Venus by Jane Feather Page A

set in silver, showed four o’clock. “Take the book, paper, and quill with you. You may practice when your duties are over, and I will correct what you have done tomorrow.”
    Polly gathered the book to her breast—a convulsive gesture that caused both gentlemen to experience a ludicrous flash of envy for the inanimate object. “Do you think I will learn enough in a week to be introduced to Master Killigrew?” The hazel eyes were wide and candid in their appeal, her tongue peeping anxiously from between her lips. That matchless bosom rose and fell with the urgency of her words. “Lady Margaret does not care for me in the least, and I do not think I can remain here for very long.”
    “You need not be afeard of Lady Margaret,” Nicholas said quietly. “She holds no jurisdiction over you. You are answerable only to me.”
    Polly looked as if she did not quite believe this; that lower lip trembled slightly. Then she sighed bravely and left the room, the set of her head and shoulders radiating courageous determination.
    “What a masterly performance!” breathed De Winter, rising to his feet.
    “In what way?” Nick frowned. His friend laughed.
    “My dear Nick, I’ll lay odds that she has only to appeal to you just once more in that manner, and you will do whatever she wishes!”
    Nick allowed a rueful smile to touch his lips. “The devil’s in it, Richard, but I fear you are right. Yet it will not do to present her to Killigrew until she has acquired a little more polish, and until then I must keep her under my eye. I cannot imagine what she would get up to if I set her up in lodgings somewhere, unsupervised, before she is ready to start her acting career. She is not accustomed to idleness or freedom; just think what the sudden acquisition of both might lead to. She will be quite safe here, under Margaret’s Puritan supervision, while we teach her what she must know.” He shook his head in a slightly defeated fashion. “But, indeed, at times I doubt my ability to resist her blandishments. Are you not also bewitched?”
    De Winter drew on his lace-edged gloves. “She has not set out to bewitch
me
, Nick.” On this undeniable truth, he left his friend to his reflections.
    Polly had ample time while working her way through the mountain of silver to plot her campaign. True, she had received a few setbacks this afternoon, but Lord Kincaid
must
be persuaded to take her into his bed. After that he could not deny her the protection he would afford a mistress, and would remove her from this miserable place so that he could enjoy her without obstruction. One could not summon one’s mistress for an afternoon of pleasure if she was scrubbing cooking pots, she thought with a vicious rub at a chafing dish. She would have to live under some man’s protection until she had proved her worth as an actor and could command a living wage. Polly could see absolutely no reason why Nicholas, Lord Kincaid, should not be that man. Indeed, she could think of a great many reasons why he should be; the fact that the prospect sent prickly shivers of anticipation up her spine seemed to be one of the most convincing. Lord Kincaid was a most proper gentleman.
    She lay that evening on her cot in the attic, listening to the soft snores from Susan beside her, the rather heavier ones from Bridget in the corner. It was still early, and if she had been in her old life, the evening’s work would have barely begun; but Lady Margaret kept early hours, and after supper and lengthy prayers, the household had been dismissed to their beds. They would rise at four o’clock, long beforedawn, Susan had told her, tumbling onto her bed with a groan of relief, so she had best take what rest she could. Tomorrow was the monthly wash day, when all the linen in the house must be scrubbed, dried, and ironed. It was a dreadful day, Susan moaned, and they must be up betimes to set the water to boiling against the start of the great wash.
    It was not a prospect