Page 37 of Meet A Rogue At Midnight
“What about the pieces from the Learmouth excavation?”
“Well, there is an interesting mosaic fragment, depicting a horse race in the Hippodrome.”
“What about the curule chair? Your mother tells me a local furniture maker is assisting with the restoration.”
She blanched. “He’s doing all the work. He refurbished the hinges and saved the wood work in the chair’s back rest. Not a single bead was lost in the relief carving.”
“A craftsman of many years, I understand. Your mother mentioned his shop is a long-established business in Plumtree. Braithwaite Furniture and Sons.”
Was her mother spinning fiction of an old man toiling with her in the tower? Mr. Haggerty didn’t seem to be a jealous man. But she’d never had the chance to determine this about him, and when it came to the male mind, she was woefully uneducated.
“Mr. Braithwaite is talented. His hands are quite…skilled.” She focused on the brilliant skies beyond the glass door certain her cheek burned bright red. Her mind flashed on those skilled hands playing with her nipples, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
There had to be a special ring in Dante’s hell for all the deceptions she’d woven of late. Penning a book in her father’s name, restoring relics as if she were an experienced antiquarian, and now this small ruse about the age of the man she’d been locked away with in her tower.
“I envy Mr. Braithwaite. He must have your confidence. Otherwise you would not have allowed him into your father’s inner sanctum.”
“Inner sanctum?”
“The tower,” he said affably. “Your father never let me inside. He didn’t want me to see a piece until the restoration was complete; otherwise he feared I might decrease my offer if I saw it in a less than perfect state. Your furniture maker must know the depth of your father’s infirmity. Proof of your trust in the man.”
She managed a semblance of a smile. “Indeed.”
Were her shoes sinking in a bog of lies?
Voices blended in the hall. Her mother and Mr. Kendall re-entered the drawing room. This time, they discussed a rare Byzantine coin Mr. Haggerty had added to his personal collection.
“Why don’t you take me to the tower?” Mr. Haggerty asked.
“I couldn’t.” Her brain raced with how to put him off. She couldn’t go back to the tower…not with the blood-smeared sheets for all to see.
His brows shot high. “Couldn’t?”
Her brain raced for an idea, she said the first thing that came to mind.
“My shoes.” She raised her hem a revealing inch, showing lavender silk slippers tied with cream bows.
“Something tells me those are not your typical footwear.”
“Is my fidgeting giving me away?” She let go of her skirts. “Boots would’ve clashed with the angelic appearance.”
“Most assuredly.” He chuckled and formality melted with it. “You are a unique one, Miss Halsey.”
“What gave me away? My discomfort in this hideous gown?” She dragged both palms over her waist. “The design belongs to a girl in the school room.”
His gaze lit with male appraisal, drifting over the length of her, pausing on her high, stuffed bodice before landing on her face again. “When I dress you, it will be in vibrant colors.”
Her hands froze on her stomacher.
The toe of Mr. Haggerty’s shoe disappeared under her hem. He nudged her chin with one finger, the daring touch lingering while he searched her eyes.
“Yes. Bold, autumn shades, I think, with contrast trim and very little lace.” His voice dropped for her ears alone. “And a low, low neckline.”
“Ah.” She swallowed hard. His black eyes could put a woman in a trance. “Such expertise…an unexpected benefit to have a husband know how his wife should dress.”
“I will take pleasure in it.”
“I am a rustic, you know. Plumtree is in my blood. I’ve never cared about Town or about the latest fashions.”
