She wanted flowers; he’d damn well provide them for her.
Four weeks later, however, both his enthusiasm and his patience were waning.
Despite turning the grounds behind her house into the beginnings of a botanical paradise, she had yet to even acknowledge him. But she had seen him. He knew this because on more than one instance he’d caught her peeking out a window.
Of course, she never acknowledged him on these occasions. She’d avert her gaze and quickly drop the drapes.
And although he found a certain comfort being close to her, it was becoming quite apparent that he was going to have to take more proactive measures. While trying to come up with a plan, he most fortuitously found himself presented with the perfect opportunity one evening while sitting in Whites.
Chance initially did not recognize the man sitting across from him writing fervently in a small leather journal. But upon taking a second glance, there was no mistake. Dressed more conservatively on this occasion, the man most definitely was the one who had access to the woman that by all rights, ought to be Chance’s.
“Cline, is it?” Chance leaned forward, arms draped across his knees.
When the blighter glanced up Chance was able to get an even better look at him. Sure enough, weak chin, dull brown hair that was already receding and would be gone entirely within three years, and fake padding obviously sewn into his coat atop his shoulders and likely into the calves of his breeches as well.
What on earth was hisprincessethinking?
“Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey,” he whispered beneath his breath.
“Excuse me?” The dandy stared at him questioningly.
Chance leaned forward. “Chauncey,” he offered a hand.
Dandy Dick sat down his writings and licked his lips. “Your Grace? My pleasure, my pleasure. Richard Cline at your service, Literary Expert and patron of the arts. How did you know my name, do you mind my asking?”
Chance smiled to himself. “You write Poetry, don’t you? I believe I heard talk of your work over cards last week.”
The man who’d managed to insert himself into Aubrey’s life smiled, easily accepting that such talk could only be of a flattering nature. “Have you read any of it? Several of my published works are displayed at a few of the local booksellers.”
Chance would jump on just such an opportunity. “Ah, but it’s always better to hear poetry read by the author, himself.”
The man frowned but after a moment lit up. “Have you heard of Mrs. Ambrosia Bloomington? I host readings at her residence monthly. They are quite the thing these days and your presence would be most welcome, I’m sure.”
Why did Richard Cline not host his readings at his own residence? Was he not flush enough to keep one in Mayfair? Last Chance knew, poetry wasn’t an especially lucrative undertaking.
Chance frowned. “Mrs. Bloomington, you say? I make it a point to avoid socializing with old crones, if you take my meaning.” Chance waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, but Ambrosia, Mrs. Bloomington, that is, is nothing of the sort. Lovely young widow. In fact, she and I have an unofficial agreement. We’re to wed at season’s end, after she’s acquired my mother’s approval, of course. I understand, Your Grace, that you’ve been absent from London as of late. A salon hosted by Ambrosia Bloomington is considered to be incomparable.”
“Lovely, you say? And might this patroness of the arts be wealthy, as well?” Chance could not believe Aubrey had allowed herself to become involved with such a dandified fraud.
Mr. Cline frowned and then shook his head most emphatically. More emphatic, Chance surmised, than necessary. “Oh, but I wouldn’t know about that.”
Chance had had quite enough. “I’d be more than happy to take you up on your invitation. Where is this most incomparable lady’s home and when is the next reading?”
“You’re in luck, Your Grace. Tomorrow night. Set to begin at nine in the evening. We’d be honored for you to join us.”
Chance chuckled softly. An invite from Dandy Dick, himself.
He was done waiting. She’d have to speak with him tomorrow night. She wouldn’t make a scene. Chance knew her too well. She would be gracious, even if she did not feel graciously toward him.
Chapter 18
Chance
Mr. Edwards was at last allowed the opportunity to dress his most difficult employer to the nines.
Chance stared at himself in the mirror and scowled.
