Silently, he accepted the case, untying the strings that held the sides closed. One by one, he studied the illustrations inside, careful as he turned the large paper sheets with their fine watercolor renderings of birds. "These are your best yet," he pronounced. "Stunning, Grace. Absolutely stunning."
Her cheeks warmed with pleasure. "The chimney swallow turned out best, I think. I would like to have added a bit more green to the mallard, but I suppose he'll do."
Terrence smiled. "He'll more than do. It was my lucky day when we met at that ornithology lecture four summers ago. If not for that fateful introduction, I would likely never have thought of producing a series of illustrated nature books. I have no doubt this new one is going to make us a nice little profit."
Pin money, Grace thought. At least that's what Papa liked to call it, since her earnings never amounted to much more than her quarterly allowance. Nonetheless, the money she received from the publication of her "little watercolors" provided a small reserve for her use. More importantly, the money was hers. All hers. Derived by means of her own skills and efforts.
"We're receiving advanced orders already," Terrence confided as he carefully straightened the group of drawings inside the folio, then retied the strings. "Lord Ast-bury is taking two dozen this time. Told me he plans to give them out as gifts to his hunting friends."
Her lips parted as the implication sank in. "Why, that's dreadful. This book is supposed to be an ornithological reference guide."
"Apparently he and his toff friends don't care about such niceties. They like to study the birds, then go out and shoot them. Of course, what is it you said your cook is serving for dinner tonight? Roast chicken, I believe."
She glared at him for a moment, then released a laugh. "Point taken. Are you certain you won't stay to enjoy the carnage?"
Smiling, he shook his head. "No, but it is tempting. Look now, here is Martha with our tea." Setting the folio aside, he stood and helped the housekeeper with the heavy tray.
///
A crumpet and a slice of meat pie later, Terrence wiped his mouth on his napkin, then laid his plate aside. "So will I see you next Tuesday at the theater? They're doing Midsummer, I think."
Grace returned her teacup to its saucer. "Oh, did I not tell you? I am to go to my aunt Jane's in Bath for a few weeks. Apparently she wrote to Papa asking if I could stay with her. She wants to take the waters and hates the idea of being in the city alone, despite her wide circle of friends. I didn't see any way I could refuse."
"No, nor should you," he agreed, a slight frown on his brows.
"Not to worry," she assured him. "I shall take everything I need to begin work on the flower illustrations. You needn't have any concern that I shall be late in completing the new renderings."
"I know you won't. If there is anyone upon whom I can count, it is you. I will only miss you, that's all."
"Ah." She knew she should not encourage him. Still, he was her friend. "And I you," she said with sincerity. "And I you."
Late the following evening, Jack claimed his release, his body shuddering, as he lay locked inside his mistress's arms. She glided her hands over him, her satisfaction plain. He'd taken care to make sure she peaked first, her cries of satisfaction loud enough to awaken the entire household. Luckily her servants were far too well-trained to react, even if they had noticed.
Striving to recover his breath, he rolled onto his back in the wide, satin-covered bed, unabashedly naked, the sheets and counterpane kicked to the floor long ago.
"Heavens, darling, you do that so-o-o-o-o well," she cooed, reaching out a delicate hand to smooth over his chest. "How soon do you imagine we can do it again?"
He chuckled. "Give me a minute and we'll see."
She smiled, her fingers drifting downward with the obvious intent of helping him along. For a moment, he allowed her to play, his interest only mildly reawakened. Then with a gentle touch, he captured her hand and folded it inside his own. "Philipa," he began, "about the country party next week … "
"Yes?" she said, leaning up so that he had an unobstructed view of her bare breasts and the tendrils of long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders in a most enticing way. "Just think of all the fun we're going to have. I can't wait to sneak into your room. Or would you rather sneak into mine?"
"I am sorry, but there isn't going to be any sneaking at all. At least not with me."
"What do you mean? Of course it will be with you."
He shook his head. "Not this time. I am afraid something else has occurred. I won't be attending the party."
Her smile fell away. "But I don't understand. You always go into the country this time of year."
"This year is different."
Sitting up, he propped himself against the pillows. As he did, he thought about the message he'd received this morning from Danvers advising him about Grace's plans for the remainder of the summer and fall. Considering all the implications, he set another few inches between himself and Philipa.
"I am going to Bath," he stated on a solemn rumble.
A hearty laugh rolled from her bow-shaped, cherry-pink lips. "Bath! As in the city? Oh, you're joshing me. Jack Byron in Bath, that will be the day. I suppose next you're going to tell me you are journeying there for the waters."
He lowered his gaze. "Actually, I'm going there for a bride."
Philipa's green eyes grew wide. "What! You're getting married?"
"So it would appear." Careful to make no mention of names or share the specific details of the agreement he'd struck with Danvers, he confided the basics of his situation to her.
"As you see," he concluded, "it's the only viable solution. I wish I could have found an easier way to tell you this, but the unvarnished truth seemed best."
Sliding from the bed, she retrieved her cream, flowered silk dressing gown from the floor and slipped into it. Tying the fastening at her waist, she turned back. "I can't say I am glad of the news, but I understand. Obviously, it is the prudent choice. I just never envisioned you entering into a marriage of convenience. This girl. What is she like?"
"She's … " He broke off, finding himself oddly reluctant to talk about Grace Danvers. She's interesting, he thought. And unusual, not at all like the women he knew. She was … complex.
Realizing the direction of his thoughts, he brought himself back to the topic at hand. "What does it matter what she's like?" he said in a cool tone. "I am marrying her because it's what I must do. Anything else is irrelevant."
///
"Poor creature," Philipa remarked, strolling around to his side of the bed. "But knowing you, she'll probably fall instantly under your spell and count herself lucky to be your wife, whatever the circumstances. And I am sure, in your way, you'll be kind, even generous, to her."
Shifting her hip, she sat down next to him. "As for me, I know how to be patient. After all, I waited ten long, dreadful years for the death of that lecher my father forced me to wed. At least this girl will be getting a virile man in his prime rather than some dried-up goat, old enough to be her grandfather. Knowing what a fine lover you are, she is fortunate indeed. No woman would object to giving up her maidenhead to you. Would that I could have done so myself."
"Philipa-"
"Shh," she murmured, reaching up to feather her fingers through his hair. "Not to worry. When a suitable amount of time has passed, and you find yourself weary of playing husband, come back to me. You will always be welcome in my bed."
Catching her hand, he brought her palm to his lips for a kiss. "You are too good, do you know that?"
She smiled and shook her head. "Good? There is nothing good about me. Unless you are talking about my abilities in the boudoir. Now, at that, I more than excel." Divesting herself of her dressing gown again, she moved to sit astride his hips. "What do you say to one last tumble before you go? Something to tide you over in the coming days, since Bath is one of the deadliest dull spots on earth."
He smiled and slid his arms around her small, willowy body. As he did, a memory of rich, red hair-Grace's hair-flashed in his mind for reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom.