Page 26 of About a Rogue
Without another word she stalked to her workshop; she had work to do. She unlocked the door with the key she wore on a thin chain around her neck and let herself in.
Here she took a deep breath, feeling at home for the first time in a week. It smelled of wood spirits and enamel, with a faint whiff of turpentine, but it was her own space, just as she’d left it before she’d had to throw herself into the wedding diversions.
Then That Man stepped into the room behind her, and her moment of peace was extinguished like a snuffed candle. “Your workshop, I presume?”
“Obviously.” She took her thick work apron from the peg behind the door and tied it on. “I prefer to work in quiet.”
He smiled. “Of course. I shan’t disturb you.”
He was determined to cling to her. Very well; let him. He could watch her ignore him all day. With any luck at all he would expire of boredom within an hour and go away.
Instead he sat down in the chair next to her workbench and returned to his contracts. Bianca drew breath to protest, then silently let it out. She didn’t care. She would ignore him no matter where he sat.
And she tried. She truly, truly tried. She sat on her stool and spread open her notebooks, skimming her notes to remind herself what progress she’d made a few days ago. The ruby glaze was intractable, coming out too dark for her taste. She wanted it to be the color of ripe strawberries, not burgundy wine.
St. James turned a page. In the frosty silence it sounded loud. Bianca made an impatient noise low in her throat.
“Your pardon, my dear,” he murmured.
She tried to fix her attention on her formula. It was so close. Perhaps a little more potash? A bit less alum? She took down her mortar and pestle to grind another batch from the jars of minerals on the shelf above her head.
A tap at the door sounded, and Billy stuck his head inside. He was twelve, an apprentice in the firing workshop. “More samples for you, ma’am.”
Bianca abandoned the mortar. “Bring them right in! Has the red mellowed?”
Billy shrugged as he carried in the tray of tiles. “A bit.” They’d been fired three days ago and were only now cool enough to examine.
Bianca bent over the tray, scrutinizing each one. “This one looks good... This one is nearly orange, though. What happened? These all had the same sample applied.”
“Edge of the kiln, perhaps, ma’am.” Billy cleared his throat. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning,” said St. James pleasantly. “Billy, was it?”
“Yes, sir.” Billy looked at Bianca nervously. “Billy Tucker, sir. My da works in the throwing house.”
“I believe I made his acquaintance yesterday. Tall fellow with sandy hair?” asked That Man, as if he’d already met and memorized every person at Perusia.
Billy perked up. “Aye, sir! Quite tall. Mum says I’ll be tall like ’im...” His voice petered out as Bianca looked up from her samples. “Are these not right, then?”
“They’re very close,” she replied. “How is your da, Billy? Hands still sore?”
“No, ma’am, that salve you sent over helped that.”
She beamed, pleased. “Lovely! I hope that makes it a bit easier on your mother.” Mrs. Tucker had had a baby only a few months ago. If her husband’s hands had stiffened too much for him to work, they would have been without income.
Billy nodded. “Aye, ma’am.”
“These ones are good. The rest are rubbish.” Bianca picked up the chosen tiles and flipped them to see what she’d marked on the reverse, to be sure she used the right formula. Billy took the tray and left, closing the door behind him.
She made notes in silence for a few moments, until her neck prickled. That Man was watching her. “What?” she snapped.
“How do you formulate the glazes?”
“With a close study of mineral properties, some chemistry intuition, and extensive trials,” she replied without looking up.
“Very impressive,” was all he said in reply. She stole a peek from the corner of one eye to see him holding one of her tiles. He caught her watching and laid it down. “Brilliantly impressive.”
Bianca went back to her work, reminding herself to hate him. He hadn’t the first idea what she did. Calling it impressive was empty flattery from him.
