Page 23 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
He snorted and spun to look out the window.
“So… how far is Manchester?” she asked.
“It will take at least two days of travel. If there’s good weather.”
Two days. Trapped. With him. And… what about… “What are your plans for the night? Will we travel all the way through?”
“’Tis better to sleep in the coach than to risk being seen.”
Surprisingly thoughtful, but… “Surely we do not need to worry about my reputation. There will be men there who return to London with us and think me a lightskirt. There are already those in London who think me a lightskirt.”
He scratched his jaw and spoke to the world rolling away outside the window. “No use hiding your identity, then.”
“None whatsoever. I’ve had contact with many in the art community during my time in the Drury Lane house. I can only assume they’ve gossiped about me. I may even know someone at the party. From my old life.” She’d been engaged to a painter, after all, had met his friends and tried to fit into his world.
Theo’s mouth thinned. “I’d not considered that. Will it bother you? Everyone thinking of you as my mistress?”
“No. But… I may need to ask a favor of you while we are there.”
His hands folded together, a tight web of bone. “What is it?”
“I had planned on finding a respectable patron for my school who did not mind my own situation, who could act as the school’s face and seek out other patrons in my stead. I had thought, perhaps, Lady Balantine could fulfill that role. I would have asked her today had you not shown up, offering a quicker solution.”
“Hm. A smart approach to a difficult complication.”
She blinked. He’d just complimented her. How unexpected. Unexpected, too, her reaction to it. She wanted to puff up with pride, to let spill all her other ideas and see how he liked those. She swallowed the fever to do so and folded her hands in her lap as if they didn’t want to flutter up into the air with delight. “Erm… thank you. But the complication still exists at Holloway House, yes? Even at such a gathering, people will be more likely to sponsor a project headed by someone of slightly more respectable standing than myself.”
“I had not considered before. Perhaps we should go back—”
“No!” She reached for him, laid her hand on top of his folded ones. “I have a solution—the favor I’m asking of you. We will simply tell everyone it’s your school. It is named foryourfather, after all.”
“Bloody hell. No.”
“We must. What sins are considered unforgivable in me will be quite forgotten in you. Pretending the school belongs to a man with a mistress will not hurt its chances, while revealing it’s run by a woman only pretending to be a mistress will. Unfair but true. And we must act accordingly unless… Is there a way I can attend without pretending to be your mistress? We can’t say I’m your sister because that implicates your father, and—”
“No. Not that. Perhaps we should bring a chaperone. No. Pentshire said he’d kept the guest list small and selective. He would not allow another woman with no artistic leanings in.”
“What an odd man.”
“His oddities are giving me a headache.” Theo untangled his fingers and rubbed his temples.
“We’ll present the school as yours,” Cordelia said, “and I’ll work to win them over so that when they find out I’m the headmistress, they’ll be less likely to run off, taking their blunt with them.”
Theo sighed. “This is proving more complicated than I anticipated. But I think it will work out. Pentshire is being rather rabid about secrecy. My hope is that the guests will remain silent if we do. They’ll want their secrets kept, too.” The corner of his lip twitched ever so slightly upward.
A smile? No. Never. She leaned forward, demolishing the space between them and poked the tip of her finger into that quirked corner of his lips. “What is that?”
He swatted her hand away, his limbs wheeling wildly. “You”—he pointed a finger at her—“remain on your side of the coach.”
“The entire time?”
“The entire time.”
She lifted a brow. “You are safe from me. But you must explain the quirk of your lip. You see, I did not think it possible for you to smile.”
“I didn’t.”
“Not quite, true. But the potential was there, brimming in that”—she focused on his mouth and leaned forward once more, the finger unfurling from her loose fist—“corner.”
