The Fashionable Spy (7 page)

Elizabeth turned to watch her sister, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Ugh, what a muck that is.”

Victoria tested the surface of the plaster, decided it was quite ready, then carefully separated it into two sections. “I believe I can take this to the foundry, the caster ought to be quite pleased with it.”

“I do not see how you can go down to that awful place, Victoria. It gives me the quakes.” Elizabeth shuddered dramatically as she paused by the door.

“Then do not go,” Victoria replied with practicality. “I shall take Sable with me, and Sam Coachman, and there is usually a footman as well. I am well-chaperoned, my dear little sister.”

Victoria took the mold over to the sink, washed it out, then returned to a small table where she put the sections together. A new batch of plaster was mixed, then poured inside the mold she had first lightly greased. She set the sculpture on the stand, and glanced at the clock again. Elizabeth had disappeared from the room, and Victoria hadn’t noticed her absence. One tended to concentrate while at work.

“Excuse me. Miss Victoria, there’s a gentleman to see you and he won’t be put off. Sir Edward, he said to tell you it was.” The maid, quite accustomed to the clutter of the workroom, scarcely glanced at the various materials scattered about. Most likely she was only thankful that she was never assigned to clean it up. One of the footmen had that task, and a tedious one it must be, too. They were fussy about the room, and heaven help anyone who disturbed a thing.

“Oh, botheration,” Victoria whispered. Turning to the maid, she quietly replied, “Very well, I shall be along directly. Where is he?”

“Evenson put him in the study.”

Nodding thoughtfully at the change of rooms, Victoria removed the enormous apron, hanging it on its peg. She smoothed her hair and dress with freshly washed hands, then rubbed some cream on them as she briskly walked down the hall to the front of the house. She paused at the study door.

“Sir Edward, this is indeed a surprise. I was not aware that we had reason to meet again.” She remained where she stood for a moment, waiting for Sable to join her before entering the room. The man had been expecting her, no doubt from the sound of her footsteps in the hall. She was disconcerted when he crossed the room to her side. She had wanted to study him again, but found his closeness disturbing,

“I wished to discuss your family carriage with you. I decided that it is only right that I replace your badly damaged one. Your coachman informed me that he feels it quite definitely is no longer safe. That will never do.”

“How kind of you,” Victoria murmured, giving him high marks for fairness and wanting to do the right thing. She had forgotten that sensual quality in his voice, making the most mundane words appear fraught with secret meaning.

Sir Edward stepped still closer, then reached up to flick her nose.

“I beg your pardon,” Victoria said in a faintly affronted tone.

“Plaster, I believe. Have I disturbed you while at work?” He tilted his head as though to study her better. That lazy smile of his was nearly her undoing.

She nodded, reluctant to discuss what she did at the moment. The more intriguing possibility of a new chaise appealed to her. Not that they couldn’t afford one. But the thought had occurred to her that if he were to pursue the gift of a chaise, she might very well see more of him. Would he not wish to take her for a drive to test it out? And then he possibly could wish to consult with her regarding the design and color as well. She smiled at him, that dazzling smile that had stopped lesser men in their tracks.

“Back to the matter of the chaise,” she said briskly. “If Sam has confided in you, I may as well admit I have great reservations about taking that coach on a journey again. But I should like to have a say in the style and color,’’ she cautioned with what she felt to be great craftiness.

He leaned against the desk, studying her through suddenly narrowed eyes. “You plan another trip so soon?”

“I frequently find it necessary to travel, as does Julia. In her painting, she prefers to have the sitter before her, rather than work from sketches. I feel the same. Sometimes this means we have to go to a distant place. It is usually worth it, however, as we achieve a better likeness.” She avoided meeting his gaze, for she found it far too penetrating for comfort.

“Why do we not plan a call on the carriage builder soon, if that is the case. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Victoria glanced down at her hands, unwilling he should see what might be in her eyes, for she could not always conceal her thoughts. It would hardly do to let the dratted man know that she found him fascinating, and that she really wished to see more of him—only so she might make a bust of him, of course. Raising her lashes, she returned his steady gaze. “That would be lovely. I must take my head to the foundry in the morning, but I should be free all afternoon.”

“Take your head?” He gave her a quizzical, highly amused look that drew a chuckle from Victoria.

“I just finished making the plaster cast for the head I sculptured while I was away.” Then she surprised herself by offering, “Would you like to see it?”

He stood away from the desk. “Indeed. I have seen samples of your work, and find the idea of viewing a work in progress most captivating.”

“Come with me, then,” she responded, wondering what had possessed her to invite this relative stranger into her most private place, where she worked at what she loved to do.

* * * *

Sir Edward paused on the threshold of the room, his eyes swiftly absorbing the contents.

Victoria assessed it as well, trying to see it as he must. Whitewashed walls reflected bright morning light that streamed in through uncurtained windows, sharply revealing the tables and implements used by the women in their art. His turned to the large lump of plaster sitting on a wooden stand.
“This
is your head?”

“You can be forgiven that tone of voice. It has a way to go as yet.’’ She slipped on the apron, then quickly tied the tapes, wishing to avoid his help.

He followed her to the stand, watching her every move. “What next?”

She deftly knocked off the mold, leaving the perfect cast sitting on the stand for him to admire. She tossed the waste mold into a bin, then picked up the tool she used to smooth off any roughness, gently stroking it across a spot on the head that needed finishing.

“Admirable,” Edward breathed. “It is old Chatham to a tee, unless the man has a twin.”

“You know the admiral?”

“I see Chatham from time to time, usually at the war office. Nice old chap.”

Victoria wondered at the speculative look she caught in Sir Edward’s eyes.

“He is waiting patiently for this,” she said absently, returning her attention to the sculpture. “Fortunately, people seem to understand that the sculpturing process is not one to be done quickly. This is what I shall take with me in the morning.” She removed the apron, neatly hanging it up again, then waited for him to join her on a walk to the front door. She wanted to pin down the time for tomorrow, not to mention discover the carriage builder they would patronize, before Sir Edward left.

He seemed in no rush to depart, strolling about the room, then over to the shelves Elizabeth had perused earlier. “Ah, I believe I see a few more friends. How diverting to find them all on the shelf.”

He turned to share a quick grin with her, and Victoria felt her heart perform the oddest flip-flop. Struggling to maintain a cool voice, she replied, “I see what you mean. I confess I had never thought of it that way, for I believe they are all active people, are they not?”

“Which makes this all the more amusing. You are very good, Miss Dancy. Every one of these is quite like the man it represents. Amazing.” At last he turned to join her on the walk to the front of the house.

Evenson was there before them, standing by the door in expectation of assisting the gentleman to his carriage.

“Shall we say two of the clock, then?”

Victoria pursed her mouth, then nodded. “I ought to be home by then, surely. And where do we go?”

He mentioned the name of one of the finest carriage builders in all of London, and Victoria looked up at him with increased respect. “Indeed?” she murmured. “You intend to do very well by us. That is a handsome offer, Sir Edward.” She held out her hand to him, after making sure that no lingering trace of plaster remained. It had been quite enough that he’d removed a spot from her nose.

He accepted her slim hand, surprisingly strong for a woman, he supposed, cradling it in his own clasp a moment before releasing it. His inspection brought a warmth to her cheeks that seemed to catch his interest, to her dismay.

Then Sable intruded, butting his nose against Edward’s good leg. “Ah, yes, your dog.” Steadying himself with the cane, he bent over to scratch the dog behind the ears, an affectionate touch, one that pleased Victoria. So many men took one look at her dog and edged away.

He straightened with what seemed obvious reluctance. “Until tomorrow, Miss Dancy.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed. She remained in the entry as Evenson ushered the gentleman out to the street where his carriage awaited. It was a graceful phaeton, and his groom skillfully assisted his master up and onto the seat with a minimum of fuss.

He must hate being discommoded like that, she strongly suspected. Then, aware that she was behaving in a highly unusual manner by staring after a departing guest, she fled up the stairs. Tomorrow could not come soon enough, as far as Victoria was concerned. She hummed a gay little tune as she took the last steps to the second floor, where her bedroom was located. Although normally not one to fuss over her clothes, she wished to inspect her wardrobe. All she wanted to do was present a highly proper picture, she assured herself.

Later, at tea, she questioned Julia about her first visit to the gentleman whose eye she was to paint.

“Evenson saw me off like I was a girl of ten. I fear we shall never appear adults in his eyes,” she said fondly, then continued. “Although the house I went to is rather intimidating, with an elegant entrance, I presented myself with all the hauteur I could summon, much like Aunt Montmorcy does. You know how she can quell with a look. I had our footman carry in my paints like they were the crown jewels, so as to impress his butler.” She exchanged an amused look with her sister.

“The gentleman? You never did tell me who he is,” Victoria prompted.

“I shall tell you shortly. Allow me to describe his home for a moment. The library is impressive, with leather-found volumes and an enormous desk with one of those comfortable padded chairs you are always wishing to have. There is a window overlooking a very pretty garden to the rear of the house. My client appeared while I was inspecting the room, and I must say I felt like a silly girl.” She studied the handkerchief clutched tightly in her hands with a deceptively casual air.

“This client ... he is a plain man? Old, no doubt, and crippled with gout?” Victoria observed, repressing a grin.

“Oh, no,” Julia replied earnestly. “He is excessively handsome and not the least old. I shall find painting his eye not an onerous task at all.” Then she blushed like a young miss, adding, “I found his manners most polite, and I think his desire to have a miniature for his mother most commendable.”

“I still do not know his name,” Victoria reminded her.

“I thought I told you before,” Julia murmured. “He is the Viscount Temple. And I shall paint more than his eye, you know. A few of his lovely curls, his brow— which really is quite noble—and a portion of his cheek and nose as well. Heaven knows how long it will take me,” she concluded with an absent air. Which was most unlike Julia, who usually dispatched her paintings with all speed.

Victoria sipped her tea, wondering about the man who had dazzled her usually calm sister, a widow normally immune to men. She hoped Julia would not tumble into a devastating love, one destined to be unfulfilled.

Elizabeth paused on the threshold, her cheeks ablaze with her emotions. “May I join you? I must confide in someone or I shall burst. Oh, that odious man,” she concluded with asperity as she plumped herself on the sofa and proceeded to pour a cup of tea for herself. Then she munched a crisp lemon biscuit while her sisters waited for her to continue.

“What an intriguing entrance,” Victoria said, alarm in her voice. One never knew what Elizabeth might plunge into, for she was given to impetuous starts.

“Well,” Elizabeth said after she had drained her first cup of tea, “I went to the war office to turn in that pile of French banknotes and accept my next assignment, and whom should I literally bump into at the bottom of the steps outside the building but that frightful man!”

“Frightful man?” Julia said in her gentle way, alarm also clear in her voice.

“ ‘Miss Dancy,’ “ Elizabeth said in a deep voice, “he murmured in that way he has, and then said how charming it was to see me again after such a long time. He accused me of avoiding him! Can you believe his nerve, as though I would bother? He insists he is harmless. Bah! And after the Penwick ball, too.” Elizabeth picked up another lemon biscuit and bit into it with ferocious energy, as if to express her annoyance with the man in question.

Curious, Victoria tried to suppress the urge to insist that Elizabeth get to the heart of the matter, and prompted, “What did he—whoever he is—do, dear?”

“Well, to begin with, he stole a kiss—no, two—at the Fenwick ball.” Catching a glimpse of her elder sister’s look of dismay, she added, “I did not wish to upset you, for I was certain he would never look my way again. I have heard he is quite the rake, and we all know that rakes never bother with green girls. And I am certainly green,” she sighed with apparent disgust.

“And?” Victoria urged.

“I told that impossible man that I do not welcome stolen kisses and
he
had the nerve to say that he was forced to steal a kiss for he perceived I’d not give one willingly. Now, I ask you, are those the words of a gentleman? And he said it was utterly delicious!” she concluded in what appeared to be deep affront.

“What did you say then to this unnamed man?” Victoria queried, satisfied that her sister was embroidering just a trifle upon what seemed to be a reasonably innocent bit of flirting.