and tales of far-off lands, charming his way quite blatantly into the beds of more than one woman, and in such a way that years later they still asked Martin when Will was next due home. Martin had been struck dumb by jealousy, but also impressed and even proud that the friend of his childhood had turned into such a man. Will’s next ship had been the Fotheringay, and now Martin thought that leave had probably been the last peaceful time in Will’s life.
“You’re better looking though,” Daisy said, pulling him back to the present, “and that’s what I need.”
“You’re blind and deluded. And I don’t think I could hold up my end of a flirtation if my life depended on it. You cut my hair, I’ll persuade Will to do your bidding. And I’ll make sure he brushes his coat beforehand.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
She ignored his hand and proceeded to comb his hair with a ruthlessness he had not known possible.
“Good God, why are you like this?” he asked. “Do you mean to make my scalp bleed?”
She snorted. “No point in being sweet and gentle.”
Martin, who had not once in his life considered being sweet or gentle, could not disagree. “Well, no, I quite—”
“Have you taken a look at me?”
He craned his head to get a good look. “You’re . . . about sixteen. Yellow hair. Blue eyes. Clear skin. If you quit scowling, I’d say you were quite pretty.”
“Nobody ever accused you of being much of a thinker, did they. If I quit scowling, and came over all sweet and gentle, I’d never have a minute to myself, now, would I?”
Much struck by this logic, Martin could only nod. “Quite.”
Daisy muttered something that sounded like, “Look what happened to my mum,” but before Martin could inquire as to what she meant, she tugged his chin to the side. “Keep your head still,” she snapped.
“You don’t want every beau in Sussex chasing after you. Very wise. That sounds tiresome in the extreme. Perhaps that’s been my secret strategy all along. I’m afraid that my good looks, combined with decent manners, would be very distracting.”
He thought that he heard her laugh, but didn’t dare turn his head to check. She began snipping at his hair with a pair of sewing shears, and he was half convinced she was deliberately marring his appearance until she stopped and shoved the looking glass into his hands. “How’s that?” she asked.
“Huh.” Martin twisted his head to various angles. “That’s really not bad at all. Thank you.”
She proceeded to attack his face with shaving soap and a razor, and it was only fear of having his throat slit that kept him from objecting.
“You could be a valet,” he said, running his fingers over his newly smooth jaw. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Seen my mum do it, haven’t I?”
The cottage door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air. “Oh,” said Will, arrested on the threshold.
“You might consider shutting the door,” Martin suggested.
“Right. Yes,” Will said, and proceeded to shut the door, fumbling with the latch no fewer than three times. Martin sighed. When Will was distracted, he was lucky not to walk off a cliff.
“Daisy was making me presentable.”
“Right,” Will said, staring. “Yes.”
“You have an assignment. You’re going to the Blue Boar tonight and flirting with Daisy in plain view of some young man of hers.”
“She’s a child!”
“Calm down. Nobody’s asking you to touch her. Just bat your pretty eyes a couple of times and do whatever it was you used to do to make the blacksmith’s daughter come over all sweet.”
Will was now a very satisfactory shade of tomato. “I couldn’t—”
“What time, Daisy?” Martin asked.
“Five. Be there for supper and then sort of loiter around afterward.” With that, she swept out of the cottage.
“But I don’t want to—” Will started.
“That was the price of my haircut. I’m selling your virtue. Deal with it. And put on the green coat and a clean shirt. Do our Daisy proud.”
Will was still staring at him as if he had never seen a man with a proper haircut. He brought his hand up to his own thatch of shaggy brown hair. “Maybe I ought to ask Daisy to cut my hair as well.”
“No!” Martin cleared his throat. “I mean, basic grooming would ruin the moody artistic effect.”
Will tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “I’m going to look like a vagrant compared to you.”
“Yes, well, there’s no helping that. This—” he