blackguard?
Mrs Lisle seemed utterly unsuspecting of the villain she regarded as an intimate friend of the family. Intimate, ha! Ought Wynn to warn her?
Suddenly recognizing his ruminations as the beginning of a Gothic plot, Wynn laughed aloud. However he started out, everything turned to melodrama, which was precisely why he needed Prometheus’s assistance. Doubtless the fellow was perfectly inoffensive, and it made no difference to Wynn which of the Lisle sisters he preferred.
“All very well for you to laugh,” Chubby said accusingly. “You ain’t in love.”
“Thank heaven!” said Wynn.
Sweetbriar Cottage came into sight just as a pale wash of sunlight slithered between the clouds. In the beech hedge, still hung with last year’s sere leaves, glossy brown buds swelled with promise. A wren, already nest-building, chattered in noisy annoyance as the gentlemen approached. Pushing open the white gate, Wynn saw that several bright yellow crocuses had burst into bloom overnight.
“Cheer up,” he said, “Spring is on its way. At least once Miss Kitty’s in London you’ll be able to see her.”
Chubby brightened. “That’s right. I couldn’t very well keep popping down here, could I? I’ll make sure to get their direction in Town before we leave.”
The maid ushered them into the small parlour. By daylight, without a crowd of people, Wynn saw how shabby it was. Polished wood gleamed, but the upholstery stuffs, once patterned, had faded to a nearly uniform murky rose. A colourful hooked rug on the floor all too obviously hid a worn spot in the threadbare carpet.
All in all, it reminded him of the rectory where he grew up. He himself had been quite a dab at hooking a rug.
Mrs Lisle looked up from her needlework with a smile, a greeting, and an invitation to be seated. Bowing, Wynn looked questioningly at Miss Lisle, who stood by the window as if she had been watching for their arrival.
Reluctance in every line of her slender figure, she came forward and sat down, thus allowing the gentlemen to take their seats.
“Has Prometheus reached a decision, ma’am?” Wynn asked Mrs Lisle eagerly.
“Yes, I have a decision to pass on to you. I hope you will not take it amiss.”
His spirits sinking, Wynn glanced around the room, though he knew quite well no stranger was there. “He is not here. It is a negative I suppose.”
“On the contrary. Prometheus is willing to help you.”
“He is coming?” Wynn started up. “Or does he wish me to go to him? How I look forward to meeting him!”
“I fear you will be disappointed. I am not permitted to introduce you. Prometheus wishes to remain incognito and to work with you, as with Mr Cobbett, entirely through my daughter.” Mrs Lisle smiled slightly at Wynn’s astonishment. “Pippa was used to help her papa, you know. She is quite competent to...to act as intermediary, let us say.”
Wynn turned to Pippa. “Miss Lisle, far be it from me to doubt your competence. I hate to be instrumental in placing such a burden on your shoulders. You must have better things to do with your time.”
“No.” She shook her head, a hint of irony in the quirk of her lips. “What could be better than helping to forward Papa’s favourite causes? But before you rejoice, wait until you have heard what further conditions Prometheus has set, what payment is to be exacted.”
“I am willing to pay any reasonable sum, ma’am,” Wynn assured Mrs Lisle, “but...conditions?”
For the first time in their admittedly brief acquaintance, the widow looked a trifle discomposed. “The payment is not in money,” she said with an air of dogged determination. “You must understand, Prometheus was my husband’s pupil and intimate associate, and remains closely concerned with the family. The recompense required for assisting you is that you provide an entrée into the best Society for Kitty and Pippa.”
If Wynn was startled, so was
Mrs Lisle seemed utterly unsuspecting of the villain she regarded as an intimate friend of the family. Intimate, ha! Ought Wynn to warn her?
Suddenly recognizing his ruminations as the beginning of a Gothic plot, Wynn laughed aloud. However he started out, everything turned to melodrama, which was precisely why he needed Prometheus’s assistance. Doubtless the fellow was perfectly inoffensive, and it made no difference to Wynn which of the Lisle sisters he preferred.
“All very well for you to laugh,” Chubby said accusingly. “You ain’t in love.”
“Thank heaven!” said Wynn.
Sweetbriar Cottage came into sight just as a pale wash of sunlight slithered between the clouds. In the beech hedge, still hung with last year’s sere leaves, glossy brown buds swelled with promise. A wren, already nest-building, chattered in noisy annoyance as the gentlemen approached. Pushing open the white gate, Wynn saw that several bright yellow crocuses had burst into bloom overnight.
“Cheer up,” he said, “Spring is on its way. At least once Miss Kitty’s in London you’ll be able to see her.”
Chubby brightened. “That’s right. I couldn’t very well keep popping down here, could I? I’ll make sure to get their direction in Town before we leave.”
The maid ushered them into the small parlour. By daylight, without a crowd of people, Wynn saw how shabby it was. Polished wood gleamed, but the upholstery stuffs, once patterned, had faded to a nearly uniform murky rose. A colourful hooked rug on the floor all too obviously hid a worn spot in the threadbare carpet.
All in all, it reminded him of the rectory where he grew up. He himself had been quite a dab at hooking a rug.
Mrs Lisle looked up from her needlework with a smile, a greeting, and an invitation to be seated. Bowing, Wynn looked questioningly at Miss Lisle, who stood by the window as if she had been watching for their arrival.
Reluctance in every line of her slender figure, she came forward and sat down, thus allowing the gentlemen to take their seats.
“Has Prometheus reached a decision, ma’am?” Wynn asked Mrs Lisle eagerly.
“Yes, I have a decision to pass on to you. I hope you will not take it amiss.”
His spirits sinking, Wynn glanced around the room, though he knew quite well no stranger was there. “He is not here. It is a negative I suppose.”
“On the contrary. Prometheus is willing to help you.”
“He is coming?” Wynn started up. “Or does he wish me to go to him? How I look forward to meeting him!”
“I fear you will be disappointed. I am not permitted to introduce you. Prometheus wishes to remain incognito and to work with you, as with Mr Cobbett, entirely through my daughter.” Mrs Lisle smiled slightly at Wynn’s astonishment. “Pippa was used to help her papa, you know. She is quite competent to...to act as intermediary, let us say.”
Wynn turned to Pippa. “Miss Lisle, far be it from me to doubt your competence. I hate to be instrumental in placing such a burden on your shoulders. You must have better things to do with your time.”
“No.” She shook her head, a hint of irony in the quirk of her lips. “What could be better than helping to forward Papa’s favourite causes? But before you rejoice, wait until you have heard what further conditions Prometheus has set, what payment is to be exacted.”
“I am willing to pay any reasonable sum, ma’am,” Wynn assured Mrs Lisle, “but...conditions?”
For the first time in their admittedly brief acquaintance, the widow looked a trifle discomposed. “The payment is not in money,” she said with an air of dogged determination. “You must understand, Prometheus was my husband’s pupil and intimate associate, and remains closely concerned with the family. The recompense required for assisting you is that you provide an entrée into the best Society for Kitty and Pippa.”
If Wynn was startled, so was