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It had not escaped his notice that she had avoided answering his question, for all that her distraction had been an admittedly enticing one, and one which had temporarily taken all of his attention. And now, in the wake of their activities together, he was more interested in the answer than ever. He could not see a maiden of the ton being so uninhibited with a peer, not even one so reclusive as he. Rumors were dangerous things, after all, and a maid’s reputation could make or destroy her prospects for marriage.
All of a sudden, he felt rather ashamed for letting her tempt him into such behavior. “Hetty…you must not think—”
Cerulean eyes met his. “I should not think this was anything more than a pleasant interlude that would never occur again?” Her eyes shimmered with something like tears.
“I was going to say, that you need not worry I will compromise your reputation. Whether this is a single event or no.” He hoped it wouldn’t be, but there were several concerns to address before anything else could happen.
A soft, sad smile graced her features. “I cannot say that I am much concerned with that. I have little enough to worry about on that front, I think.”
The answer startled him. She could not be a loose woman; he knew that much from her behavior. And yet...she had been rather forward for a lowly maiden, especially since she had made no demands for assurances of his conduct, no attempts to gain any sort of promises from him. Surely, she wasn’t naive enough to believe that intimacy was any sort of promise. He had no intentions of behaving dishonorably, beyond their questionable conduct just moments before, but there were nobles aplenty who would have no scruples about having their way with a maid and leaving her to fend for herself afterward, regardless of any other consequences that might arise.
Perhaps she was one of those few who had once served some of the more permissive members of the ton. There were some, such as himself, who would allow their servants and hirelings a certain number of liberties; some who even accounted those in their employ as— perhaps not friends, exactly, given the unequal nature the relationship must have as a matter of course—but as close as such different stations might allow.
His legs were feeling steady again, and his arms no longer weak. He rose to his feet, adjusted his clothing a bit more, and offered her a hand. She accepted it, still flushed as she rose and attempted to straighten her skirt a bit more and tame her hair. “I…regarding my behavior just now, I do not know what to say.”
“Then say nothing more, though perhaps you might indulge me by answering my original question.” He kept his voice low, but she looked up at him with wide eyes, like a frightened forest creature cornered by hounds. He reached out and stroked her dark hair back from her face. “You need not fear I shall reveal your secrets, nor that I shall take action against your benefactor, whoever they may be. I am simply curious as to the truth of the matter, and I am most interested in knowing more of you and your history…given the recent changes in our relationship.” He smiled.
But still, she did not look reassured. Her lips were trembling, her eyes wide and wet and oddly wounded. He waited, watching the struggle that played in the depths of those cerulean eyes, wondering whether she would answer, and what the answer would be. And how he could respond.
Her lips parted, and a slightly deeper inhalation expanded the generous swell of her bosom. She met his eyes…
And a polite knock shattered the moment, startling both of them. Hetty jumped, clutching the bosom of her dress together as she fumbled with the ties to pull it into proper position and lace it up. Daniel traced a hand through his hair and attempted to make his shirt look moderately presentable as he went to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it ajar just enough to peer through the gap.
Danvers was standing there, his expression carefully inscrutable. Daniel sighed and opened the door further. “What is it? You know I am not to be disturbed while I am working.”
“Forgive me, Lord Salisbury, but you have guests.” The slight stress Danvers laid on the term, and the fact that he had not sent them away told Daniel that it was more than just an inconvenient peddler or another unwanted female intruder.
“I was not aware of any appointments today.” Danvers usually informed him, if he happened to forget, and his trusty servant would have made sure he was aware and had plans in place for Hetty’s occupation, or her dismissal and his excuses, before her arrival.
“I believe they are not expected arrivals. It seems His Grace the Duke of Merriweather made quite free with praising your artistic accomplishments yestereve, and some gentlemen of the ton have elected to seek you out for commissions for future work.”
Business. That was why Danvers had not dismissed them with a polite excuse. He could not afford to be dismissive of those who might offer patronage, not if he wished to have a reputation that afforded him any time to work on it with any frequency. It would be dismissed as common hobby or as passing fancy otherwise.
He sighed and smoothed out his hair, aware that he was not at all presentable if he was to deal with members of polite society. “Very well. Serve them refreshments in the front parlor while I send Miss Smith on her way. And then you may bring them to my studio after they are refreshed so they may satisfy themselves as to the quality of my work and materials. I shall attend them as soon as I have freshened up and changed into more appropriate attire.”
He was not going to entertain members of the ton in his working clothes, whether they were in the studio or no.
Danvers bowed, and he shut the door and turned back to Hetty.
She had made use of a basin and pitcher of water to freshen up and had managed to set herself more or less aright. He sighed again and surrendered to the inevitable fact that he would have no time to seek further for the answers he sought. “Forgive me, but it appears I have…an unexpected but pressing engagement to attend.”
“So I gathered from your butler’s presence, my lord.” She brushed down her skirt. “Shall I remain?”
“No. It is best if you return to your home for the day. There is no telling how long I shall be required to entertain my guests. In any case, today was not destined to be a particularly productive one, I believe.” He offered her a small, rueful smile. Her cheeks turned rosy again, but she returned the smile. “I shall walk you to the door.”
“Perhaps the garden path might be better, if you do not wish me to meet these guests of yours?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but he could see the sense of the suggestion, serious behind her teasing tones. He did not wish his guests to make assumptions about this model, incorrect or otherwise.
“Indeed. It is fortunate there is an egress available.” He took her hand and made his way around some of the blocks of raw marble in one corner, guiding her to a little-used door that he opened for her. Hetty blinked at it, and he smiled. “It is how I receive my marble, but it otherwise sees very little use. I tend to block it off until I need to receive more materials or tools.” He gestured her through and followed her out into the brightness of the late morning sun.
They made their way around the house, following the garden path, her arm in his as they went. He would have liked to make it a quiet, intimate stroll, perhaps with a picnic luncheon or some other such refreshment, if they were going to take a day’s rest from working, but he was all too aware of his visitors, and the risks of her continued presence.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
He led her around the front lawn and along the far path through the hedges until they reached the main drive, a comfortable distance from the carriages. “I trust you shall remember our standing appointment and return punctually on the morrow?”
“Of course. There is nowhere else I would rather be.” She smiled warmly, then raised one hand curiously, betraying her confidence. “Until the morrow, my lord.” With a final smile and raised eyebrow, she was gone, hastening away. He wondered how she would find her conveyance, given how much earlier her departure was, but forced himself to dismiss the thought from his mind.
He had guests to tend to. He brushed down his shirt and trousers as best he could, then turned and made his way back to his home, amending his plans as he went. Though it would be of little difficulty to sneak through his home, it would most certainly cause further delay. And what need had he to do so in any case? It was his home, and now that Hetty had gone, he need not fear whispers of potentially scandalous nature.
