Page 7 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Kate paused, bending forward to admire the delicate, lacy stitches her great-aunt had been working in a fine, dove-grey wool.Out of all the luxuries Great-Aunt Agatha could have requested now that a duke was paying her bills, the one thing she had wanted was high-quality wool.Kate wasn’t very skilled with a pair of needles, but as an artist, she appreciated outstanding craftsmanship in any form.“This isgorgeous.”
Great-Aunt Agatha waved her off, but her face creased into a smile.“Oh, settle down!Ye’re the artist in the family.Speaking of, is that yer sketchpad I see there?”
“It is.”Kate flipped to the drawings she’d made today.“I went to the Upper Museum over at the university.Did you know that they keep a live puma as a pet?”
“You must mean Marigold!”Great-Aunt Agatha laughed at Kate’s startled expression.“That cat is something of a celebrity around here.Did ye know that they keep a man on staff who’s charged with walking her each morning?He doesnae usually make it quite this far, but every once in a great while, I look out my window and see that gorgeous beast striding down the Royal Mile as if she owns it.”
Kate obligingly turned the pages so Great-Aunt Agatha could see her sketches.Once she finished, she casually said, “I met someone at the museum.”
This was a lie, of course, but if she was going to enroll at the university, Kate would need a plausible excuse to come and go from the house at odd hours.
“Oh?”Great-Aunt Agatha replied.
“It was the headmistress of a school for young ladies,” Kate said in a rush.“She saw me sketching Marigold and asked if I would be interesting in giving drawing lessons to her students.”
A grin split her great-aunt’s face.“Och, Katie!That’s wonderful!I wonder if it’s a school that I’ve heard of.What was her name?”
Kate immediately regretted speaking before having time to better develop her lie.“Mrs… McGillicuddy.”
McGillicuddy?Really, Kate?
If Great-Aunt Agatha found the name unusual, she gave no sign of it.“Hmm.I haven’t heard of that particular school.They must be cropping up all the time, with the way the city is growing.”She leaned forward and patted Kate’s hand.“Well, I can certainly see why they would want you!”
Kate was spared from having to elaborate on her poorly thought out cover story by their neighbor, Mrs.Douglas, who came bustling into the room.She leaned forward, peering at Kate’s sketchpad.“Why, it’s our Marigold!I saw her taking her morning constitutional Thursday last.I say, Kate, those are excellent!Not that I’m surprised, mind you.”
Mrs.Douglas took the chair next to Great-Aunt Agatha.A minute later, one of the housemaids arrived with a tray of tea and shortbread.Kate prepared them each a cup, then showed Mrs.Douglas her sketches.
Once she finished, the two women settled in for a chat, and Kate excused herself to go add some watercolors to her sketches of Marigold.
Upstairs in her room, she flipped through her sketchpad, choosing which poses she would turn into paintings.As she began transferring the sketches to larger sheets of paper, she mused that today had gone surprisingly well.She had apparently succeeded in passing herself off as a boy.She had managed to don and remove her disguise without being caught.And she was well on her way to securing the position.
Now that she had met Nathaniel Sterling, she found that she very much wanted this madcap scheme to work out.This was such a good opportunity for her to establish her reputation as a scientific illustrator.And Mr.Sterling seemed like he would make an outstanding collaborator.Her initial impression was that he was highly intelligent.The fact that he’d been made a tutor at such an early age suggested that his research was first-rate, unlike that of her father.Kenneth Weatherby had spent most of his career chasing after wyverns and basilisks, hoping to make a name for himself by making a breakthrough discovery, never grasping that the reason the pegasus remained undiscovered was because it did not, in fact, exist.
Just as important, Mr.Sterling seemed to have a sincere appreciation for her talents.He was glad to have her as part of the project.
Yes, those were the reasons she was embarking on this rash scheme.
Not because she found Nathaniel Sterling so attractive.
In truth, the fact that she found him attractive was a deterrent rather than an inducement.Kate was taciturn by nature.She knew nothing about flattery and flirtation.The mere thought of being alone in a room with such a handsome man was making the back of her neck feel itchy, as if she were breaking out in hives.Her natural instinct was not to fling herself into his arms so much as to hide in the corner.
Although… Nathaniel Sterling had been surprisingly easy to talk to.It helped that he was a naturalist and they had so many interests in common, she supposed.Conversing with him had been terrifying, but if she was honest, she had also found it exhilarating.
Oh, all right.She supposed that, in the interest of honesty, she should say that the fact that she found Mr.Sterling attractive served as a deterrent and an inducement in equal measures.
Had she met him in London, she would have been quietly thrilled.She might not have had the faintest idea how to approach him.But she rather thought that, for the first time in her life, she would have been bestirred enough to try.
But meeting him here in Edinburgh, while she was dressed as a boy, the budding attraction she felt toward him could cause nothing but trouble.
She could only hope that the project they would undertake would not force them to work in close proximity.Because it wouldn’t do for a young man to go around making cow eyes at his tutor, and Kate was fairly certain she was not capable of being in the same room as Nathaniel Sterling for any length of time without making an absolute cake of herself.
She heaved a sigh.Now was not the time to fret over such things.She needed to focus on securing the job.There would be plenty of time later to worry about how she would carry it out.
Reaching for her paintbox, she set to work.
Chapter5
That evening, Nathaniel jogged down the stairs at the boardinghouse run by his landlady, Mrs.Livingston.He had become lost in his reading, and as a consequence, he was late.It was only three minutes past six o’clock, but those three minutes were usually enough to spell disaster.
