Kathryn Caskie (6 page)

The earl looked around the ballroom.

Close, so close.
Eliza scattered a few more crumbs before him. “But, make your attentions to me known, and they will be quick on the trail of some other titled bachelor—until you are ready to select a bride, of course.”

Lord Somerton drew a deep breath through his nostrils then exhaled as he glanced around the ballroom once more. He turned to look at her.

“While I am certain I will live to regret this, Miss Merriweather, I will agree to this
arrangement
of yers.”

“Marvelous!”
Eliza said, a bit louder than she meant to.

“I’ll pose as yer dutiful suitor for the season and ye—”

So eager to begin, Eliza cut him off before he could finish. “I will investigate potential brides for you and paint your portrait then, shall I?”

“Aye,” he agreed.

Eliza bounced gleefully on her toes. Both painting and snooping would keep her mind occupied—until this egregious season was at its end.

With his acceptance of this arrangement, her future
and
her thoughts would be her own once more.

Late the next morning, Eliza sat at the table swirling a silver spoon through the steaming tea Mrs. Penny had poured.

She glanced at the case clock in the corner. It was already eleven in the morn. Eliza slumped in her chair. They had returned from the Greymont’s ball only five hours earlier.

She would never survive the season.

Aside from Mrs. Penny and the rest of the Featherton’s meager house staff, Eliza appeared to be the first to rise. This she had done primarily out of habit, for had she thought about it, she certainly would have remained in bed well past the stroke of noon to catch up on her sleep like a good debutante.

But tired as she was, the day already held great promise. Thanks to her “arrangement” with Lord Somerton, it was the first day of this absurd season that she would not have to worry about her aunts’ militaristic matchmaking ploys.

Yes, after seeing an attentive Lord Somerton at her side last eve, her aunts would believe an offer from the earl forthcoming in due time. Why, she could even drop a few veiled hints of her own interest and bolster this belief.

Eliza leaned back in her chair and smiled. No unwanted suitors. No strategies from that deplorable rule book. Why, her inheritance and ticket to Italy were as good as hers.

Now her aunts could move on to finding a young man for her
dear
sister Grace. Eliza chuckled with wicked delight at the prospect.

Mrs. Penny eased up behind Eliza and stood over her with teapot at the ready. “Drink that one down and I’ll pour you another. Your aunts told me to perk you up by whatever means necessary this morn.”

Eliza raised a quizzical brow. “Perk me up? Whatever for? The rest of the house is still asleep.”

“Not the ladies. They’ve been up for two hours or more,” Mrs. Penny said. “They’re working on a project in the library.”

“Really?” Eliza had no doubt what that
project
might be. She was quite sure a certain red leather book was being studied in preparation for yet another clever maneuver.

She should take care to hide that odious book from her aunts—and Grace. It would not do for her sister to learn the true purpose of the rule book and set her aunts’ mistaken strategies to rights.

After finishing her cold meat and fruit, Eliza made her way to the library where she found her aunts Letitia and Viola. As she expected, they were bent over
Rules of Engagement,
lorgnettes in hand.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling.

“Eliza! I am glad you’ve finally risen,” Aunt Viola responded, looking up from the book. “Please sit down. We’ve not much time.”

“Not much time?” Eliza asked, hesitantly lowering herself into a cushioned chair.

“To discuss Rule Four, of course,” Aunt Letitia answered.

Eliza dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. “Rule Four?” she murmured.

“Why, yes,” Aunt Letitia said. “Do not toy with us, Lizzy. We know you are already acquainted with Rule Four.”

“Am I?” Eliza hadn’t the faintest idea what they were talking about.

“You shifty tod,” Aunt Letitia said with a knowing grin on her lips. “You must have stolen a glance at the next chapter.”

Eliza rose from her chair. “I am afraid I do not—”

Raising her palm, Aunt Letitia silenced her. She held her lorgnette to her eyes and read the dark heading aloud.
“Rule Four. Employ diversion to distract opposing forces from the true objective.”

“D-diversion?” Eliza sank nervously back into the chair.

Aunt Viola shuffled over and placed her hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “Your offer last night to paint Lord Somerton’s portrait was simply inspired.”

“What?” Eliza tried to leap up, but her aunt’s firm hand held her in place. “You know of m-my offer?”

Aunt Letitia chuckled. “Why, you do not think Lord Somerton would call on you without seeking our permission, do you?”

Eliza stared at Aunt Letitia. He’d
already
sought out permission? Why, they’d only struck their deal last night.

“I must say, Eliza, how utterly brilliant of you to come up with such a plan,” Aunt Viola said, undisguised glee plain in her eyes.

“Plan?” Eliza asked. Surely he would not have told them about their
arrangement.

“Why, to paint his portrait of course.” Aunt Letitia lifted the strategy book and hugged it to her ample bosom. “You really are an innovative miss. Now Lord Somerton will
have
to call on you frequently—for his sittings.”

With her bony finger, Aunt Viola poked each word into Eliza’s arm. “What better way to prevent his lordship from calling on other young ladies.”

Eliza rubbed the throbbing divot in her arm, and stared up at Aunt Viola. Why, she had not really considered that their little arrangement would force Lord Somerton to spend a goodly amount of time with her
outside
the season’s events; would require him to call on her even between sittings for his portrait. Her heartbeat quickened.

Not that this would be all bad. For his dutiful company would preclude her from being hauled around family-tofamily, house-to-house like a dusty cart of coal.

In fact, the more she considered it, the more she liked the idea of spending time with Lord Somerton. He was witty and intelligent. He challenged her and made her laugh, which was more than she could say for any of the other dreary bachelors she’d met in London.

And, though she’d never admit it to anyone, were she looking for a husband, which she absolutely
was not,
the ruggedly handsome earl might be exactly the sort of man she’d set her cap for.

Aunt Letitia squinted at the clock across the passageway. “Heavens! I’ve completely lost notice of the time. Lord Somerton will be here soon.”

The downy hair on the back of Eliza’s neck prickled. “Lord Somerton is coming here?
Today?”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Viola said.

At the clop of hooves in the street, her aunt glanced out the window. She then hurried back and fretfully fingered Eliza’s heavy, loose locks. “I fear you will not have time to pin your hair.”

Eliza rose and started for the door. “I shall have Jenny help me. She is quite nimble of finger.”

“Even she is not fast enough,” Aunt Viola said. “Lord Somerton has just arrived.”

Eliza’s world seemed to momentarily slow around her. The repetitive thud of the doorknocker blasted like cannon fire through the cavernous entryway.

“What? Here—now?” Eliza paced the carpet, drumming her fingertips on her lips. “Please tell Edgar I will receive Lord Somerton in the courtyard.”

Eliza flattened a bird’s-foot crease in her morning gown with her palms and finger-combed a few stray curls into place, then turned to leave the library. As she reached the open door, she whirled around.

“I shall require my drawing tablet, pencils … No, wait.
Charcoal.
Oh, bother! I cannot seem to think.” Eliza squeezed her fists tight, struggling to compose herself. “Please ask Edgar to bring
all
my sketching supplies. Thank you.”

Was that a scowl he detected?

Magnus looked at the young woman standing in the center of the rose-framed courtyard, her eyes narrowed, fists clenched.

“A thousand pardons, is this not Seventeen Hanover Square?” he asked. “I had hoped to call upon Miss Merriweather, the
delightful
young woman with whom I had the pleasure of dancing last eve.”

“Oh, stop it, Somerton,” Eliza huffed. “You know all too well why I am cross.”

“On my honor, I do not.”

“I do
not
like surprises.” She walked over to a rose bush and ripped several blood red petals from the early bloom. She crushed them in her hands and let them flutter to the brick paving. “When my aunts informed me, only moments ago mind you, that Lord Somerton was coming to sit for his portrait, I was quite taken aback.”

“Why is that? Ye agreed to paint my portrait.”

“I did, yes. But when I realized that my aunts knew about the portrait I promised, I feared what else they might know.” She strode across the courtyard and then spun around to face him. “Did you tell them anything more?”

“Are ye referring to our arrangement?”

She thrust her hands into the air. “Of course, our
arrangement.”

Magnus caught a flicker of movement in the windows above and moved toward Eliza. Cupping her hand in his, he bowed over her slender fingers and pressed a quick kiss atop them. He felt her tremble beneath his mouth. “Yer aunts are watching us from an upper window,” he whispered.

“Oh, I see. Which window?” Eliza asked quietly. She plastered on a demure smile and fluttered her lashes.

“Very nice touch,” he remarked, then glanced upward at the two lavender-frocked old ladies who unabashedly peered down at them. “They’re standing at the second floor window, behind ye.”

Eliza laughed as though she were having a grand time. Taking his arm, she led Magnus to a small bench under the shade and privacy of an oak situated in the center of the courtyard.

“I do not believe we can be observed here,” she told him, flattening her palms to her lap. “Now, will you tell me how much they know?”

“Do ye think me daft, Eliza? Our bargain would be meaningless if yer aunts knew of it.”

It was then he noticed that she was staring at him, blinking like an automaton.

Magnus waved his hand before her face. “Are ye well?”

She swatted his hand away. “Of course. I was merely taken aback by your familiar use of my given name.”

“My, ye are an odd sort, aren’t ye? Ye think nothing of studying a man’s form as though it were a piece of fruit, yet ye’re stunned by my innocent use of yer name.”

Eliza swallowed deeply. “Well, I have not yet given you permission to address me in such a familiar manner.”

Magnus grinned. “I beg yer forgiveness, Miss Merri-weather. Might I use yer given name?”

She glanced warily at him. “I suppose it would be all right. But only in private, mind you. I have my family’s reputation to think of.”

Magnus raised his brow. “Of course ye do.” He glanced up through the verdant leaves to the window where Eliza’s aunts stood and chuckled at what he saw. “I daresay, yer aunts are most resourceful.”

Eliza looked quizzically up at him.

Magnus gestured through the new leaves to the upper window. Two sets of mother-of-pearl opera glasses were trained on them.

Eliza groaned and rested her forehead in her hand. “I do apologize.” She slowly raised her head.

Magnus laughed and waved at Aunt Letitia and Viola. Instead of fluttering to an interior room, as one might expect those caught in the act of spying to do, the two old ladies happily waved back at him.

“No need to apologize,” he told her. “They are most… entertaining.”

The sole door to the courtyard opened and the manservant entered with a large tablet of paper and a wooden case. When he departed, Eliza silently tacked paper to a board from the case, then laid out an array of pencils and charcoals on the small table beside her. She sat down on the chair and looked up at Magnus.

“You may sit over there.” She gestured to the iron garden chair opposite the small table beside her. “Come now. Don’t dawdle.”

“I had no idea ye would wish to begin so soon.”

Eliza stilled and looked him in the eye. “Didn’t you? I thought that was why you were here,” she said. “Turn your head to the right just a bit. That’s it. Now lift your chin slightly.”

Bristling at her order, Magnus shifted uncomfortably.

Eliza set her hands on the gentle slope of her hips. “What is this now? Unaccustomed to taking direction from a woman?”

"Nay. I am unaccustomed to taking orders from most anyone.”

“Oh, I see,
General”
she teased.

“That would be Lieutenant Colonel,” he corrected.

Eliza sucked in the seam of her lips to conceal a grin. “No matter. Although I am not a commissioned officer, as long as you sit in that chair,
I
am in charge.” With a passive face, she snatched up a wedge of charcoal and carefully laid it to the paper.

Magnus chuckled at her game. She never failed to amuse.

With her left hand, Eliza crossed two long brushes and held them at arm’s length in front of him. She squinted one eye, then held the makeshift cross before her page and began to draw with quick sweeping strokes.

“Did ye just wink at me?” Magnus asked.

“No.” Eliza did not seem at all appreciative of his sad attempt at levity. She shot him an overwrought glare, though the smallest hint of a smile curved her lips.

“Might I ask what ye’re doing?”

She positioned the brushes before him once more. “I am blocking your features. I need to sketch a few studies of you before I paint. Do not speak.”

“How long will this take?”

Eliza exhaled and lowered the brushes. “Blocking? Or painting your portrait?”

“The portrait.”

“Well, Lord Somerton, that all depends on you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, and how many times you interrupt my work.”

The corners of Magnus’s lips lifted. He didn’t give a damn about the portrait. She could be drawing stick figures for all he cared. Nay, he simply enjoyed Eliza’s refreshing company and her ability to make him forget his money troubles … if even for a short while.