“Come now, Lucy,” teased Miss Sedgewick, “if there’s anyone who appreciates a good prank, it’s Jack Orton.”
“But not at his expense.”
“Ah-hah, but isn’t it high time the tables were turned?”
“I would… I would put a frog in his water jug,” Lucy admitted, half laughing, half frightened at the growing urge she was doing her best to resist. “But to do this!”
“The frog can be arranged,” George said with a smile. He gave another bow. “Happy to be of service.”
“But it isn’t only for Jack’s benefit that we do this,” Miss Sedgewick said, “but for yours. And George’s. In fact, I hardly see what concern it is of Jack’s at all.” There was a dangerous twinkle in her eye as she fixed Lucy with a look. “Do you?”
“I…”
How to answer that? What businesswasit of Jack’s? What business who she married—or pretended to marry? Or what she did with her life at all? He was even trying to interfere in her dream of being a professional painter, and all because he thought her too young, too naïve to understand how to navigate her own way in the world.
Becoming someone’s wife would teach him, wouldn’t it? It’d show him she was a grown woman, not the little girl he’d once known. And besides…why should her pretend engagement to Mr Simmons do anything other than surprise him? He’d ignored her for seven years, he’d made it very clear he saw her as nothing but his old friend, the amusing pet of his boyhood. And a shamengagement was only what he himself had suggested—he could hardly object—but this would save him all the trouble and gossip of acting the part himself…
When Lucy thought back to the two men who’d visited only that morning, to the way their eyes had measured her, she could easily imagine it a hundredfold. Almost everyone she’d met on her walk with Miss Sedgewick had weighed and watched her in a similar style.
True, noteveryonewould be angling for her supposed fortune themselves, of course, but they’d still be avid spectators, studying and gossiping over every man she met or spent any time with. All she wanted was to meet men like Mr Thornton and Mr Cotton and speak of art and work without the world’s eyes upon her. Her aspirations would take her frequently into men’s worlds. Perhapssomeprotection might be wise.
She looked at George… He was a very kind man…but it was a great deal to ask.
“If…if it would benefit you, Mr Simmons?” she began hesitantly. “And if it is just a prank…it cannot do any great harm, can it?”
“No harm at all!” cried Miss Sedgewick. “And, if I’m right, possibly a great deal of good.”
Lucy and Mr Simmons exchanged a look. A shy smile. Miss Sedgewick clapped her hands.
“Excellent. And now that’s decided, let’s move onto plan number two: A frog in Jack’s water jug…”
They all laughed. And that was good. It made Lucy believe it really was all just a joke.
Sixteen
Jack dined at home, which was unusual enough to make his taciturn butler enquire with a degree of concern whether he was well.
“Perfectly,” replied Jack, with an asperity which was also uncommon. He refilled his glass from the almost empty decanter in the library and took it with him as he left for the dining room. “But I suspect tomorrow morning will be another matter.”
Dalcher replied with only a bow and, knowing his duties to perfection, took the depleted decanter and set off to refill it.
Jack’s cook, who also knew his duty, had provided a feast fit for his master’s rare attention. Unfortunately for him, Jack’s attention was somewhat absent. He pushed some items around his plate with a fork, sighed, then pushed the plate away with a scowl, leaning back in his chair as he took a large mouthful of wine.
“Shehatesbeing called Min, does she?” he muttered. “Hates it, apparently. Since when? And why the devil nottellme when she’s had twenty years to do so?”
Disgusted to find he was talking to himself, he stood and stalked to the fire, where he leant glowering down at the innocent yellow flame and absently kicking his boot against the edge of the fender. He was mightily glad when Dalcher announced George Simmons.
“I’m remembering why dining alone is a bad idea,” he said as his friend came into the room. “Silence is terribly judgemental company.”
George just smiled. “I tried the Cocoa Tree first, but they’d seen nothing of you today. Thought I’d try here on the off chance, however unlikely it seemed to find you home at this hour. But I must admit, I’m glad—I have news I’d rather share in private.”
“Oh?” Jack gestured for George to sit down at the table. “Help yourself. There’s plenty. Clearly my cook didn’t believe I reallywasdining alone.”
“Thank you.” George pulled a few dishes towards himself and examined them while Jack returned to his original seat.
But George seemed to have as little appetite as Jack, merely poking at the dishes without taking anything. In fact, Jack thought as he watched the man, he seemed to be brimming with nervous excitement. Clearly his news was of great importance.
“Go on, then,” he said dryly, recognising the symptoms. “Who is she this time? And what makes you believe her?”
