unable to occupy herself without Simon, Agatha ventured into the kitchen. Sarah Cook, queen of her small domain, soon sent Agatha on her way with a sweet bun and a pointed hint. Pearson also had the household well in hand, so Agatha wasn't needed there, either.
She could write to her housekeeper back at Appleby. Surely there were some instructions she'd forgotten to offer Mrs. Bell as to the running of things.
No, to be honest, there was little she could tell her. Late spring was the easiest time of year in Lancashire. The apples were mere green marbles yet, and the sheep had lambed in early spring and had been sheared a month past.
Not that she was eager to return her mind to the tedium that had been hers for years. When the time came to tend Appleby once more, she would. However, the longer she could go without counting lambs or casks of cider, the better.
She'd always been content enough with country life before she'd come to London, although perhaps not entirely happy. She had secretly bemoaned her own restless nature and had done her best to suppress it. Papa had depended on her to see to the day-to-day things—and now Jamie did as well.
Jamie wasn't precisely neglectful of her, but he didn't visit as much as she would have liked. Instead she had to satisfy her need for family contact through his faithful correspondence.
Perhaps she needed children. She liked them very much, and the act of holding a babe had lately brought her near to tears of longing, yet Agatha couldn't think of a single man in Appleby she would want to wed.
Certainly not Repulsive Reggie. Not for his title, not for his lands, not even to stay close to her home. Agatha shuddered even now to think of his groping hands and the way his panting breath had felt on her face.
Forcing her mind back to the present, Agatha shook off the past. She had spent far too much of her life dreading him, certain that he was waiting for another chance to have her in his power. Besides, she had a chimneysweep to train.
And wasn't he coming along splendidly? There was much satisfaction to be found in helping someone achieve his potential. Perhaps she was meant to teach, for she affirmed privately that she had considerable natural skill. Just look what she had done with the man in a few short days!
Of course, she must allow him a certain amount of credit. He certainly was a lovely bundle of raw material. Those eyes… and that physique. Such long legs, and the way that the tails of his coat fell just so over his muscular…
"Goodness, it's become warm in here," Agatha muttered to herself, fanning her face restlessly.
As she went to confer with Button over the best use of Simon's new wardrobe, Agatha wondered why it should be that feeling Simon's hard body pressed to hers had felt nothing like being pinned by Reggie's vile weight.
----
Chapter Six
The evening of the supper dance finally came around. Agatha was pacing again. How many miles had she paced since all this had begun? Though the fire burned brightly in the grate, she rubbed her bare arms against a chill.
Her gown lay on the bed, but she didn't really wish to put it on.
If she dressed, then she would have to leave. If she left, she would have to go to Winchell's. And if she went to Winchell's, her lies would ultimately be exposed in a most public and embarrassing way.
Not that her pride mattered precisely, but going home would be bad enough. Going home in shame would only be worse.
Stopping before the gown, Agatha squinted at the rich green satin, picturing it in her mind against Lady Winchell's elegant apparel. Well, it would have to do. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought of needing much fine dress when she'd left Appleby.
The green was really the only thing she had. Not that anything she had left behind would have been any better. Spending all her life in the country hadn't prepared her wardrobe for the elegant competition of London fashion.
Still, the fabric was fine enough, and she had
She could write to her housekeeper back at Appleby. Surely there were some instructions she'd forgotten to offer Mrs. Bell as to the running of things.
No, to be honest, there was little she could tell her. Late spring was the easiest time of year in Lancashire. The apples were mere green marbles yet, and the sheep had lambed in early spring and had been sheared a month past.
Not that she was eager to return her mind to the tedium that had been hers for years. When the time came to tend Appleby once more, she would. However, the longer she could go without counting lambs or casks of cider, the better.
She'd always been content enough with country life before she'd come to London, although perhaps not entirely happy. She had secretly bemoaned her own restless nature and had done her best to suppress it. Papa had depended on her to see to the day-to-day things—and now Jamie did as well.
Jamie wasn't precisely neglectful of her, but he didn't visit as much as she would have liked. Instead she had to satisfy her need for family contact through his faithful correspondence.
Perhaps she needed children. She liked them very much, and the act of holding a babe had lately brought her near to tears of longing, yet Agatha couldn't think of a single man in Appleby she would want to wed.
Certainly not Repulsive Reggie. Not for his title, not for his lands, not even to stay close to her home. Agatha shuddered even now to think of his groping hands and the way his panting breath had felt on her face.
Forcing her mind back to the present, Agatha shook off the past. She had spent far too much of her life dreading him, certain that he was waiting for another chance to have her in his power. Besides, she had a chimneysweep to train.
And wasn't he coming along splendidly? There was much satisfaction to be found in helping someone achieve his potential. Perhaps she was meant to teach, for she affirmed privately that she had considerable natural skill. Just look what she had done with the man in a few short days!
Of course, she must allow him a certain amount of credit. He certainly was a lovely bundle of raw material. Those eyes… and that physique. Such long legs, and the way that the tails of his coat fell just so over his muscular…
"Goodness, it's become warm in here," Agatha muttered to herself, fanning her face restlessly.
As she went to confer with Button over the best use of Simon's new wardrobe, Agatha wondered why it should be that feeling Simon's hard body pressed to hers had felt nothing like being pinned by Reggie's vile weight.
----
Chapter Six
The evening of the supper dance finally came around. Agatha was pacing again. How many miles had she paced since all this had begun? Though the fire burned brightly in the grate, she rubbed her bare arms against a chill.
Her gown lay on the bed, but she didn't really wish to put it on.
If she dressed, then she would have to leave. If she left, she would have to go to Winchell's. And if she went to Winchell's, her lies would ultimately be exposed in a most public and embarrassing way.
Not that her pride mattered precisely, but going home would be bad enough. Going home in shame would only be worse.
Stopping before the gown, Agatha squinted at the rich green satin, picturing it in her mind against Lady Winchell's elegant apparel. Well, it would have to do. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought of needing much fine dress when she'd left Appleby.
The green was really the only thing she had. Not that anything she had left behind would have been any better. Spending all her life in the country hadn't prepared her wardrobe for the elegant competition of London fashion.
Still, the fabric was fine enough, and she had
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