morning, Miss Lisle, Miss Kitty.”
“Oh, it is you,” said Miss Lisle with relief. “I just shoved your papers into the drawer in case....” She stopped, her cheeks tinged with pink, and fished the manuscript out of the desk drawer.
Wynn pulled a face. “Is it so awful that I shall be utterly mortified should anyone else read it?”
“Not at all!” she disclaimed, then bit her lip, her changeable hazel eyes dancing.
She had most expressive eyes, Wynn noted, even as he said with a rueful shake of his head, “I see my rough draught amuses you.”
“I am sorry,” she said guiltily.
“Don’t apologize! Chubb’s reaction was exactly the same.”
“I beg your pardon,” Miss Kitty put in, “but if you two mean to discuss the speech, I shall leave you to it. Remember, Pippa, Mama expects you to go with us this afternoon.” She tripped out, closing the door behind her.
Wynn hesitated, undecided whether to open the door again for propriety’s sake. Everyone knew he and Miss Lisle had business together; everyone knew there was no more intimate association between them; and it would look so pointed. He left the door closed, pulled up a chair, and sat down beside the writing table.
“I’m afraid I have kept you from some outing this morning.”
“One I gladly missed, but I must go with Mama and Kitty to the shops after luncheon, to buy dress materials. It will not delay things much, though I have not quite finished reading.”
“My dear Miss Lisle, I realize the Season is far more important to you than my affairs can possibly be.” He paused, with an enquiring look, as she opened her mouth. However, she closed it again firmly, rather tight-lipped. “Believe me, I intend no irony. I am eternally grateful for your help.”
Sensitive lips relaxed in a quirk. “You too! Bina tries to make me believe we are doing her a favour, when it must be plain to the meanest intelligence how deeply indebted to her we are.”
“I’m sure she will be as relieved as I if you will agree to cry quits! My bargain with Prometheus requires that you enjoy a Season, and believe me I don’t wish to deprive you of any of its pleasures, shopping included. Besides, there’s no knowing when I may be able to give the speech,” he added with a smile.
She looked down, long, dark lashes veiling her eyes in apparent discomposure, to Wynn’s puzzlement. In another female he might suspect coyness, but Miss Lisle seemed a stranger to the art of coquetry.
“No date has been set?” she said. “I forgot to ask.”
“I haven’t yet approached Lord Eldon, the Lord Chancellor, not being sure when I shall be prepared. So you may tell Prometheus I am in no great haste, though I hope this session of Parliament will be possible.”
“With Mr Cobbett gone to America, there will be no articles to write. Though other matters may intervene,” she added hurriedly. “There should be plenty of time before the end of this session, but I can give you no assurances as to how long it will take.”
“It depends upon how busy Prometheus is, of course, and upon how much work there is to do.” Wynn gestured at the pile of papers and made a show of bracing himself. “Be honest, is it truly dreadful?”
“By no means. Your points are well-ordered and well-argued—insofar as I may presume to judge.”
“It’s the embellishments, isn’t it? Meretricious metaphors and fanciful figures of speech, that’s where my troubles lie. So you will send Prometheus the unadorned version, to be ornamented with genuine pearls in place of my artificial roses.”
Deliberately sought, her laugh delighted him. “Your roses are not all artificial. Rather, they are rose-bushes, sadly in need of pruning. I am sure Prometheus will agree, it will be much better to take your bushes as a starting point and keep what blooms can be saved.”
“Watered with my tears! I own I should be glad to preserve a few.”
“I
“Oh, it is you,” said Miss Lisle with relief. “I just shoved your papers into the drawer in case....” She stopped, her cheeks tinged with pink, and fished the manuscript out of the desk drawer.
Wynn pulled a face. “Is it so awful that I shall be utterly mortified should anyone else read it?”
“Not at all!” she disclaimed, then bit her lip, her changeable hazel eyes dancing.
She had most expressive eyes, Wynn noted, even as he said with a rueful shake of his head, “I see my rough draught amuses you.”
“I am sorry,” she said guiltily.
“Don’t apologize! Chubb’s reaction was exactly the same.”
“I beg your pardon,” Miss Kitty put in, “but if you two mean to discuss the speech, I shall leave you to it. Remember, Pippa, Mama expects you to go with us this afternoon.” She tripped out, closing the door behind her.
Wynn hesitated, undecided whether to open the door again for propriety’s sake. Everyone knew he and Miss Lisle had business together; everyone knew there was no more intimate association between them; and it would look so pointed. He left the door closed, pulled up a chair, and sat down beside the writing table.
“I’m afraid I have kept you from some outing this morning.”
“One I gladly missed, but I must go with Mama and Kitty to the shops after luncheon, to buy dress materials. It will not delay things much, though I have not quite finished reading.”
“My dear Miss Lisle, I realize the Season is far more important to you than my affairs can possibly be.” He paused, with an enquiring look, as she opened her mouth. However, she closed it again firmly, rather tight-lipped. “Believe me, I intend no irony. I am eternally grateful for your help.”
Sensitive lips relaxed in a quirk. “You too! Bina tries to make me believe we are doing her a favour, when it must be plain to the meanest intelligence how deeply indebted to her we are.”
“I’m sure she will be as relieved as I if you will agree to cry quits! My bargain with Prometheus requires that you enjoy a Season, and believe me I don’t wish to deprive you of any of its pleasures, shopping included. Besides, there’s no knowing when I may be able to give the speech,” he added with a smile.
She looked down, long, dark lashes veiling her eyes in apparent discomposure, to Wynn’s puzzlement. In another female he might suspect coyness, but Miss Lisle seemed a stranger to the art of coquetry.
“No date has been set?” she said. “I forgot to ask.”
“I haven’t yet approached Lord Eldon, the Lord Chancellor, not being sure when I shall be prepared. So you may tell Prometheus I am in no great haste, though I hope this session of Parliament will be possible.”
“With Mr Cobbett gone to America, there will be no articles to write. Though other matters may intervene,” she added hurriedly. “There should be plenty of time before the end of this session, but I can give you no assurances as to how long it will take.”
“It depends upon how busy Prometheus is, of course, and upon how much work there is to do.” Wynn gestured at the pile of papers and made a show of bracing himself. “Be honest, is it truly dreadful?”
“By no means. Your points are well-ordered and well-argued—insofar as I may presume to judge.”
“It’s the embellishments, isn’t it? Meretricious metaphors and fanciful figures of speech, that’s where my troubles lie. So you will send Prometheus the unadorned version, to be ornamented with genuine pearls in place of my artificial roses.”
Deliberately sought, her laugh delighted him. “Your roses are not all artificial. Rather, they are rose-bushes, sadly in need of pruning. I am sure Prometheus will agree, it will be much better to take your bushes as a starting point and keep what blooms can be saved.”
“Watered with my tears! I own I should be glad to preserve a few.”
“I
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