He needn’t have worried. It was not a dandy.
Worse. It was a woman.
She was tall and slender, her movements brisk and unflustered despite the wind tugging at her hem. A fitted gray-blue walking dress hugged her frame with quiet precision, practical but well-cut, and a dark Spencer jacket nipped in smartly at her waist. Posture so straight it looked like she had practiced carrying a book on her head from themoment she could walk. She wore her bonnet low, tied neatly at the chin, a single charcoal feather curling from the side. In one gloved hand, she held a sketch case; the other adjusted her bonnet against the breeze but not before he caught a glimpse of white blonde hair.
James blinked, then looked past her, expecting a man to follow. No one did. Instead, a slight woman with flaming red hair stepped from the carriage.
The blonde turned to face him fully, her expression cool and composed.
“Lord Ashford, I presume?”
James scowled. “That’s right. Who are you?”
Her mouth curved, just barely, and her gaze faltered. “I’m Georgiana Fairfax. Your architect.”
“Surely there’s been a mistake? I was expecting a man. Perhaps your husband?”
“My husband, Robert Fairfax, has passed away. But I can assure you, he taught me everything he knew.”
This woman was an architect? Surely not. For one thing, she was extremely pretty and delicate. Light blue eyes that took up half her face. Pointy chin that paired perfectly with her full mouth. She was young, too. No more than his two and twenty years. How could she be a widow already? “No, I’m afraid this won’t do. I need a real architect. A man.”
She lifted her chin, eyes flashing. “You of all people should know better than to judge someone merely because of their gender or station in life. Seeing as you were a tavern owner instead of a gentleman not so long ago.”
“How did you know that?
“Your family’s been the talk at many social events since the news came from the King.” Georgiana turned toward the other woman, who stood a good foot behind. “This is my younger sister, Cecily. She acts as my secretary.”
James inspected the redhead more closely. Now that he knew they were sisters, the resemblance was obvious. They shared a similar facial structure and fair skin. However, Cecily possessed a pair of hazel eyes and she lacked the fierceness of the woman claiming to be an architect.
Speaking of which: Women were not permitted to study architecture formally at universities or architectural academies. Institutions like the Royal Academy or the Society of Civil Engineers were closed to women, and the field of architecture was considered strictly masculine and professional. In fact, James had often heard it referred to as a gentleman’s art, often passed down through apprenticeships. “Isn’t school required for the title of architect? Which you wouldn’t have been able to attend. Am I right?”
The sooner he sent her back down the driveway, the better.
Georgiana’s fingers tightened around the strap of her sketch case. “I wasn’t formally educated, Lord Ashford. As you mentioned, women aren’t permitted in the architectural academies. Sadly.” Her voice remained steady, though a hint of steel threaded beneath it. “I studied in my father’s library from the time I could read. As an adolescent, a tutor taught me drawing, geometry and technical sketching. I had a natural ability that blossomed through hard work. I then married a respected architect at age eighteen. After we married, I worked at Robert’s side—drafting plans, managing site visits, consulting with clients. He encouraged me, saying I had an instinct for proportion and a mind for structure. The firm you hired bears his name, yes. But much of its work bears my hand. All of it, actually, now that Robert’s dead.”
“They can’t just send you out here and expect me to trust you with the restoration of my family’s legacy!” James kept his voice even but inside anger flared. How dare they send this chit of a woman out here?
“Theyis me, Lord Ashford. I am the sole owner of the firm you hired. The contract bears my name.”
“The contract does not bear your name. It says George, not Georgiana.”
She flushed and gazed down at her boots peeking out from under the hem of her dress. “I am known as George or Georgie in my professional circles and friends.”
“Well, George, that may well be—but the truth is—I have no intention of hiring you. I apologize for your trouble but I must ask you to leave.”
Cecily retreated backward several inches but Georgiana did the opposite. She stepped closer. “Our contract is legally binding. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Or out the large retainer you already paid me.”
Despite the cool temperatures, perspiration had broken out on his forehead and the back of his neck. He’d paid a sizable sum to hire Fairfax Architecture. If he’d known it was a woman, he would not have done so. However, he was a practical man. Losing that much money was not something he could do and sleep at night. He narrowed his eyes, studying her further. Was it possible this wide-eyed beauty could take on this kind of project? He guessed he was about to find out.
“Shall we go inside?” Georgiana asked. “It looks as if it might rain.”
The triumph in her eyes irritated him. But what choice did he have?
*
He showed theladies inside, rather reluctantly. James led them through the wide front hall with its checkerboard floor of cracked marble, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
“To the right here is the drawing room.” James pushed open the heavy double doors and held them open for the ladies before following them. Seeing this room in such disrepair stole his breath for a moment, just as it had the first day he arrived. It was as if their former life had frozen in time, leaving behind ghosts of the past. Every inch of theroom held memories that made his chest feel heavy and sore.
