Page 11 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Kate turned around.“I thought I would go around to the bookshops to purchase the texts Mr.Sterling mentioned.”
The three young men caught up with her and stopped.“That’s where we’re headed as well,” Colin noted.
“But not before we’ve had lunch,” Roderick said.“I’m starving.”
“You ate half your weight in eggs and sausages not three hours ago,” Arthur noted dryly.
“Aye.As ye said, ’twas three entire hours ago.”Roderick slapped Kate on the shoulder, forcing her to take a staggering step forward.“Come on, then.What’re ye waiting for?”
“Oh!”They were inviting her to lunch.Kate couldn’t believe it was this easy.“I didn’t want to presume.”
“We’d be glad to have you,” Colin said.“But you don’t have to come if you’d rather not.”
“Yes, ye do,” Roderick said.“We’re going to share all the same lectures, and we’re going to be doing it for the next three and a half years.Face it, Witherspoon—ye’re stuck with us.”
Kate laughed.“I daresay that will suit me just fine.”
They went to a nearby pub.Kate ordered the same drink as her companions—brown ale—along with a ham, leek, and potato pie.A barmaid brought out the drinks, and Kate braced herself as she took her first sip, trying not to wince and give away the fact that she’d never had it before.But it wasn’t as bitter as she had expected; it actually had a hint of caramel.
Arthur leaned back in his seat.“Where’d you learn to draw like that?”
Kate had already decided that her best strategy was to stay as close to the truth as possible.“I’m mostly self-taught.”
Colin gaped at her.“Self-taught?Really?”
Kate shrugged.“There wasn’t any money for lessons.And there wasn’t much to do in the little village where I grew up other than paint.”
“Ah, boredom,” Arthur mused.“The most powerful of the muses.”
Roderick nodded to the barmaid as she set a huge pork chop before him.“I’ve seen a painting by that Kenneth Weatherby bloke.”
Kate almost choked on the bite of ham pie she’d just taken.She waved a hand in front of her mouth and took a sip of ale, pretending it had been too hot.Once she’d recovered, she said, “Is that so?”
Roderick took a swig of his ale.“My Uncle Angus bought it.It’s of a pheasant.He has it hanging in his study.”
“I… I see,” Kate sputtered.She wasn’t sure which painting he was referring to.She’d painted a lot of pheasants over the years, as they were popular with sportsmen.
“I’ve seen quite a few of his works,” Arthur said.“There was an exhibition at the Royal Society the year before last.And another one at Oxford, the year before that.”
Kate recalled those exhibitions perfectly.They had been the highlights of her father’s career, such as it were.Although Kate had spent months on those paintings, he had not taken her with him to see either of the exhibitions.“I’m afraid I missed them.”
“Have ye seen his work before?”Arthur asked.
Kate poked at her pie, considering her answer.“No, I’ve never seen anything painted by Kenneth Weatherby before.”It happened to be true; her father couldn’t draw so much as a matchstick man.“Why do you ask?”
“Because his style is remarkably similar to yours,” Arthur observed.
Kate fumbled her fork, dropping it handle-first into her pie.“Oh!That’s… That’s very kind.What a wonderful compliment!”She fished out her fork and wiped it on her napkin.“I think you’ll find that the work of most scientific illustrators is somewhat similar.We attempt to paint as precisely and as true to life as possible, rather than incorporating a personal style.”
This was a bald-faced lie.Kate could identify the work of a dozen different scientific illustrators at a glance.But she hoped her statement sounded plausible to someone without artistic training.
“I agree with Arthur,” Roderick said.“His work is good.Very good.But I don’t think it’s any better than yers.”
“That’s nice of you to say,” Kate replied.“I hope that by doing this project with Mr.Sterling, I’ll be able to establish a reputation as a scientific illustrator, just like Mr.Weatherby.So,” she said, eager to change the subject, “where are you all from?”
The conversation moved on, but Kate was unable to relax.What did men talk about when no women were around?She had a terrible feeling she was about to find out.
Surely enough, when the time came to clear their plates, the barmaid leaned forward, exposing an impressive expanse of bosom.“Is there anything else I can get ye gents?”she asked suggestively, her eyes fixed on Colin.
