“Silas and his swollen head.” Howard made a sadtsking sound.
“Hmm.” Rose pursed her lips and tried to concentrate on the model’s pose.
“I hear he’s nabbed a patron. Probably some toff.”
“Oh?” Jealousy caught in her chest, but she did her best to keep her face and tone neutral. Barely.
Howard sighed and sat down on a paint-splattered stool, cradling his head in one hand. “Who knows. Probably one ofthosetypes of arrangements. Might be why he cast you off.”
Rose knew he meant well, so she blew out a sigh instead of biting his head off. She had scarce few friends now. She ought not burn all her bridges.
“What about you?”
Her brows shot up and she turned from her easel, forgetting that just a moment ago she’d vowed to keep her head. “Whataboutme?”
“Nothing, just curious is all. It’s been ages since Jurgens let you go.” He held both hands up in a show of peace. “It’s a real shame; you’re one of the best.”
“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t meant to be tetchy, but he’d tiptoed around the idea of lovers, which reminded her of those irritating thoughts of Joseph once more. Rose could feel heat spreading throughout her body. She closed her eyes and said, “I’ve a portrait commission.”
“Egad, Rose!” Howard exclaimed, and jumped up in a charming, if boisterous, display.
“Do youmind?!” hissed Miss Sykes from across the room, her narrow face twisted up in a scowl.
Howard rolled his eyes, but lowered his voice to a whisper. “Who is it? Is he handsome? Or is it a she? Is she quite beautiful? Are they well known?”
Rose glanced at her friend’s wide, hopeful eyes. Instead of feeling dismayed, the humor of the situation warmed her heart.
“He,” she said slowly, “is a dog.”
They stared at one another until their grins could be contained no longer, then collapsed into laughter, earning another flurry of scornful shushes from Miss Sykes.
Rose did not care. It felt good to laugh.
Chapter Five
The days passed interminably.With nothing to do but wait, he’d read every report that had been compiled, some sections more than once. Attempting to envision a future without the opium trade, he’d picked over a stack of newspapers and business journals in search of an idea for an alternative venture, but nothing quite caught his interest. He supposed he should be alarmed, if he’d any sense left. For so long, business and power had been his only aims. And now his business teetered on the brink, while he found himself at the mercy of the memory of a woman.
He’d have called it madness, were he observing himself from afar. But the feeling was in him, growing with a fervor he’d never expected. A fragile hope that things might be different now. And now there was no longer time to wonder whether he was, in fact, mad.
For at last, Mrs. Hartley’s dog was to have its first sitting appointment.
Yusef found himself taking more care with his appearance than usual. Even his valet dared to cock an eyebrow when he rejected his selection of cravat and pocket square.
“Thoughts, Mann?”
“None, sir,” came the man’s easy reply.
“Good.” Yusef tied the tie himself.
He arrived at Hartley’s home an hour past the start of the appointment. He didn’t want to interfere with her work too much, but he also would not dare risk missing her. The little spaniel seemed a simple enough sort, and he did not know how quickly she’d finish. There was no point in subterfuge, pretending to have serendipitously stumbled across her once again. She’d have him figured out the minute she set eyes on him again, one thick eyebrow rising in irritation. The thought warmed him.
“They’re in the morning room again,” Hartley said by way of a greeting, raising his teacup toward Yusef in a half-salute. “Tea?”
Yusef arched an eyebrow as he removed his gloves, dropping them into the waiting hands of the man’s wraith of a butler.
“Are you always in the habit of taking your tea in thehallway?” Yusef gave the offending teacup and saucer in Hartley’s hands a hard look.
“Not usually. Only with close friends. Family.” Hartley grinned and took another sip.
