“None, other than meeting at Almack’s last night. But Caroline can make a friend of anyone, and she’s already promised Min art and artists, so she’ll be as happy as a clam. Indeed, she’s stuck as fast as a barnacle. I tried to take her back to Nell’s, but she refused.”
“You can hardly blame her.”
“No,” agreed Jack. Then he laughed. “But how ungenerous of you to my sister’s company!”
“But, Jack, after that argument…”
“Yes, poor Min is apparently an artful, title-grabbing strumpet, determined to ensnare me by any means, foul or fair.”
“She’s nothing of the sort!” George exploded. Then, blushing, he added, “I mean…that is to say…I only met her briefly and she seemed to me…erm…a very pleasant, gentle sort of girl.”
Jack eyed him, smiling. “Go on, George, don’t stop there. It’s hardly poetry, but I’m enjoying it immensely.”
George pulled a face, very red about the ears. Jack laughed.
“Never mind, I’ll do the job myself. Min is a dear, sweet girl, entirely incapable of dishonesty. And what’s more, having known me since birth, knowing all my faults, knowing that I am, in fact, as she so often used to call me,a horrible boy, she’s the last person in the world who’d ever wish to marry me, even if I were a duke.”
“You think so?” said George, looking at him strangely.
“Of course! It’s a miracle she ever consented to be friends with me. But there you go, as I already said, she’s all sweetness and heart, and I’ve never really deserved her.”
George was still staring at him, but he made no reply, turning a few pages absently in his ledger.
“What?” prompted Jack. “You know it’s true.”
“That you have friends you don’t deserve?” He grinned. “Oh, undoubtedly.”
Jack laughed at that.
“Come on,” he said, standing up. “You can’t mean to spend the whole day stuck at that desk. Let’s go and see how the ladies fare.”
“But we’re engaged to meet Parling at the Dragon and go to Richards’, remember? I was about to get ready to leave when you arrived.”
“Are we? Blast. Alright, then we’ll call on Min afterwards. I was given a free invitation to that house, and I mean to make use of it.”
It was evening by the time Jack managed to shake off his friends and walk, with George, to Miss Sedgewick’s house. They arrived to find the ladies busily engaged in a small room, rearranging it into what appeared to be an artist’s studio, boxes and canvases and easels everywhere.
He paused on the threshold, wincing at the sound of a desk being pushed over the floorboards before leaping in to relieve the ladies of the task. “Where’s William?” he asked Caroline. “This seems like something your footman ought to help with.”
“He already has more than enough work. And we can manage, can’t we, Lucy?”
“Yes,” she said, her skin glowing as much with exertion as embarrassment. She flashed him a determined look, the effect undermined by the fact she was breathing heavily—something he couldn’t help but note given the shabby muslin gown she was wearing for the task, an old one she seemed rather to have grown out of.
He pulled his eyes from the ridiculously luscious expanse the dress’s neckline left exposed and waved the women away from the desk. “Perhaps youcanmanage, but you oughtn’t have to. George and I’ll do the heavy lifting.” He pushed the desk against the wall, turning to look at the chaos in the room. The air was thick with the unfamiliar scents of oil paints and artist’s chemicals. For such a small, quiet person, Min was certainly making her presence felt.
“What else? This rug?” He shrugged out of his coat. “Help me roll it up, George.”
Min inevitably made some further protests, but Caroline took her from the room, promising they would return with refreshments in their wake. It didn’t take long, but neither did clearing the centre of the room. Jack was beginning to look through some of the boxes when the ladies returned. “I’ve no idea what half this stuff is, Min, or where to put it. You’ll have to tell me.”
“Yes, you do that, Lucy,” said Caroline. “Make sure you keep an eye on him or your whole studio will end up back to front. But I simply must take George—he’s been desperate to see this new set of arias.”
“Have I?” said George, puzzled. But a look from Caroline seemed to jog his memory. “Oh! Yes. The arias. You know how I love an aria.”
They left the room, leaving Jack and Min alone.
“Well, my little Minnow,” he said with a grin, leaning back against the desk he’d moved and folding his arms—a position much more comfortable without a coat. “Now that you’ve managed to slip away from us Ortons, how have you enjoyed your first day as Miss Sedgewick’s guest?”
Min looked from him to the box in her hands. “She is very kind.” It appeared to be full of tiny glass jars. She flipped the lid closed, finger running over the brass clasp. “She…she took meshopping. And we went to an art shop. And I met Mr Thornton there. Mr Philip Thornton, the portrait painter.”
