Candice Hern (14 page)

“I don’t know. And I don’t completely under
stand the stakes, so I can’t yet define failure. I have begun to believe, though, that she might be willing to take me as a lover.”

Ian eyed him skeptically. “Is that what you want? Is that
all
you want from her?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I wish I had a guinea for every ‘I don’t know’ you’ve uttered tonight. If you didn’t care about her, there would be no question. All this uncertainty leads me to believe that you do care. I think you simply haven’t yet admitted it to yourself.”

“And I think you should mind your own business.”

Ian grinned. “Ha! Now I know it’s serious. But I’ll not badger you about it. I’ll leave you in peace to sort it out.”

But Tony didn’t really want to sort anything out. He liked to keep things simple. He wanted her. Badly. That was simple enough. But only in his bed? Or did he want more? Did he want her in his life? Did he want her heart and soul as well as her body? And what about her? What did she want? What if he helped to free her from all those invisible chains that bound her, and she flew right out of his life on her new wings?

Lord, so many questions and so few answers. Damn. There was nothing simple about it at all.

“H
ave you taken Anthony to bed yet?”

Edwina looked up from the drawings spread out on the dining-room table. “I beg your pardon?”

“I shouldn’t pry, of course.” Flora gave a self-deprecating smile. “But that never stopped me. I have a great fondness for him, you know. And it’s clear as a midsummer’s day you’re attracted to each other. I just wondered if that attraction had led to the bedroom yet.”

It was no use objecting to such an improper subject of conversation. She had learned that Flora was very frank in discussions of a personal nature. No subject was too intimate or too private. Almost paradoxically, though, she was also the soul of dis
cretion. Edwina had often teased her about publishing her memoirs. Flora had claimed that though she had nothing to be ashamed of in her own life, she would never stoop to discuss the private lives of the men she’d known. That would be disrespectful and dishonorable. Flora had a bone-deep sense of honor. It was one of the things Edwina liked most about her. She didn’t probe for information so she could gossip elsewhere. She simply asked outright what was on her mind, proper or not.

“I am not sleeping with Anthony,” Edwina said. “It would be foolish to do so. He is my employer. For the moment. He holds my future in his hands, you may recall.”

“Bah! A silly little wager that you are bound to win. You should not let that get in the way of life’s pleasures.”

Edwina was glad Flora and others were so confident of her victory in the wager with Anthony. She would never admit it, but she did not always share that same confidence. Subscription numbers were slowly increasing, but not at the rate needed to reach her goal by November. Much as it pained her to consider it, she just might be working for Anthony Morehouse for a good, long time.

“It would not be wise to become intimate with him, Flora.”

“Well, then, perhaps
after
you’ve won.”

Edwina laughed. “Recollect, if you will, that I am a respectable spinster. I am not like you, Flora. I
do not hop into bed with every attractive man who comes along. No offense meant, of course.”

“None taken. But you have hopped once or twice, have you not?”

“Flora!”

“You must have done. I mean, look at you. You’re quite the most beautiful creature I think I’ve ever seen. You must have to beat men away with a stick. But surely there have been one or two who got in the door. I realize you’re a spinster, though God knows why. But that doesn’t mean you’re a virgin. Good Lord, you’re blushing. Don’t tell me you
are
a virgin?”

“It is not right to speak of such things.”

“And here I thought you were an enlightened woman. Well, you don’t have to say anything. I have been around many more years than you, my girl, and I have learned a thing or two along the way.” She picked up one of the drawings and studied it closely.

“Spinsters, for example,” she continued, and picked up a second drawing to compare to the first. “There are the ones who titter and twitch around a gentleman because they have no experience of men and are intimidated by them. Then there are those who hate men, for whatever reason. Perhaps because they’ve been passed over by them. These sorts scowl and hiss and generally scare the life out of any man who comes near them.”

She put both drawings down and regarded Ed
wina with frank appraisal. “Then there are the spinsters by choice, who have had a taste of life, but decide not to commit theirs into the keeping of one man. You are of this last type, I believe.”

Edwina shrugged. “I am definitely unmarried by choice.”

“I thought as much. And the way you act around men, especially Anthony, tells me that you are neither hateful of them nor intimidated by them. You have experienced men, or at least a man, and so you are comfortable with them, comfortable with your reaction to them, even if that reaction is sexual.”

Edwina thought of her reaction to Anthony’s kiss. She was not at all comfortable with it. She had expected that after so many years the sensations would have dimmed. Instead, she had begun to believe that physical desire intensified with age. It seemed to have done so with her.

“You ought to be a writer, Flora. You have a grand imagination.”

“Oh, you disappoint me, my dear. You will not admit to anything, will you? You will maintain your appearance of respectable spinsterhood. I had rather hoped to hear a story of grand passion. Or two.”

“There is nothing to tell.” Nothing she wished to tell.

“Well then, perhaps there will be, soon enough.” Flora smiled suggestively.

“I am not interested in taking Anthony for a lover.”

Flora’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why ever not? Good God, do not tell me you are holding out for marriage? At your age, my dear?”

Edwina chuckled. She was approaching thirty and yet you’d think she was near the end of her life, the way everyone seemed so concerned about her age. “I am not looking for marriage, either.”

“Then you are a fool, my girl, if you will not have him for either a lover or a husband. It would be criminal to let such a lovely man get away, especially when he is so obviously attracted to you. You could do much worse than to take Anthony Morehouse for your lover. He knows how to treat a woman.”

“Is he…are you…?” Edwina felt a blush heat her cheeks and couldn’t bring herself to finish the question she was dying to ask. She looked away and gave her attention to the drawings.

“Is he my lover?” Flora asked for her. She shook her head. “No. He was, several years ago. It turned out we made better friends than lovers. Anthony needs a woman who can commit to him and him alone. I was not able to do that.”

Edwina puzzled over this information. It seemed a paradox of sorts that a man who lived through the uncertainties of gambling would seek the certainty of a committed relationship. Or maybe he needed it to keep him anchored in some way. That
did not also mean, though, that he himself promised fidelity in return.

What did it matter? All she wanted from Anthony was the
Cabinet.
She was not seeking a commitment, or anything else personal from him. A single kiss, no matter how explosive, did not constitute a promise.

“I was just another one of Anthony’s rebellions,” Flora said. “He made certain our liaison was very public so that his father would be sure to hear of it. He had earned Sir Frederick’s ire so often without trying that he had begun to do so deliberately, I think. Poor Anthony. He could never please that man.”

“Well, he
is
a gambler. That would displease any parent, I should think.”

“Except that it was his father who pushed him into it.”

Edwina’s brows shot up in astonishment. “Anthony’s father encouraged him to gamble?”

“No, of course not. But Sir Frederick is a very formidable man with very traditional values. Hates frivolity or recklessness. And the French. And Fox, of course. Anthony took a few missteps when he was young and the man never forgave him. He thoroughly crushed the boy’s dreams of doing anything useful. Anthony is simply living up to, or perhaps down to, his father’s expectations. And I was a part of all that.”

Flora made it sound as though cocky, confident
Anthony thought himself a failure. That he sought ways to fail in order to prove his father was right about him. It was hard to believe. Edwina had assumed he was simply another one of those self-absorbed pleasure seekers who filled London’s ballrooms and clubs and gaming hells. She would like to have learned more, but she already felt intrusive.

“I beg your pardon, Flora. Your relationship with Anthony is none of my business. But these drawings are. Now let us decide on which ones to use for the next issue.”

“You’ll want a morning dress and an evening dress, of course. The first to give the readers something they might actually aspire to wear. The second to give them something to dream about.”

“They’re all so lovely.” Edwina sorted through the half-dozen drawings done by Raisbeck from live models. “Not so stiff and formal as our previous prints.”

“And the faces. Just look at those faces. You can tell Lionel makes a living painting portraits. You should allow him to paint you, my dear.”

“I have no need for a portrait. Though I do love his work. This one in particular.” She held up a drawing of a woman in a promenade dress. “You can practically hear the swishing of her skirts as she moves.”

“Perhaps, then, you should model for one of the fashion prints.”

Edwina chuckled. “I would need someone to dress me properly, then. As you see, I have little sense for fashion and no style whatsoever.”

“With your looks, my dear, who needs style? But if you ever want advice, I’d be happy to oblige. If you were going out for an evening with Anthony, for example.”

“I cannot imagine such a circumstance. He has taken me driving a few times, that is all. Now, which one of the evening dresses would make the best fashion plate?”

“Has he kissed you?”

“What?”

“You said you have not been to bed with him. I’d be sorely disappointed in the boy if he has not yet kissed you.”

“If you must know, he kissed me the first time we met. I mean the first time since we were children.”

“Good for him. Always was quick-witted. That’s why he’s such a successful gambler. Never misses an advantage. So, has he kissed you again?”

“Really, Flora!”

“Lord, you are skittish. As if talking about such matters would be the least bit shocking to me. Recollect who I am, my dear.”

“It’s just…very personal. I’m not comfortable speaking of such private matters.”

“Silly notion, between women. Between friends.”

“All right. Yes.” She blurted it out before she could stop herself. “He kissed me again.”

“And?”

And her mind had been in an almost perpetual state of confusion ever since. Thoughts of Anthony and his kiss had interfered with her work altogether too often. Her mind wandered, her skin tingled and flushed at the memory, her stomach tied itself into knots of anxiety. She felt rather foolish, as though she were sixteen and had just been kissed for the first time.

She had so far been helpless to keep such silliness under control, and that made her nervous. It was not like her to be so undisciplined. For almost eight years she had imposed a strict restraint on her emotions, her passions, her life. She would never again be the victim of impassioned chaos.

And yet, there was something so seductive about it, about the way she’d felt after Anthony’s kiss. He had been the first man in all that time to bring about those quivery, legs-turning-to-jelly feelings again. Probably because he’d been the first man bold enough to just walk up and kiss her, as he did that first time, sneaking through a tiny chink in the armor before she even knew it was there. He’d almost stripped the armor away entirely the second time, and she had let him. Fool! It would be much too easy to succumb to those feelings again. And much too dangerous.

Which is why she’d avoided being alone with him again, always keeping Prudence or Nicholas in the room with them. He had invited her out driving
several more times, and she had gone once, having run out of excuses. But she made sure he kept to the public areas and never veered off into any remote corner of the park. He was always the perfect gentleman in public, though he whispered teasing comments about getting her alone and inviting further demonstrations.

“And?” Flora asked again, dragging Edwina’s thoughts back to the present. “Did you enjoy his kiss?”

Edwina sighed. “Yes, I did. But enough of that. We have much to do. Choose one of the evening-dress drawings, Flora, and let’s get on with it.”

“This one.”

“Fine. Now we can send these to Keech for engraving. But we still have a problem to deal with. Because of increased subscriptions, we will need almost three thousand engravings to be hand colored. Imber has said his small staff can no longer handle the volume. He suggests coloring only a small portion and selling those issues for a higher price. But frankly, I’d prefer to have them all colored. It would be such a bother to keep track of which subscribers got color and which did not.”

“No, no, they must all be colored,” Flora said. “Your old plates were colored. You cannot offer simple line engravings now, even if they are of better quality. Besides, you cannot expect to continue increasing your subscriptions without hand-colored plates.”

“I agree. But it looks like we will have to hire our own colorists. Perhaps Pru can help find them.”

“Now that one is a different matter, is she not? She could stand to be kissed. By that handsome brother of yours.”

Edwina’s head jerked up. “Nicholas? Kiss Prudence? Don’t be ridiculous, Flora.”

“Not at all ridiculous. The girl can hardly see straight when he’s in the room. Of course, he barely notices her, which is a pity. I shall have to teach her a few tricks to catch his eye.”

Edwina stared at her. “Prudence? Interested in Nicholas? Surely not.”

“Use the eyes in your head, my girl. She’s top-over-tail in love with him, poor thing.”

Edwina was stunned. She had never noticed anything of the sort. Prudence was her friend. How could she have failed to notice something so important? Was she so absorbed in the
Cabinet
and her own personal interests that she paid no attention to those close to her?

“Does Prudence know where to find colorists?” Flora asked.

“I don’t know.” She was still unsettled by the notion of Prudence being in love with Nicholas, and her mind wasn’t yet back on the business at hand.

“Where does one find them? What sorts of skills are required?”

Edwina shrugged. “I suppose they must have
some ability with water colors and be able to paint carefully and neatly. They are usually young women who do piecework here and there and are paid by the sheet. We can’t pay them much, I’m afraid. But I suppose we could place an ad in one of the dailies.”

“Could they work here, do you think?”

“Here?”

“If you could provide the materials, the paints and brushes and such, I believe I could hire you a group of colorists who would be willing to work cheaply and would appreciate the work.”