Carola Dunn by The Fortune-Hunters Page B

you have no drawing room on this floor.”
    “That’s because drawing rooms are for ladies,” Nathan told her, “and gentlemen don’t invite females to their hunting boxes. Or at least, only...”
    He broke off, and Jessica saw Matthew Walsingham give him a warning glance. She looked from one to the other with interest.
    “Only?”
    “Never mind!” said her brother hastily, and their guest diverted her to a discussion of his ideas for the servants’ quarters.
    “Only demimondaines,” Miss Tibbett whispered to her a moment later, when Mr. Walsingham was explaining something to Nathan.
    Jessica grinned at her. “That,” she said softly, “was perfectly obvious.”
    Tibby shook her head in reproof.
    At last they had studied and discussed every aspect of Lord Ilfracombe’s hunting box. Mr. Walsingham collected his papers, leaving the sheet with the elevation for Jessica to copy.
    “For an amateur, you have gone to a lot of trouble over this,” she remarked, ringing for the tea tray.
    “If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” He looked oddly self-conscious as he uttered this cliché. “Besides, Ilfracombe is a good friend of mine.”
    They went through to the drawing room for tea. Then Matthew Walsingham took his leave and the others accompanied him into the hall. Tad opened the front door. The evening mist from the river was creeping up the street like a housebreaker, peering in at ground floor windows and sneaking down area steps.
    “I shall walk with you,” said Jessica impulsively. “I need some fresh air.” She stepped out.
    “Jessica, your bonnet!” protested Miss Tibbett.
    She waved dismissively. “I’m only going a hundred yards.” She set off, and Matthew hurried after her. They walked side by side through the cool, damp night, not touching, not speaking.
    “Tad, take a lantern and light the way,” Nathan ordered, although between street lamps and house lights there was no dearth of illumination.
    The footman grabbed a lantern from a hook by the door and lit it from a candle on the hall table.
    Glancing back, Matthew saw him following, and beyond him the bright rectangle of the doorway of Number 15, with two watching figures silhouetted. He grinned to himself. Jessica’s independent spirit was not to be curbed by brother or aunt.
    They reached his house and he turned towards her to say good night. Beads of mist glistened in her moon-pale hair, haloing her shadowed face. Suddenly he wanted to kiss her—and only the footman’s presence stopped him.
    But after all, that was undoubtedly what Tad was there for.
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
    Matthew woke the next morning to a rainy day, the first since his arrival in Bath. After breakfast he settled down to design a heating system for Lord Ilfracombe’s hunting box. Most of the work on his plans had been done while he was confined to bed by his mangled leg. Ilfracombe had liked what he had seen and had encouraged him to finish the project. Matthew had scarcely glanced at the plans, though, for the past six months until, arriving in Bath, he had returned to them as a possible means of subsistence and completed the work, despite grave doubts of its worth. The Franklins’ enthusiasm last night had renewed his faith in his ability and sparked new ideas.
    Recalling Jessica’s reaction to the lack of a drawing room, he grinned, then his smile grew tender at the memory of her walking at his side through the mist. Was he in love? Could life possibly be so kind as to allow him to fall for a girl whose brother was a wealthy landowner? That she should love him, too, was too much to ask, but he dared believe that she did not dislike him.
    He forced his attention back to his work. He had only known Jessica a few days—it was much too soon to dream of making her his wife.
    * * * *
    Jessica settled down after breakfast to work on the sketch of Lord Ilfracombe’s hunting box. The project intrigued her. She sat for some time pondering Mr.