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“They have.”
“Such precipitous departure. Is another place setting required for the young lady’s father, perhaps?” Beneath the butler’s suave tones ran the same amused tones that colored Jackson’s, and Daniel surrendered to them, sinking fully into his seat with a laugh.
‘There’s no need of that, Danvers. I doubt Miss Britmoore and her brother, if such he is, had the wit to think of such a ruse, given that they had not even taken the time to be sure they knew what I looked like. It is unlikely we’ll see any more of them.”
“Very good sir.” Danvers withdrew.
Jackson sighed dramatically. “Well, then. I suppose it’s a case of my good cigars I owe you.” He rose. “And on that note, I fear it is time and past time for us to be returning home. The nights are still chill enough that I should not wish to be on the road too long after dark.”
“No. You are right at that.” With regret, he rang for the servants to clear away the dishes, while he escorted them to the door. Danvers and the footmen brought their traveling cloaks and hats, while the stable hands brought the small two-person trap around. “I wish you a safe journey home, my friend. And please do come to visit me again sometime in the near future.”
“I shall, now that the weather is becoming more appropriate for travel.” Jackson handed his wife into her seat, then clasped Daniel’s hand briefly before swinging up himself. “I shall bring the promised cigars on my next visit. In the meantime,” he drawled, his eye glittering with humor, “I do hope you have no more damsels in distress and their overbearing siblings knocking on your door.”
“You and I both, though I fear it shall not cease for some time yet.” Daniel smiled ruefully as he stepped back to give Jackson’s conveyance some room. “Go well.”
“And keep safe.” Jackson touched his cap, then flicked the reins to set the horses in motion.
Daniel watched as the vehicle clattered out of sight, then turned and made his way inside. “I believe I shall retire to my workroom for the remainder of the day. Please see to it that I am not disturbed.” Danvers nodded and glided away, leaving him to continue on to what had once been a small sunroom, now converted into his private workroom.
Heavy cloths of canvas covered the floor, and a long oaken table held an assortment of tools. In one corner, an easel held a well-worn sketchbook. And in the center of the room…
In the center of the room stood his latest labor, a glistening block of pale veined marble near his own height and some inches wider. Rough-hewn edges, broken free with the chisel that lay to one side, showed where the top of the block had given way to a more oval shape.
He circled the stone carefully, absently rolling up his sleeves and loosening his cravat, before donning a heavy canvas smock to keep the marble dust off his clothing. His hair was yet short enough that it required no management, though if he did not have it cut soon, he would be in need of a tie to keep it from his face.
Twice he orbited the heavy block before reaching out to grasp the chisel. Then he set it back down with a sigh, rubbing absently at his brow.
It’s not much use, to call myself an artist when I cannot even see the shapes I want within the stone. I suppose it is all the distractions of late.He flicked his gaze over the marble again.God’s breath, but I should not mind such distractions knocking upon my door, if only they brought inspiration with them!
CHAPTERTWO
Henrietta twirled, drinking her reflection from the mirror, frowning thoughtfully.
It had taken a full week and a great deal of thought, but she was rather proud of the plan she had concocted to engage with the elusive ‘Dark Prince’. It was, she felt, a ruse absolutely certain to capture his attention. But it needed the proper touches, and the proper costume, if she were to make it work.
The proper costume, and not a little audacity, she could freely admit to herself. The plan was not without some considerable risk and would take no small amount of acting skill if she was to make it work.
She twirled again, getting accustomed to the feel of the gown. It was much more plain and had fewer layers than the gowns to which she was accustomed. Hardly a surprise, as she had borrowed it from one of her lady’s maids. The lightness of it felt odd, somewhat scandalous, but it was not uncomfortable beyond her ability to bear.
She examined her hair, pulled into a simple but fetching style that she could arrange herself, if necessary, and the powder she’d applied, a subtle coat to enhance her natural appearance, rather than to alter it.
All in all, it was a far cry from the public appearance of Lady Henrietta Stanton, high society matchmaker. In a word, it was perfect.
She took a bag, in which she’d packed some necessities, for the Marquess resided in his country seat rather than in town, and slipped noiselessly from her rooms, taking care to keep quiet as she maneuvered through the darkened halls of her home. Much of the household was abed, a rarity so early in the evening during the Season, and she’d no wish to raise the alarm.
Good fortune was with her, and she encountered no one as she glided silently down the servant’s stairs and out into the back courtyard, where her favorite coachman stood waiting. He bowed as she approached. “Lady Henrietta.”
“None of that now.” She shook her head. “You may call me Hetty, instead. Hetty Smith. It’s best I get used to a proper name for this guise.”
“As you say,miss.” The coachman, John Thistle, took her bag and loaded it, then handed her up into the carriage. “Though if you don’t mind my asking—are you sure you wish to do this?” Even in the dim glow of the gas lamps and the travel lantern she could see concern in his eyes. “It’s a risky venture you’re taking, and if you’re caught...your reputation…”
“Pox on my reputation! If I cannot undertake this challenge, I shall have no reputation worth mentioning in any case. And I am as sure that this course is correct as I was when I told you to take Sarah for a stroll in the garden last year. And I note you are quite happily married now”
A flush suffused his face. “Mayhap that is true, and I am grateful to you for the advice, my— Miss Smith. But my concern now is your status. ‘Tis one thing to play matchmaker and make excuses for two servants in your own home. ‘Tis quite another to…” He gestured to her outfit. “I can’t say I like you taking such risks.”
“No greater risk than I ran while assisting you.” She put a hand out to stop his protest. “Safe in my own house I might have been, but you cannot think father would have been at all pleased, had he discovered I was permitting the two of you use of my chambers for your trysts.”
John winced, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I suppose that is true.” He sighed. “As you will, miss, but I hope you don’t mind, I’ll be keeping my eye on you all the same.”
