“Really, Edward. How can you know that?”
How could he? How could he indeed? He kissed her brow. “Trust me. He would. Would you be interested in that kind of work?”
“For seventy guineas? How could I say no? Oh, I would be able to repay— Oh. Yes, Edward. Heavens yes.”
“Then shall I set an interview with Lord Hedon?”
“I shall do up some sketches straightaway. Shall I draw Asha’s story, or something else?
“Asha’s story?” He chuckled. “It is already illustrated.”
She snorted. “Yes, but as I was reading it, I realized there were so many places they should have added a plate. It was rather annoying.”
He could only imagine. “Clever girl. Yes. Draw those—but add some of your own creation too. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” She disentangled herself and began hunting for her frock.
“Where are you going?”
“Surely you don’t expect me to work with you looking over my shoulder?”
She laughed at his pout.
And, in the end, she did. Work with him looking over her shoulder. And whispering naughty suggestions in her ear.
It wasn’t long before they were otherwise engaged altogether.
* * * * *
Her appointment with Lord Hedon was scheduled at the publisher’s office. The author valued his privacy, Edward explained, and would prefer not to meet at his home. Kaitlin tried very hard not to shake as the carriage rolled through the city. She clutched her sketches to her chest.
Oh, please, she thought, let him like them.
The amount of money she could make would pay off Callum’s debt to the McCloud and free her from fear. It would also keep her quite nicely, should the work continue. She could afford some rooms in a decent part of town, food and clothes. Everything she needed.
She would miss living with Violet, but she would marry some day and Kaitlin could hardly tag along. And, of course, she would miss Edward. But surely he would tire of her soon.
It was much better to be able to take care of herself. The prospect of making a living by the dint of her own hand, and doing something she enjoyed, was exciting.
Of course, as Lord Hedon’s illustrator, she would be completely ruined, but she could see advantages to that as well.
Oh please let him like them.
She wished Edward could have come with her, but he’d had another appointment. He’d kissed her and wished her luck and made her promise to tell him all about it that evening at dinner.
The coach rolled to a stop. Kaitlin nearly bounded out, but forced herself to wait for John Coachman to descend from the box, open the door, let down the steps and hand her out. She sucked in a breath, steadying her nerves, and tipped back her head, sailing into the Crescent Moon publishing offices as though she owned the place.
Sometimes it paid to be fearless.
Or pretend to be.
A short, squat man with enormous protruding eyes and a pair of spectacles perched on a bulbous nose leapt up as she entered. He scuttled sideways around the desk like a crab, lapping at his thick lips as though they tasted good. They shimmered with a glistening sheen.
What this he? Lord Hedon? He didn’t look so very lordly.
“Hullo,” she said. “I am Kaitlin MacAllister.”
“Mr. Dithers. William Dithers. Publisher.” His eyes flicked to her and away and then everywhere but at her.
Ah. Not Lord Hedon. She didn’t know why relief trickled through her.
“Hullo, Mr. Dithers. I have an appointment with—”
“Lord Hedon. You have an appointment with Lord Hedon.” His hands fluttered at his side as though they could not be kept still. “He’s waiting in my office. But—”
“But?”
He drew in a wheezing breath. “Please, miss. Before I take you in, I must prepare you.”
My. That was ominous.
“Prepare me?”
He smoothed his hair. Rubbed his chin. “Lord Hedon is somewhat…eccentric. Brilliant writer. Brilliant. Sells lots of books. Loads of them really. But very eccentric.”
Kaitlin did not care how peculiar Lord Hedon was. She wanted this job. “I understand.”
“He values his privacy above all else.”
She nodded. Edward had told her as much.
“He must guard his true identity.”
“Naturally.”
“When you meet with him, he will be wearing a disguise.” This last bit, he whispered in a lurid fashion. “I did mention he was eccentric?”
“You did.”
“I do not want you to be alarmed.”
“I appreciate that.”
“He can be…ominous.”
“Thank you.”
Mr. Dithers glanced around the room, blinking several times in succession.
She cleared her throat. “May I see him now?”