. She turned to look out the window. “We might wish to alight here and make the rest of the journey on foot. It would be rather confusing for your carriage and mine to both be at the same shop, and I must make haste to keep my appointment with the Marquess.”
“There is truth to that.” Eva gave the appropriate instructions to the driver, and the two of them exited unto the still-quiet London streets. Henrietta fell into step beside her friend, her mind wandering back to the previous day.
Yesterday, when the day had begun, and she had been asked to wear thatsheet, she had been scandalized, shocked, and almost ready to forget the whole entire project and retire from the social scene. But she had no clever way of excusing herself from the Marquess, especially since she had approached him for ‘work’.
And then she had begun speaking to him. And though heaven and the Marquess alone knew why he had indulged Hetty Smith’s questions, he had answered her. Short answers—but answers nonetheless.
She wasn’t sure when she had realized that the conversation had become more of a game for both of them, her curiosity against his reticence. She only recalled that at some point she had seen a spark of humor, or some other such whimsical emotion in his stern countenance, and she had realized that his short answers were no longer a matter of natural avoidance.
He had been...well, in any other man, she would say he had beenchallengingher. Flirting with her. Teasing her even. And she had enjoyed it.
It had been a long time since a man had given her such pains to make simple conversation, and she’d been unwilling to lose the impromptu game. And though she had at last cracked through his reserve and gained a full response from him, she could readily concede that the Marquess had come off the better in their engagement.
It was odd, but she did not particularly mind that fact. Not at all. In fact, she was looking forward to a second round, and even the idea of being clad only in a sheet did not shock her so much as it had.
“Henrietta!” Eva’s sharp tone dragged her from her thoughts. She blinked. Eva sighed. “You’ve been so quiet since Andrew left. Whatever are you thinking so hard about?”
“The Marquess, and how to proceed.” She was not going to tell Eva about the previous day’s events. She would only be scandalized.
“Have you made any progress with him? Any at all?” Eva was studying her face. “You did say he had engaged you to model for him, did you not?”
“I did, and yesterday was the first session.”
“So, tell me about him.” Eva smiled. “Is he as handsome as all the rumors indicate? What is his work room like? What ishelike?”
Henrietta swallowed down the bolt of unexpected defensiveness that shivered through her and tried to keep her voice even. For some reason, she did not want to talk about what she and the Marquess had shared in their interactions.
Lord above, I am supposed to be matching Eva and the Marquess! Not trying to court him myself!The very idea of it…
“He is quite handsome.” She didn’t mention the scars she’d seen on his arms. It seemed rather too personal to share. “His work room is...I do believe it used to be a solar for ladies, and it is quite well lit, even if it is all over with marble dust and tools. As for the Marquess himself, he is...an unusual man. Quiet. Taciturn. He does not speak much.”
“But surely you convinced him to say something! Did he tell you stories about his days in the wars? Did you see his scars?”
“Eva!” Henrietta herself started at the archness of her tone. She took a breath. “Eva, I’ve only just met the man! And he was hardly going to be undressing in front of me, so of course I did not see any scars—if scars he has.” A small lie, but not one she felt any regret for. “And of course, he did not talk about his days as a soldier. He was entirely preoccupied with his work.”
“Oh, all right. It’s only that some of the young men in the ton enjoy sharing stories of soldiering, and I thought he might as well.”
“No. Most of his attention was on the marble. He scarce spoke two words at a time to me.”Except at the end.But she was not going to tell Eva aboutthat.
“Come now, Henrietta, you must have learned something. At least tell me what sort of style he favors.”
“His hair is longish. As for style, why, I hardly know. He was wearing clothing for working with stone, not for a stroll in the park or an engagement with his peers.”
“Well, his favorite food then.”
“I should hardly be able to guess.” She was not going to bring up the fruit tart incident with Eva. “Eva, I have made much progress, and I am confident I shall be able to make arrangements for your meeting with the Marquess soon enough. But you must give me a little more time.” She huffed in exasperation, struggling to keep her tone light in the face of Eva’s questions. “It has not even been a fortnight since the wager began, and only two days since I began to work in earnest.”
“Well, at least tell me if you think I have a chance with him. Papa is looking to have me marry someone in the peerage, and I should not mind if it is the Marquess. Do you think the match would work between us?”
No.Henrietta bit her lip at the surge of angry denial that washed over her. She covered the moment with a wave of her gloved hand, hoping she appeared more to be considering than unhappy.
And why should she be unhappy? Her goal was to match the Marquess with Eva, and she did not think it impossible. Certainly, he was not the most demonstrative man, quite reserved in fact, but she did think that Eva and the Marquess would fare...well, she did not think the match impossible.
She was saved from answering by their arrival at the modiste, and by their near collision with the woman who was exiting the shop. All three of them stopped.
Henrietta blinked. She’d had no idea that the Duchess of Merriweather attended the same modiste as Eva. She dipped into a polite curtsy. “Duchess! Good morning, Your Grace.” Eva followed suit.
