Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) (21 page)

“I...I have coin that Tenny
—I mean, Captain Tennison, he...he left it with me.”  She reached under her burnoose for the bag.

“Keep it
. You’ve earned it, I would say.”

“No
! You keep it. I’ll take nothing from any of you. I wasn’t bought, nor did I give myself for coin.”  Her voice was a little croak of sound. Diminutive. Small. It was all she possessed.

“I didn’t mean that, child.”

She threw the bag at his feet. She couldn’t see if it landed there or not.

“Take it
. All of it. Or the innkeeper can have it when he decides to clean out his stable. I’ll take that ticket. Somehow, I’ll earn enough to reimburse you. Now leave me. Quickly. The sight of you foreigners makes me ill.”

Her voice died by the time she finished, but she knew he heard
. She hoped he’d leave soon. She wasn’t capable of moving, just yet. She watched him set the ticket on the ground and pick up the bag of coins.

“May God go with you,” he said.

She spat at his feet in reply.

PART T
HREE: REVELATION

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“All right, Averill. Are we ready to begin?”

Averill checked the light against the drapes behind Lady Brighten’s head
. The contrast was extraordinary. She gripped a palette in her thumb and forefinger and mixed paint on it.

“Are you sure you want my head tilted this far?”

“Yes, my lady.”  Averill kept her voice subservient and soft-toned.

She was trying t
o achieve the shading of the drapes behind Lady Brighten. It would be some time before she felt confident enough to start on the woman’s reddish-blond hair. The deep blue of the drapes Averill had chosen was striking against Lady Brighten’s skin tone and coloring. The portrait would be interesting for that reason.

Unfortunately, her heart wasn’t in it.

For several moments, she dabbled with one shade of blue, then another, as she prepared. Lady Brighten had been very surprised when Averill had arrived at her doorstep the previous month – ill-kempt, her feet bandaged in rags, and her face drawn and haggard-looking. But Lady Brighten had taken her in. And that was what mattered.

“That Sen-Bib character came again this morning,” Lady Brighten said, “asking again if I’d seen his helper
. I had to send him away. Honestly, Averill! Disguising yourself as a boy…and for so long! However did you find the courage?”

Because c
ourage is a strange thing
. What the lady found courageous was really just a means of escape.

Averill
had sailed on the boat alone for a full week, dressed and acting like a boy, while doing her best to stay hidden. None knew of her injury. Any hint of weakness would have meant her death. They would have taken everything from her, including her clothes, and thrown her overboard.

It turned out that Harvey had paid
passage on an Egyptian raiding vessel. Averill smiled bitterly to herself now as she added white to the blue paint. She’d barely managed to avoid two ambushes only by knowing so many languages. Either Harvey was stupid, or he’d intended Averill to have such trouble.

“Are you sure this is the right dress
? I have others…more…um. Stylish.”

Averill glanced at the ivory lace
. “It’s very lovely.”  She looked back at the palette. Now that she had the blue of the drapes, she decided to add a dab of vermilion for mystery and depth.

“Speaking of
…you really should let me give you some dresses, Averill. I can’t have future clients seeing you in trousers, even if they are beneath your smock. It’s beyond shocking.”

Averill sighed
. Lady Brighten was right. And Averill would need the commissions in order to repay Harvey. Aside from all that, there was her child to consider.

Peace descended on Averill as she thought about
the baby. Her emotions transferred to the canvas, making the drape folds shimmer. She painted green tinges at the edges, while reddish tones highlighted the folds. It was beautiful. Serene.

“I need to stretch, Averill
. I swear, you’re a difficult taskmaster.”  Lady Brighten yawned.

“
Very well.”  She wiped paint from her brush.

“May I see it?”

“Of course.” 

Averill stepped back
. She smiled as Lady Brighten gasped.

“
Oh, my! That’s lovely! I never would’ve seen such colors in those musty, old drapes. You are truly gifted, Averill. Truly.”

Averill nodded and
stood to one side, waiting for Lady Brighten to leave so she could take out the piece she really wanted to work on.

Lady Brighten
had given her this room in which to work, then they argued over Averill’s stubbornness about payment. She insisted on giving Lady Brighten at least one of her paintings in exchange for room and board. Lady Brighten had finally agreed, and been given the one with fluffy clouds and the mystical horse, Pegasus, in it. Averill disliked parting with it, but it was all she had. But she refused to be indebted to another person as long as she lived.

“I
hear the sunshine is brilliant in Venice, Averill.” 

Lady Brighten called the words over her shoulder as she left the room
. She knew if she stayed, Averill would argue. Lady Brighten insisted on leaving Egypt, especially with Mohammad fighting a war he couldn’t win. It was all the lady spoke on. And she wanted Averill to accompany her. But how could she? There, she’d be surrounded by foreigners with titles and position.

And that might include Cap
tain Tennison
.

She seemed plagued by thoughts of him
. Even Lady Brighten had added subconsciously to it by commented on Tenny. Twice. Each time Averill’s heart had pulsed while her breath caught. The lady hadn’t noticed. She didn’t seem to notice much. Then again, Averill was in a position of glorified servant, and far beneath her.

“
Too bad I don’t have a handsome man to put in this portrait with me. Did you ever chance to see Tenny...I mean, Captain Tennison?” Lady Brighten had asked when they first started. “If I recall correctly, he stopped at Sen-Bib’s one day. He’s a very handsome fellow. A wonderful catch for some lucky girl. Why, if I were young and unwed...”

Averill never saw
a spouse. The fact that Lady Brighten was married was a surprise, but Averill said nothing.

The second time was when Lady Brighten had seen the strange knight that was at the center of Averill’s storm picture
. The likeness to Captain Tennison was hard to miss.

“I like it, Averill
. It reminds me of someone, a man of whom I’m truly fond.”

Lady Brighten
had looked it over with a dreamy expression that matched her words. Averill had quickly turned away. The lady hadn’t noticed that, either.

Now Averill was to have Tenny’s child
. It caught her completely unaware, but restored her at the same time. No one could take a child away. None could deem her unworthy. It made the passing of time bearable, too.

Averill
stroked the place where the child was before turning to her painting. This one seemed to call out to her. She’d started it on the enormous canvas one night when she couldn’t sleep. It was her dream knight. He seemed to loom right out of the canvas. He was taking on Tenny’s likeness more and more. She’d painted him mounted on Sabin. White touched the blaze on the horse’s head, glimpsed through the chain mail. His dark reddish coat shone as if he’d just been brushed.

Averill hummed as she painted, losing track of time so
that when a maid knocked for supper she was squinting at lack of daylight. She threw down the brush in anger at having to stop. And having to face reality again. She didn’t know why she waffled about Lady Brighten’s request. She already knew the answer. She couldn’t stay in Cairo. Her child wouldn’t be safe on the streets, and she’d never leave it at an orphanage.

This
baby wasn’t unwanted or unloved. As she had been.

~ ~ ~

“The dressmaker comes today, Averill,” Lady Brighten said. “And don’t you dare quibble. The voyage will take some weeks…and you can’t travel with only one outfit.”

“I won’t accept clothing if I can’t pay, my lady
. You’ll have to accept another painting.”

Perhaps her voice gave her away
. Averill glanced down as Lady Brighten frowned and her eyes sharpened.

“
How about if we consider your clothing an advance on the painting you’re doing of me? Will that suffice?”  Lady Brighten asked.

That was very generous, but Averill hesitated
. It sounded like charity. “I won’t accept more for this painting than it’s worth, Lady Brighten.” 

She’d lost her train of emotion as she studied Lady Brighten’s hair
. The woman didn’t realize the effort needed to capture images on canvas. Nobody did…except Tenny.

Averill lifted her brush an instant before the tremor hit it
. At that moment Lady Brighten laughed, the sound akin to little bells tinkling. And that was exactly what she needed! Averill’s brush flew to capture the sound. The hair needed some yellow to bring it out. Touches of Parma violet! A hint of blue lapis! She mixed the paints messily, so the color in her mind would transfer before she lost it.

“
You underestimate your talent, Averill.”

Oh, no
. Tenny had said that.

Averill’s
brush skittered through several strands of painted hair. She stepped back. She couldn’t steady her hand for several moments. And she’d lost the emotion. Perhaps she should ask the lady to keep quiet. She wiped off her brush and waited while Lady Brighten walked around to study the likeness.

“This painting is coming along nicely
. I believe it will be worth an entire wardrobe.”

“I’ll accept two or three serviceable gowns, my lady, but no more.” 

“Oh. No. I insist. That, in addition to an evening gown, accompanying lingerie, some shoes… and at least one hat.”

Averill
smirked. They were haggling like women at the marketplace. “I can’t accept so much.”

“Averill, look at me.”

Averill looked up from her solvent pail.

“What I offer is cheap, against something so priceless
. May I be honest?”

Averill
’s eyebrows rose.

“There’s a mystery about you
. And I love those. You see…I come from a long line of Venetians. We’re noted for this particular shade of red hair. It’s something we’re proud of. If you see this hair color, you’ve met a Venetian. Or a descendent. Which brings me to your mystery. You have such blue eyes. I couldn’t miss them. I’m certain I’ve seen that particular shade before. Long before arriving here. It’s bothered me since we met. I want to solve your mystery and take you to Venice at the same time. I so look forward to introducing you to society there. ”

Averill
hand jerked, revealing the horror. She couldn’t be introduced. Not now. Not ever. And what if she chanced across Tenny? And worse. What if she met him with his socially acceptable bride at his side?

“You’re a very talented painter
. So much so, I think you’ll take Europe by storm. I’m honored to sponsor you. I can’t wait! I’ll make certain you have so many commissions you’ll have little time to sit and ponder your self-worth, or lack thereof. Someone has filled your head with nonsense.” 

Lady Brighten
snorted, but it was a well-bred sound.

“You
are also one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. I should’ve guessed it when I first saw you. I’m surprised Tenny didn’t notice. That boy’s got an eye for a comely girl.”

Averill winced and looked down
quickly.

“
So. There you have it. Your future is before you. Please don’t deny it. You’ll be the rage of Venice…and since I’m sponsoring you, no one will dare turn down my invitations. It’ll be mutually beneficial, I promise. Please say you’ll come. Please?”

~ ~ ~

Averill looked down at the blue of the Mediterranean, wishing she didn’t feel so ill. The cabin Lady Brighten booked for her was so spacious and luxurious that Averill had backed out of it when she first saw it. It didn’t feel right. It was as if she was looking above her station again. She had yet to stop Lady Brighten’s plans to introduce her to society, too.

She
swallowed hard and tried to calm her stomach. The slightest bulge betrayed her pregnancy. Averill was grateful European fashions dictated a high waistline and that Lady Brighten insisted Averill be dressed in them. They’d hide her condition, and she needed that. As insistent as Lady Brighten was about a mystery, Averill’s child’s parentage would be difficult to keep from the woman.

The fact that Captain Tennison had fathered a child out of wedlock was going to be scandalous, to say the least
. The thought was too horrid to consider. So she didn’t. If the captain entered her sphere, she’d just have to disappear again.

She should have insisted on at least one pair of serviceable trousers, or at least native
attire. What good would lace-encrusted gowns, almost invisible under-things, and silk stockings do Averill when she was forced to return to her own world?

“
Oh. There you are,” Lady Brighten said. “I’ve been looking for you. You’re not ill, are you?”

Averill pushed back from the rail
. “I’m…not a very good sailor, I’m afraid.”  Her attempted smile went awry; she could tell by Lady Brighten’s expression.

“Come back inside
then. I’ll have my maid, Vernon, prepare something for you. I can’t have my world-class artist falling ill on me.”

Averill followed her patron through the door to the salon
.

“I’ve been wondering, Averill
. And please. Tell me if I pry...”