“And we will. Patience, Nora.”
“Patience? How can you say that? The count thwarts Robert’s will, and we dress up and bow.”
Hot coffee choked him. “‘Dress up and bow?’”
“Like the chorus in a play. Only he keeps the script, and we wander foolishly through the scene.”
“Have you been to many plays? In London?”Intriguing. It hadn’t occurred to him that a vicar’s daughter would have had opportunity for the theater.
“Some. When Edmund was alive, he liked to go, but that is neither here nor there,” she said.
Nora’s eyes lit up suddenly. “I forgot. You just saw Castellimonte. What did he say? Did he complain about my foolish faint?”
“He asked how you went on,” Jamie said. “The man gave every appearance of genuine concern.” His little wren huffed at the thought. “I agree that his sincerity would be difficult to gauge.”
Sandwiches and tea arrived. Jamie began to wolf his down.
“That’s it then? He dragged you over there to ask express concern? I beg leave to doubt it.”
“No, not that. He offered me work,” Jamie replied. He took another bite. Ham and soft cheese melted over his tongue. Jamie liked food. Food was simple. The machinations of counts and governments were not.
“He is plotting something,” Nora said.
Why did I ever think of her as simple?What she lacked in deviousness in herself she identified quickly enough in others.
“I don’t trust him,” she said.
“I don’t either.”
“What did he offer?”
Jamie brushed crumbs from his hands. “He wants me to tutor the young men who make up his household.”
Nora’s jaw went slack. Jamie shrugged. He had not been able to puzzle it out either.
“He wishes me to pound the King’s English into their thick Piedmontese heads,” he said.
“Language, of course! Your fluency could be a valuable asset,” she said.
“Except that the young sprigs of Savoy could have the benefit of a university. Except that he could hire any one of a dozen Englishmen—that poet Keats who lives over by the Spanish steps for one. Why me? Why now?”
“Keep your friends close,” Nora quoted.
“Keep your enemies closer,” he finished. “Which are we?”Wentworth would have no doubt. “He claims we made a positive impression.”
“Must have been the clothes,” Nora cracked. She colored lightly, pinker than the roses. They both knew how hard she tried to avoid buying that wardrobe.
“I suspect he respects someone who speaks up to him, who is not cowed,” Jamie said.
“He must love you then,” she replied.
“Doubtful. Respect perhaps. One can respect an opponent. Respect them but watch them closely.” He swallowed his coffee before he told her the rest. “He offered a respectable salary.”
“But that’s wonderful.” Nora bounced up in her chair. “We don’t need money, of course, but you—” She stuttered to a stop. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply?—”
“Don’t apologize. I know what you mean. It would feel good to have cash of my own, I admit,” he said.
“Will you take it?” she asked.
