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.The coach pitched and rolled, mimicking the sensations in my stomach, as we entered the busy streets of London.More than once I took out Mr.Rodin’s card, checking the address again.Cheyne Walk.I scanned the neat row of brick houses along the long and narrow cobblestone street.Deven stopped the carriage a short distance from the front of the building.I peered out the window and saw that blocking the entrance was a large carriage.A handsome man, vaguely resembling Mr.Rodin, was assisting a beautiful woman with stark red hair into her seat.Several bags and a trunk lay on the ground as if they were preparing to travel or in the throes of moving.She wore an elegant traveling hat with a large black ostrich plume, the brim shadowing the details of her face.A tap on the opposite window startled me and I turned to find Mr.Rodin, his charming smile greeting me.I unlatched the window, drawing it aside.“Mr.Rodin, my apologies, I didn’t see you.”“Good day, Miss Cartwright.I’m afraid I have some rather poor news of my own.As it turns out, today is not the best of days to meet.My cleaning lady is working today in the studio and—” he glanced over his shoulder “—my brother and his fiancée are leaving today.”His gaze lingered on them for a moment, and I wondered if the woman had been a model.He cleared his throat and looked at me with a bright smile.“Can you meet me at the Globe, say tomorrow night, around seven? I have something I wish to show you.”“Mr.Rodin, I…”“Of course, I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”“No, no, I haven’t.I will be there…yes, I will be there.” I repeated with greater conviction, though not at all sure how I was going to sneak out a second time.“Wonderful, until then, milady.” He bowed, tipping his hat.As I watched him hurry back across the street, a movement from a small balcony above caught my eye, and I saw a woman lean over the ledge, a rug in her hands, shaking out the dirt.She had a mass of blond hair she’d swept up into a loose coil atop her head and from the way her bust shook, with each snap of the rug, it appeared she wore no under-bindings of any sort.She paused and looked down at the carriage for a moment, before she turned her head as if to answer someone and disappeared back inside.“Shall I return home, Miss Cartwright?” From above, Deven called down to me.“Yes, Mr.Mooreland.There has been a slight change in plans.”I heard a snort of laughter, or perhaps it was the horse.Chapter 5I WAS NOT WELL.SINCE LEAVING TOWN, MY STOMACH had been churning to think what would happen if Mr.Rodin changed his mind.By the time we rolled up the farm’s lane, I thought I might lose my stomach.Aunt Perdita opened the door and stepped onto the front porch.She peered into the cab, a look of concern marring her face.“Sara, my dear.What happened? Your face is positively ashen.I hope you didn’t receive bad news from the Barringtons?”She helped me from the carriage and my hand moved to my stomach.“I did not make it as far as the Barringtons.” At least that much was the truth.“I am not feeling well.Perhaps if I rest awhile, I shall be well enough to return tomorrow?”“Of course, dear girl,” she clucked, placing her arm around my shoulder as we walked together to the house.“Shall I fetch your bags, then, miss?”Only I detected the subtle mocking tone in Deven’s voice.“No thank you, Mr.Mooreland, I am confident that by tomorrow I will be able to travel again.” I looked over my shoulder and caught his irritated expression.“Tell me, what is he like, Sara?” Amelia sat on the edge of my bed, having just brought me a cup of tea that Aunt Perdy ordered me to drink.She said the herbs would ease the stomach pain I was having.Pains she suspected were of a womanly nature.I’d never had them before with my monthly, but the thought of my time with Deven pervaded my thoughts and I hoped the two were not related.I put it out of my mind.“Who…Mr.Rodin? Well, I barely know him.” I sipped my tea, breathing deep the honey scent of the chamomile.“No, not Mr.Rodin.” She smiled shyly.“Mr.Mooreland.”“Dev—our Mr.Mooreland?” I choked on my tea and tried not to let complete shock register on my face.“Isn’t he a bit…old for you?”She had a dreamy far-off look in her eye.“He’s two years older than you, which would make him only five years older than me.” She frowned, her lip protruding in a childlike pout.I could not readily determine whether my caution was for her sake or mine, but the idea of the two of them seemed absurd at best.“But Amelia—Mr.Mooreland? There are plenty of younger men out there.Don’t you wish to meet some of them?”“Some of my friends are already betrothed, and to men much older than Mr.Mooreland!”“Wealthy men who will care for them, I suspect?” I posed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]