She closed her eyes, which she was allowed to do because they were shooting through the gap between two lumbering stagecoaches. The buttery soft leather of the seat was perfect to hold onto. She could get a good, tight grip.
“I suppose,” she said, now looking determinedly ahead, “growing up alongside the most provoking boy imaginable was an education of sorts.”
He laughed. “It’s not possible that any of my horribleness rubbed off on you, Min. You’re incapable of being horrible in any way. But I’m glad you made a stand. I’ve hated the thought of you being miserable and mistreated all this time.”
“I’m not as helpless as you think me. I would not have survived the last seven years if I’d not learnt how to handle my aunt.”
“So I see! Then maybe…” He glanced at her. “Are you fond of her?”
“Possibly not as much as I should be, given all she has done for me.”
“Done?” He reined in sharply as their road crossed another, a phaeton racing past. The lady inside waved a hand to Jack, which he returned with an absent nod. “Her, rattling around in that enormous house, with more money than she could spend if she lived for a thousand years, and never giving you a ball or even a come out! I’d say taking in one very small person and giving her food to eat is little enough. And I suppose she made you earn every crust, had you running errands and fetching her medicines and threading her needle, and all that old woman’s work?”
Other vehicles had been crossing their path all this time. Now Jack took his chance and urged his horses through a small gap in the traffic. They made it with no more than an annoyed shout in their direction and continued on down the road.
“Yes,” admitted Lucy.
“And does she appreciate it? Is she fond ofyou, Min?”
She couldn’t pretend she’d never asked herself these questions before. But admitting the answers aloud was still difficult. Especially when Jack shot her those pitying glances. She was glad they were driving and his attention distracted.
“I… I do not know. I’m not sure she is capable of true fondness. Her only concern is herself. But she is…used to me, I suppose. And I am useful. She didn’t want me to come when I got Nell’s letter.”
“I bet not.” He shook his head. Her stupid heart ached. Pity was always so…so painful. “What a life you’ve led.” If they’d been alone, in a quiet room, in her studio, he might have taken her hand again, might have put a hand on her cheek, might—
They were hailed by a man walking along the pavement. Jack pulled the horses to a stop and nodded at the young, fashionable gentleman. Lucy recognised him immediately.
“Warde,” Jack greeted him. “How goes it?”
“Worse and worse,” the man said with an amused flick of his cane in their direction, “now that I see you escaping with the fair Miss Fanshaw in your demon’s sleigh. Caroline Sedgewick firmly told me this morning that only those fluent in paint and brush were to be permitted attendance. Don’t you remember, Miss Fanshaw? How despondent Lord Kiethly and I were when we heard! Our misery surely didn’t pass you by?”
Jack wrinkled his nose at this speech. Lucy wasn’t much more impressed by it, but politely said, “It is nice to see you again, Mr Warde.”
“But explain to us poor bewildered souls, Miss Fanshaw, how Lord Orton, who, I can assure you because I was there at the time, once referred to Somerset House as ‘that place with all the pictures’ conquers, where I myself fail?”
If she felt the over-familiar impertinence of this smiling speech, Jack also seemed to. His gloved fingers tightened irritably on the reins, and one of the horses threw up its head with a jingle of harness.
“Stop talking claptrap, Warde. I’ve known Miss Fanshaw since the day she was born.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling up at them, something sly in the corners of it. “It’s abrotherlyadvantage, I see. Then my ego is uninjured.” He held up a hand, stepping away from the curricle.
“It’s the advantage of longfriendship, Warde,” Jack said, with none of his usual amiability. “Miss Fanshaw has my whole family’s friendship.” Lucy was sure Mr Warde heard the subtle warning—a smirk glanced across his face—but he made no reply, directing a smile at Lucy.
“Until tomorrow, Miss Fanshaw. I’ll see you atthat place with all the pictures, where my ignorance will be best on display. You’ll take pity on me though, I’m sure. I depend entirely upon your feminine charity.”
Jack gave a scathing laugh and set the horses forward with barely a nod for his friend.
“They came to visit you this morning, did they? Warde and Kiethly?”
“To visit Miss Sedgewick, yes.”
“And you’re going to Somerset House with them tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Jack grunted, looking annoyed.
“What is the matter?”
