lavender-frocked old ladies who unabashedly peered down at them. “They’re standing at the second floor window, behind ye.”
Eliza laughed as though she were having a grand time. Taking his arm, she led Magnus to a small bench under the shade and privacy of an oak situated in the center of the courtyard.
“I do not believe we can be observed here,” she told him, flattening her palms to her lap. “Now, will you tell me how much they know?”
“Do ye think me daft, Eliza? Our bargain would be meaningless if yer aunts knew of it.”
It was then he noticed that she was staring at him, blinking like an automaton.
Magnus waved his hand before her face. “Are ye well?”
She swatted his hand away. “Of course. I was merely taken aback by your familiar use of my given name.”
“My, ye are an odd sort, aren’t ye? Ye think nothing of studying a man’s form as though it were a piece of fruit, yet ye’re stunned by my innocent use of yer name.”
Eliza swallowed deeply. “Well, I have not yet given you permission to address me in such a familiar manner.”
Magnus grinned. “I beg yer forgiveness, Miss Merri-weather. Might I use yer given name?”
She glanced warily at him. “I suppose it would be all right. But only in private, mind you. I have my family’s reputation to think of.”
Magnus raised his brow. “Of course ye do.” He glanced up through the verdant leaves to the window where Eliza’s aunts stood and chuckled at what he saw. “I daresay, yer aunts are most resourceful.”
Eliza looked quizzically up at him.
Magnus gestured through the new leaves to the upper window. Two sets of mother-of-pearl opera glasses were trained on them.
Eliza groaned and rested her forehead in her hand. “I do apologize.” She slowly raised her head.
Magnus laughed and waved at Aunt Letitia and Viola. Instead of fluttering to an interior room, as one might expect those caught in the act of spying to do, the two old ladies happily waved back at him.
“No need to apologize,” he told her. “They are most… entertaining.”
The sole door to the courtyard opened and the manservant entered with a large tablet of paper and a wooden case. When he departed, Eliza silently tacked paper to a board from the case, then laid out an array of pencils and charcoals on the small table beside her. She sat down on the chair and looked up at Magnus.
“You may sit over there.” She gestured to the iron garden chair opposite the small table beside her. “Come now. Don’t dawdle.”
“I had no idea ye would wish to begin so soon.”
Eliza stilled and looked him in the eye. “Didn’t you? I thought that was why you were here,” she said. “Turn your head to the right just a bit. That’s it. Now lift your chin slightly.”
Bristling at her order, Magnus shifted uncomfortably.
Eliza set her hands on the gentle slope of her hips. “What is this now? Unaccustomed to taking direction from a woman?”
"Nay. I am unaccustomed to taking orders from most anyone.”
“Oh, I see,
General”
she teased.
“That would be Lieutenant Colonel,” he corrected.
Eliza sucked in the seam of her lips to conceal a grin. “No matter. Although I am not a commissioned officer, as long as you sit in that chair,
I
am in charge.” With a passive face, she snatched up a wedge of charcoal and carefully laid it to the paper.
Magnus chuckled at her game. She never failed to amuse.
With her left hand, Eliza crossed two long brushes and held them at arm’s length in front of him. She squinted one eye, then held the makeshift cross before her page and began to draw with quick sweeping strokes.
“Did ye just wink at me?” Magnus asked.
“No.” Eliza did not seem at all appreciative of his sad attempt at levity. She shot him an overwrought glare, though the smallest hint of a smile curved her lips.
“Might I ask what ye’re doing?”
She positioned the brushes before him once more. “I am blocking your features. I need to
Eliza laughed as though she were having a grand time. Taking his arm, she led Magnus to a small bench under the shade and privacy of an oak situated in the center of the courtyard.
“I do not believe we can be observed here,” she told him, flattening her palms to her lap. “Now, will you tell me how much they know?”
“Do ye think me daft, Eliza? Our bargain would be meaningless if yer aunts knew of it.”
It was then he noticed that she was staring at him, blinking like an automaton.
Magnus waved his hand before her face. “Are ye well?”
She swatted his hand away. “Of course. I was merely taken aback by your familiar use of my given name.”
“My, ye are an odd sort, aren’t ye? Ye think nothing of studying a man’s form as though it were a piece of fruit, yet ye’re stunned by my innocent use of yer name.”
Eliza swallowed deeply. “Well, I have not yet given you permission to address me in such a familiar manner.”
Magnus grinned. “I beg yer forgiveness, Miss Merri-weather. Might I use yer given name?”
She glanced warily at him. “I suppose it would be all right. But only in private, mind you. I have my family’s reputation to think of.”
Magnus raised his brow. “Of course ye do.” He glanced up through the verdant leaves to the window where Eliza’s aunts stood and chuckled at what he saw. “I daresay, yer aunts are most resourceful.”
Eliza looked quizzically up at him.
Magnus gestured through the new leaves to the upper window. Two sets of mother-of-pearl opera glasses were trained on them.
Eliza groaned and rested her forehead in her hand. “I do apologize.” She slowly raised her head.
Magnus laughed and waved at Aunt Letitia and Viola. Instead of fluttering to an interior room, as one might expect those caught in the act of spying to do, the two old ladies happily waved back at him.
“No need to apologize,” he told her. “They are most… entertaining.”
The sole door to the courtyard opened and the manservant entered with a large tablet of paper and a wooden case. When he departed, Eliza silently tacked paper to a board from the case, then laid out an array of pencils and charcoals on the small table beside her. She sat down on the chair and looked up at Magnus.
“You may sit over there.” She gestured to the iron garden chair opposite the small table beside her. “Come now. Don’t dawdle.”
“I had no idea ye would wish to begin so soon.”
Eliza stilled and looked him in the eye. “Didn’t you? I thought that was why you were here,” she said. “Turn your head to the right just a bit. That’s it. Now lift your chin slightly.”
Bristling at her order, Magnus shifted uncomfortably.
Eliza set her hands on the gentle slope of her hips. “What is this now? Unaccustomed to taking direction from a woman?”
"Nay. I am unaccustomed to taking orders from most anyone.”
“Oh, I see,
General”
she teased.
“That would be Lieutenant Colonel,” he corrected.
Eliza sucked in the seam of her lips to conceal a grin. “No matter. Although I am not a commissioned officer, as long as you sit in that chair,
I
am in charge.” With a passive face, she snatched up a wedge of charcoal and carefully laid it to the paper.
Magnus chuckled at her game. She never failed to amuse.
With her left hand, Eliza crossed two long brushes and held them at arm’s length in front of him. She squinted one eye, then held the makeshift cross before her page and began to draw with quick sweeping strokes.
“Did ye just wink at me?” Magnus asked.
“No.” Eliza did not seem at all appreciative of his sad attempt at levity. She shot him an overwrought glare, though the smallest hint of a smile curved her lips.
“Might I ask what ye’re doing?”
She positioned the brushes before him once more. “I am blocking your features. I need to
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