Page 32
TWELVE
Stockworth Manor conservatory
The next day — afternoon
Aubriella rovedher gaze around the large conservatory, seeking an ideal location to sketch Jack. Perhaps over there, against the backdrop of potted Ficus and ferns. With enough candles strategically arranged, the lighting should be sufficient.
She’d decided the greenhouse was the most logical place to carry out her daring plan. To draw the various poses she desired, Aubriella estimated she’d need four to six hours, which meant at least two nights, mayhap three, of clandestine sneaking back and forth.
Jack wouldn’t be happy, and she fully expected he’d refuse more than a single night. She’d cross that hurdle when it arose. Nevertheless, not only was the solar warm—she didn’t want him goose fleshed and shivering—but late at night, it wasn’t likely anyone would interrupt them, including Francine.
She and her father had departed Stockworth Manor last evening without bidding their hosts farewell. No great loss there. What was a loss was Roxina’s presence. She’d pleaded a headache when Aubriella had retired last night and refused to leave their shared chamber today.
In truth, her friend appeared quite ill, though she refused Aubriella’s offer to send for a physician. When Aubriella had peeked in on Roxina an hour ago, she’d been asleep in the darkened chamber. As soon as tea was over, Aubriella intended to check on her again. It wasn’t like Roxina to remain abed.
Twice today, Shelby Tellinger approached Aubriella and inquired after Roxina.
That was most peculiar, since he usually distanced himself from Roxina. His concern was highly suspicious, and the more Aubriella considered it, the more she became convinced that not only was Roxina hiding in the bedchamber, she was hiding something. Something that caused her such distress that the typically stalwart Roxina refused to leave her chamber.
Aubriella meant to have the truth from her dearest friend.
With Jessamine’s hand tucked in the crook of her elbow, the sisters and several others strolled the stone pavers, heated from beneath by a system of pipes linked to a wood furnace.
With its orange and lemon trees, pineapple plants, as well as several palms and other sun-loving vegetation, the greenhouse emitted a tropical atmosphere, which is exactly what Mabel had intended for this afternoon’s tea. The idyllic scene starkly contrasted with the outdoors, where fluffy, wet snowflakes had started falling half an hour ago.
“Do you think the snow will stick, Elli?” Peering through the slightly foggy windows, Jessamine pulled her mazarine blue velvet pelisse’s collar higher before glancing down at her impractical flared-heel, striped shoes.
“I honestly don’t know, Minnie.”
Aubriella hoped not.
Wasn’t it a mere fortnight ago she prayed for snow and now asked the Good Lord for the opposite?
She didn’t relish trudging from the manor house to the conservatory at midnight in a foot of snow. All in the name of science, of course. It didn’t hurt that Jack was dreadfully handsome and possessed a Greek god’s splendid physique. What else explained the taut fabric across his broad shoulders and long legs?
Jessamine formed a moue with her mouth.
On other girls, the pout seemed petulant, but the small turning down of Jessamine’s lips gave her a fragile appearance rather than spoiled. “I shall ruin my new shoes for certain, and so shall you should we have to walk back to the house in the snow.”
“Never fear, Miss Jessamine.” Will Durham, one of Jessamine’s most ardent admirers, sidled closer, not about to let such an opportunity pass. Reed thin and an inch shorter than Aubriella, he puffed out his chest.
An underweight robin or a bantam rooster.
“I shall be honored to carry you,” he proudly pronounced.
Aubriella bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the comical image that presented. She would wager Mr. Durham couldn’t lift a hay bale, let alone her sister, and Jessamine would find herself headfirst in a snowdrift.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Durham,” Mama interjected before Aubriella or Jessamine could formulate a suitable response. Leave it to Mama to hone in on an over-eager suitor and firmly dissuade his zealous efforts to court Jessamine.
Aubriella slid a glance at the glass panels.
She doubted anyone would make it to the house without sodden footwear and damp hems.
A naughty, rebellious impulse made her shove her pointed-toe shoe outward a couple of inches and wiggle her foot. To test the waters, so to speak.
Would Will Durham notice?
She even cleared her throat. Quite noisily, in fact. A frog with croup would’ve sounded more ladylike.
