To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,20

so good to his siblings, even the young ones.”

“He has enough of them to be sure,” de Rouvroy laughed without shame. “Alas for him and my sweet Agathe, there were only they two for so long, but now…”

On cue, several small voices cried out in delight from somewhere else in the house, drawing fond smiles from their parents. This was followed by a crash of some sort, followed by loud laughter and the thundering of many small feet.

Hal exhaled slowly and turned to look at her husband, wide-eyed and contrite.

He silently met her eyes, his own unreadable, and quietly sipped his tea.

Chapter Five

There was much to be said for the benefits and positive influence of a night of excellent rest and quiet solitude upon a body riddled with fatigue and exhaustion. John couldn’t recall what they were, having not had such in some time, but he did hope that this evening would allow him to reacquaint himself with the sensation, if not its privileges.

At the moment, however, he was allowing a sallow-faced servant to act as his valet. No doubt he was desperate to prove himself to le baron so that he might one day have the hope of serving him as valet rather than attending on the few guests who might come.

John could not imagine a family with as many children as the baron and his wife had actually entertaining on a particularly regular basis.

If only John could give the lad some work worth demonstrating to his master.

Unfortunately, he didn’t care about cravats or waistcoats or any such thing, and until he and Hal ventured out to the modiste who had all of their finery, and no doubt much of their intelligence from the Shopkeepers, there would be very little of interest for Leys to do.

“Would monsieur like for me to fetch a pin for ze cravat? Pearl would well suit, or perhaps emerald?” Leys asked as he fussed again.

John shook his head once. “No thank you, Leys.” He craned his head as he examined his appearance in the looking glass, grateful he didn’t own anything so ridiculous as what the valet was suggesting.

He caught the disappointment in the lad’s face, and a twinge of guilt flared in the pit of his stomach.

“After a long day of travel,” John went on, as though he were continuing a thought rather than adding one, “I have no energy to attempt finery. The rest of our belongings shall be fetched tomorrow, I believe, and then I shall require much of your opinion, taste, and skills to ensure I do not embarrass myself or my wife among Paris society.”

The brightening of his erstwhile valet’s countenance did little to remove the guilt swirling in John’s gut, and instead added unto it a sickening feeling of dread that was entirely selfish.

“Oui, monsieur. Merci.” Leys bowed too deeply for John’s status and practically bounced out of the room.

Lovely. Now John would be turned into a peacock even if Tilda had managed some restraint in her selections.

Muttering under his breath, he moved to the side door of his bedchamber and pushed into the sitting room that connected his rooms to Hal’s.

“Hal!” he called, not bothering to pretend at politeness here in their rooms. Not when he was this tired and this irritable. “Hal!”

“What?” she replied in a sharp tone from behind the door. “Gracious, Pratt, I’m barely presentable and about to rip my hair out, what do you want?”

He bit back a snarl and pounded his fist on the door.

“What?” she hollered back, her voice seeming to crack with irritation. “Come in, for pity’s sake!”

Rolling his eyes, John pushed open the door and strode in, pausing a step only slightly when he caught sight of the woman within.

Hal had changed into a gown fit for a ballroom in London, the shade that of palest green, a string of pearls wound around her neck, and while he would doubt the ladies of London would have envied her gown, outdated though it surely was, he’d be damned if he’d find a fault in it. Her golden hair was braided, curled, and piled up in a style he’d never seen anywhere before, but it suited her, and it suited her well.

Very well.

“What?” Hal barked for the third time, drawing his attention to her face, where a scowl sat as prominently as her hair upon her.

He blinked and forced his expression into something fairly bland. “Let’s get this over with. I haven’t slept nearly long enough to be in a mood