Page 57 of The Moonstone Pirate
She nibbled her lip. “Are you that worried? Has Lord Woodley warned you about a specific danger?”
“Nothing of present concern, child. But that murder took place on his property and remains unsolved, so why take any risks?”
She hopped into the carriage and peered out the window on the ride to Woodley Lodge. The disquieting churning of her stomach never left her. She had a light meal at midday with Deandra and Deandra’s father, hardly eating a bite. Draco had not joined them, a fact once again commented on by all of them.
“He is in the pirate caves again today,” Deandra muttered, even though Imogen had not asked about his whereabouts.
She shrugged. “Oh? Well, he can do whatever he pleases. I’m here to visit you, not him.”
Deandra cast her a dubious look. “You are a terrible liar. Disappointment is written all over your face. Come on, it is time for you to give me an art lesson. What do you think? Do I show promise?”
“You are perhaps the worst student I have ever taught,” Imogen said with a merry laugh. Not that she was trained to teach art, but she did instruct the local villagers from time to time. Men, women, children, anyone who wished to learn. Vicar Trask had organized art classes at his church that she and Aunt Phoebe led. Phoebe was a talented artist in her own right and had taught Imogen everything she knew.
Imogen and Deandra walked out of the house to the Woodley garden, and, as she had done yesterday, Imogen set up her easel and art supplies amid the glorious array of flowers. She did the same for Deandra, helping with her easel, brushes, and pencils.
The lesson had barely started before Deandra’s eyes glazed over and she stopped paying attention.
“Honestly, Deandra. How will you learn anything when you are concentrating on everything but the task before you?”
Deandra set down her pencil and turned to Imogen with a pout. “Why must I draw nothing but circles?”
“Because circles are the most basic tools in drawing.”
Deandra sighed, and then made up an excuse to leave her easel and run inside. “I’ll be right back.”
“But where—”
Too late, Deandra had scampered off muttering something about reminding Mrs. Angel to set out their afternoon tea and cakes on the terrace. This was completely unnecessary. Not only had this been their routine all week long, but Mrs. Angel was one of the most efficient people Imogen had ever met.
Now alone, she set her own brushes and pencils aside.
She and Deandra had placed their easels in the shade, but Imogen now took a seat on a nearby stone bench that was in full sun. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, smiling as the sun warmed her face and the subtle lemon scent of roses wafted in the air.
“Good afternoon, Butterfly,” Draco said, startling her out of her thoughts.
Imogen opened her eyes and scrambled to her feet, smiling at Parrot when he barked a greeting, too. She gave him a loving scratch behind the ears. Now appeased, the dog curled up in a shady spot beneath the stone bench and yawned to indicate he was ready for a nap.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Lazy dog,” he said, tossing the mutt an affectionate grin.
Imogen stared at Draco, wondering how he had managed to sneak up on her without making a sound. Nor had she noticed him walking up the cliff steps. Had he climbed out of the pirate cave using his newly opened, secret escape path? She dared not mention it, since he had yet to forgive her for sneaking into the cave the other day.
“Imogen, need I point out that you are alone again?”
And need she point out his shirt was not properly buttoned? She sighed. “It isn’t my fault. Deandra keeps running inside. I am not purposely trying to irritate you.”
“How hard is it to obey a simple request? Do not be out here alone.” He arched an eyebrow. “I think you ought to stop coming over here.”
She ignored the persistent knot in her stomach because her heart suddenly felt much worse. His words were a knife through her heart.
“You will have to take that up with Deandra.” She tried to keep her voice steady as she struggled to maintain her composure. “She invited me to spend the day here, and I accepted. Is this not her home as much as it is yours? We have become inseparable friends, as you well know.”
“Inseparable spies is what you are. Do not even pretend your coming over here is completely innocent. What else have you found out?”
“Since yesterday? Absolutely nothing,” Imogen insisted. “You are so secretive about everything you do. It is extremely irritating, Draco.”
His lips twitched in an almost smile that she knew would never turn into an actual smile because he was never going to admit he was pleased to see her. His muscles flexed as he raised his arm to rub a hand across the back of his neck.
Dear heaven.
