“I have loved every second,” Amber said with complete honesty.
“Well then, come, come. Give it to me,” the countess said as she waved her hand at Amber’s sketchbook.
What? Oh no! The sketchbook did not show anything of Berlin or Germany. In truth, it didn’t have much at all in the way of portraiture. It was jewelry designs and a few dreams. “No, my lady. Please. I am nothing but a dabbler.”
For the second time that hour, the cane came down with force. Fortunately, Lord Byrn had moved his foot, so he was unharmed. This time, the irritation was directed at Amber.
“Show me, girl. I do not expect you to be Joseph Wright.”
Amber looked desperately at Lord Byrn, and he tried to help. “She is most private about her sketches, Countess.”
“Piffle. Modesty has its place but not right now.” Then she held out her hand, and Amber had no choice but to pass her book over.
“These are new sketches,” she hedged. “Nothing of home.” That was a lie, but a necessary one. She had to explain why all of her sketches were set in London. Then she had to sit there in excruciating silence as the countess paged one by one through her sketches, while Lord Byrn looked over her shoulder.
No one said a word, but their faces were much too expressive. Lord Byrn’s eyebrows rose higher and higher with each page. The countess, however, pursed her lips and frowned as time went on. Amber knew that she had only modest talent with sketches, but she was damned good with jewelry. She had to be. She made the pieces there on the page. The cat cufflinks with diamond eyes and the tiara fashioned to look like ivy with tiny ruby berries. She wasn’t very good with pearls. That was her father’s specialty, but she designed the metal that supported the strands.
Fortunately, many of the sketches showed jewelry on a person. Her best ones were given to her father to show potential customers. The dowager paused a long moment on a sketch of a distinguished woman with a cane sporting a wolf’s head with ruby eyes. Lord Byrn appeared especially interested in a fanciful watercolor sketch of a couple dancing in the middle of a ball. She wore a breathtaking gown of palest blue. Sapphires adorned her ears, wrist, and lay tantalizingly above her décolletage. He was no less stunning, dressed in the latest fashion with a waistcoat that matched her sapphires in color and a cravat pin that looked like a cat leaping onto a pearl.
Finally, the countess finished her perusal. She looked up and spoke with a dry tone. “Well, I can certainly see where your interest lies. Gemstones do hold a particular fascination for many women.” Her finger tapped on an intricate bracelet design of two dogs with garnet collars. They looked like they were running around the woman’s wrist, and Amber thought it one of her best designs. Too bad she was supposed to be interested in portraiture.
“They’re just silly sketches,” Amber said.
“They’re extraordinary,” Lord Byrn said, and she heard true admiration in his tone.
“Very well,” the countess intoned as she pushed to her feet.
Both Lord Byrn and Amber echoed her movement, but he was the one who spoke. “We can see the portrait now? That would be a delightful cap to the afternoon.”
“Now?” the countess said, outrage in her tone. “Of course not. I can’t spend my entire day dilly-dallying around with you. You may see the portrait with everyone else, at my granddaughter’s come out ball.” She turned a piercing look on Lord Byrn. “I shall send Miss Gohar’s invitation to your home, I presume?”
Lord Byrn blinked. “Er, no, actually. She is staying with my sister, Lady Dunnamore. Diana needed the companionship more than my mother.”
The countess appeared to think on that a moment, then nodded. “Quite right. Quite right, indeed.” Then she smiled at Amber. “I look forward to seeing you dance at the ball. I think you will find it exhilarating, just as I did at your age.”
Meanwhile, Amber had just realized the countess expected her to attend her ball. Which made absolute sense given that she’d claimed to be in London specifically to attend parties and catch a husband. Which was wonderful! Except, of course, there was no way she could possibly attend. For one, Lord Byrn would never allow it. Nobs didn’t allow common laborers into their events. And though she wasn’t exactly a farmhand, she certainly wasn’t exalted enough to attend.
“My lady,” she breathed. “You are too kind.” Then she added a slight cough because she was thinking ahead. Lord Byrn would need a reason for her not to attend, and a cold was as good as any.
“Nonsense,” the dowager said as she herded them to the front door. “Now, off you go. Pick out a pretty dress for tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night? Oh, if only she could! But she knew her place, and it wasn’t at the a come out ball. “If I could look at the painting now,” she pressed. “I would be able to focus more on the dancing tomorrow.”
“Enough modesty!” the countess said as she slammed down her cane hard enough that the sound reverberated through the house. “I will see you tomorrow night!”
And that was the end of that. In fact, the butler already had the front door open, and a footman was holding out Lord Byrn’s hat.
Chapter Four
Elliott stepped into the afternoon sunshine with his mind whirling. The details involved in maintaining their one little lie had just become cumbersome. He’d have to contact his sister and get her cooperation. Then there was the dress and the transportation, not to mention dancing instruction, and—oh hell—he’d have to get his mother to support the lie as well. She did have an old school friend in Germany. That was lucky—
Then Miss Gold let out a prodigious sneeze. It was loud, and it doubled her over on the steps.
“All you all right?” He supported her elbow as she straightened up and flashed an embarrassed smile behind her at the butler who had frozen with the door half shut.
“I do apologize. I hope I’m not getting ill.” She turned and—leaning heavily on Elliott—made her way down the steps.
He supported her because that was what a gentleman was supposed to do. And he should not appreciate the delight of having her breasts pressed against his side or the view he had of them beneath her demure gown. But he was a man, and so he did. And while he was distracted, she looked up at him and spoke under her breath.
“No need to worry, my lord. Tomorrow night, you can claim I am laid low by a fever.”
He had no intention of doing that. He’d seen how eagerly she’d listened to the tale of the countess’s first ball. He had seen her desires drawn on the pages of her sketchbook. Elliott had sisters. He knew how much they dreamed of dancing in the arms of a handsome man. Certainly, he could give Miss Gold that. Indeed, it would give him great pleasure to see her attend a ball. But he also knew that she had pride, and so he found another excuse to give her the gift.
“Who would sketch the jewelry from the portrait?”
“Surely you are capable of that,” she said as he handed her up into the phaeton.
He chuckled. “I assure you, I am not.”
“One of your sisters, then?”
“Not likely. Diana sings beautifully, but her handwriting is appalling. And Gwen…” He shook his head. “Gwen reads. She does not sketch.”