don’t like to be disturbed while I’m working,” he called back over his shoulder. “Find something to amuse yourself with while I sketch this old wreck.”
“If you don’t like to be disturbed, then why did you bring me?” she asked stubbornly, sitting there with her small, delicate bare feet stretched out.
“Julian, my lad,” Phelan said sadly, “you must learn proper deference if you’re going to remain in your current role.”
“Current role?” she echoed, trying to disguise her nervousness.
“As a servant, my lad,” he said in a soothing voice, amused. “Servants are supposed to be silent and subservient. Never challenging. While I work you might take a walk along the water’s edge and meditate on the error of your ways.”
“You’re very generous, sir,” she said in a dulcet voice, staring angrily at him beneath lowered lids.
He smiled. “You really have no idea, my boy.”
He knew. There was no reason why he should have guessed, and Juliette told herself she was panicking over nothing, but she couldn’t rid herself of the belief that her mysterious new employer, Mr. Philip Ramsey, knew she was unquestionably female.
She’d done nothing to give herself away, of that she was certain. She’d perfected a boy’s walk, part swagger, part stride. She held her narrow shoulders back, even whistledwhen she remembered to, and kept her small chin stuck out at a faintly pugnacious angle.
Indeed, she didn’t really know how to be a woman, at least not the kind of woman he would be used to. She was uncomfortable in dresses, ignorant of most social minutiae, and totally incapable of flirting. After her enforced sojourn with Mark-David Lemur, she found proximity to the majority of the male sex distasteful. She did her best to look and think and act like a boy, and there was no way her new master could guess her secret.
Once more she contemplated leaving. She had come to the port of Hampton Regis for one reason and one reason only. To earn enough money and then book passage on the next ship bound for sunnier climates. She didn’t particularly care where—Greece, Arabia, Egypt, even Italy were all acceptable to her. Some place where she could live on the pittance her diamond-and-pearl earbobs would bring her, some place where she wouldn’t run into the man who called himself her husband.
She put her toes in the icy water, shivering slightly. Even in this heat, the chilly Atlantic waters didn’t warm. Not the way the Mediterranean, the Aegean, the Nile did. She wanted to see those waters again. Only there would she be safe from the man who hunted her. She could disappear into the countryside, blend in with the people, and a starched-up Englishman like Mark-David would be helpless to track her down. Here in England she was far more vulnerable, and each passing day was a danger.
She glanced back at the man who had brought her to this desolate, beautiful stretch of coast. He was leaning against an outcropping of rock, his sketchbook propped on one knee, and he was totally absorbed in his work. Hisdark hair had fallen around his face, and his slightly thin mouth was taut with concentration. Surely if he had any inkling of her secret, he’d hardly bring her to such a secluded spot and then proceed to ignore her.
No, she was getting fanciful. The strain of the past weeks was taking its toll on her. Too much hiding, too much hard work, and not enough food or sleep. And worrying, always worrying, that Lemur would pop out from behind a rock and claim her.
He wouldn’t, of course. He could have no earthly idea where she was. After she’d disappeared from the hotel in London, he’d probably tried to track her to the nearest major port. That was the primary reason she’d chosen Hampton Regis. It was small enough to be relatively unknown, large enough for some of the more modest ships bound for the Mediterranean. If Lemur were to search for her, and undoubtedly he would, he’d concentrate his efforts
“If you don’t like to be disturbed, then why did you bring me?” she asked stubbornly, sitting there with her small, delicate bare feet stretched out.
“Julian, my lad,” Phelan said sadly, “you must learn proper deference if you’re going to remain in your current role.”
“Current role?” she echoed, trying to disguise her nervousness.
“As a servant, my lad,” he said in a soothing voice, amused. “Servants are supposed to be silent and subservient. Never challenging. While I work you might take a walk along the water’s edge and meditate on the error of your ways.”
“You’re very generous, sir,” she said in a dulcet voice, staring angrily at him beneath lowered lids.
He smiled. “You really have no idea, my boy.”
He knew. There was no reason why he should have guessed, and Juliette told herself she was panicking over nothing, but she couldn’t rid herself of the belief that her mysterious new employer, Mr. Philip Ramsey, knew she was unquestionably female.
She’d done nothing to give herself away, of that she was certain. She’d perfected a boy’s walk, part swagger, part stride. She held her narrow shoulders back, even whistledwhen she remembered to, and kept her small chin stuck out at a faintly pugnacious angle.
Indeed, she didn’t really know how to be a woman, at least not the kind of woman he would be used to. She was uncomfortable in dresses, ignorant of most social minutiae, and totally incapable of flirting. After her enforced sojourn with Mark-David Lemur, she found proximity to the majority of the male sex distasteful. She did her best to look and think and act like a boy, and there was no way her new master could guess her secret.
Once more she contemplated leaving. She had come to the port of Hampton Regis for one reason and one reason only. To earn enough money and then book passage on the next ship bound for sunnier climates. She didn’t particularly care where—Greece, Arabia, Egypt, even Italy were all acceptable to her. Some place where she could live on the pittance her diamond-and-pearl earbobs would bring her, some place where she wouldn’t run into the man who called himself her husband.
She put her toes in the icy water, shivering slightly. Even in this heat, the chilly Atlantic waters didn’t warm. Not the way the Mediterranean, the Aegean, the Nile did. She wanted to see those waters again. Only there would she be safe from the man who hunted her. She could disappear into the countryside, blend in with the people, and a starched-up Englishman like Mark-David would be helpless to track her down. Here in England she was far more vulnerable, and each passing day was a danger.
She glanced back at the man who had brought her to this desolate, beautiful stretch of coast. He was leaning against an outcropping of rock, his sketchbook propped on one knee, and he was totally absorbed in his work. Hisdark hair had fallen around his face, and his slightly thin mouth was taut with concentration. Surely if he had any inkling of her secret, he’d hardly bring her to such a secluded spot and then proceed to ignore her.
No, she was getting fanciful. The strain of the past weeks was taking its toll on her. Too much hiding, too much hard work, and not enough food or sleep. And worrying, always worrying, that Lemur would pop out from behind a rock and claim her.
He wouldn’t, of course. He could have no earthly idea where she was. After she’d disappeared from the hotel in London, he’d probably tried to track her to the nearest major port. That was the primary reason she’d chosen Hampton Regis. It was small enough to be relatively unknown, large enough for some of the more modest ships bound for the Mediterranean. If Lemur were to search for her, and undoubtedly he would, he’d concentrate his efforts
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