He lay the book down, a little disturbed at the picture he had seen but not about to acknowledge that he had seen it. Milly returned to the room and, although she frowned before picking up the drawing book, her expression betrayed nothing of her suspicion that he had seen the pictures.
Henry chose the picture that was most suitable and promised to call on her two days hence. They were both to go to the local printers.
When Henry had left the room, Milly let the book slip out of her hands with a groan. She would have died with shame if he had seen the portrait of himself. She had been so foolish, letting her heart rule her head when she had been drawing.
She had to remind herself that he no longer looked at her in such a gentle way. Expressions like she had reproduced had only been visible when he was fooling them all into thinking he was a man intent only on having fun instead of being the spy he was, determined to use whomever crossed his path to achieve his aim.
She would have been reassured to realise that later in the day Henry would dwell on that picture. He tried to push away the feeling that it would be appealing if, for once, someone could see him as a being with a heart and soul. Only he knew he was a lost cause and longing for something that could never be, did no one any good.
Chapter 4
Milly dressed with care. Of course she did not wish to impress the printer, however clever she thought the skill. It all had to do with her muddled feelings about Henry. She dressed in a cerulean blue day dress. Sometimes this particular colour did not wear well, turning into a greener hue, which did not really suit Milly’s complexion; but thankfully the material was of a good quality, and it set off the grey in her eyes to perfection. A delicate grey spencer finished off the outfit, again perfect for enhancing the colour of her eyes.
Milly grimaced at herself in the looking glass, she should be over such vanity at her age but, as she had learned once before, it was all about appearance, and somehow she had the impression that Henry would be exactly the type of person who thought more of how something was presented than of true substance. That in itself should have her running from him, but she was uncharacteristically drawn to him. In some respects it made the past easier to bear. That her heart had not been completely shattered was reassuring. She was under no illusion that she would find someone to spend the rest of her life with, but the way her heart responded to Henry always gave her a nugget of hope that, at some point, she would meet a decent man.
Henry smiled and bowed when Milly entered the hall at Half Moon Street. “You look very well this morning, Miss Holland. I hope the printing press does your pictures justice.”
“As long as you are satisfied with the result, I’m sure it will please me. Thankfully, I’m not dependent on the quality as you are, My Lord.”
They set off in Henry’s carriage. Normally Milly would have preferred to walk, although it was perfectly respectable travelling in the carriage, she was fully aware of being confined with a notorious rake. She cursed her heightened colour and tried to maintain her aloof demeanour.
Henry watched Milly closely as they travelled together. She was such a contradictory mixture that she fascinated him. He could see the struggle she was undergoing, and he almost wanted to ease her torment. If he were so inclined he could drag her onto his knee, and he was fairly sure that she would kiss him as she had the last time. The thought of that kiss made him a little uncomfortable, and he moved on the seat, trying to counteract the physical reaction that thinking of her kisses did to him.
They arrived at the printers in good time and stepped out of the carriage. Henry offered his arm and Milly placed her gloved hand on it. Neither openly reacted to the feeling of being in contact with each other, but both were moved by the sensation.
The building was in a row of similar businesses. The noise of the machines could be heard as a rumble in the background. Milly smiled at Henry; she was excited about seeing her drawing turned into something else, and the noises seemed to draw her in, promising all manner of unknown experiences.
They walked through the door and were immediately greeted by a portly gentleman, wearing a thick cloth apron that showed years of wear. He smiled at them, introduced himself and took them through a room at the back. The whole area seemed to be filled with large machines. Men were working at every station, the clatter of the mechanical movements filling the room to an ear-splitting level.
They were led to a smaller room in which the number of machines were fewer, and not all were working, making the sound more bearable.
“Here we are, M’Lud,” he said with pride. “This is our new lithograph machine. She’s a beauty and performs well.”
“How does it work?” Milly asked, curious to see the machine in action.
“It’s wonderfully simple really, Miss,” the printer answered. “We use a lot of different processes to get the block perfect to use and the image to stay on the block. To tell you the basics Miss, the picture M’Lud supplied is copied with a crayon onto this limestone block. The grease from the crayon sticks to the limestone and, as you’ll see, however many times we use it, the picture will still remain perfect. It’s really all about oil and water; no more complicated than that.”
“Fascinating,” Milly said genuinely interested.
“Let me show you what I mean, Miss.” The printer became all business as he showed Milly the limestone block with the picture of Joshua on it. She was impressed at the level of reproduction on the block, the printer making her smile when he admitted that the picture was traced from her original drawing. They both watched as water was applied to the block and then ink to an inking slab, rolling it out with a leather inking roller. He then rolled the roller on the limestone block and, when he was satisfied with the coverage, he placed a sheet of paper over the image, something that he explained spread the weight of the block evenly. The block was then forced through the printing press, and the printer carefully removed the paper, showing a perfect mirror image of Joshua’s face.
“That’s unbelievable!” Milly said in true appreciation.
“It’s very clever and makes a good print. We’ll have these ready for you within the hour, M’Lud,” the printer said, turning to Henry who had remained quiet throughout the lesson. He had been happy to enjoy watching Milly’s unaffected interest in the process.
“I shall return shortly afterwards then,” Henry said before indicating to Milly that they should leave.
“Thank you for showing me how it’s printed. I can see there is more expertise to the process than you have admitted, but you do make it seem so simple. It’s almost an hypnotic procedure to watch, which is very arrogant of me, as you clearly work extremely hard. I’m very grateful that you allowed us to interrupt your working day. Good morning to you,” Milly said, before leaving the room to once more pass through the noisy printing room.
“Thank you, Miss,” the printer responded, a little overwhelmed at the sincere words offered. They left him standing with his chest a little more puffed out than usual.
She blinked when she vacated the building, the noise and smells a little overwhelming.
“So has your curiosity been satisfied, Miss Holland?” Henry asked with a smile.
“Oh yes! It was fascinating; thank you for allowing me to accompany you.”
“I think you made a lifelong friend in there,” Henry teased, nodding his head to the building, as he handed her into the carriage.
Milly smiled. “I only told the truth.”
“In such a way that it charmed him completely!” Henry said with a smile as he seated himself in the carriage. For once he was not being cynical; she had charmed the printer, and it was done with such sincerity he could not criticise her for it.
Milly laughed quietly, pleased at the teasing.
“Miss Holland, if you’ve no objection I’d like to take you to a little tea shop that I know of not too far away from here. If you are amenable, I can collect the finished pictures before returning you to Half Moon Street.”
Milly’s first reaction was to refuse, but then she realised that this was going to be the last time they met before she returned home. The thought of home filled her with dread, but pushing aside her melancholy she smiled and agreed. One treat before she left London was not going to hurt her grieving heart any further she reasoned as the carriage made its way to the tea shop.
They were seated in the window, able to watch the busy street. Henry ordered far too many cakes, and Milly laughed when he insisted on her trying every one.
“Has my cousin told you of my sweet tooth?” Milly asked with a smile at the wide array of cakes on the table.
“No, she kept your secret. I’m glad I ordered so many, you must try them all!”
“My dancing days are over, My Lord; you shall be sending me home with a need to walk the width and breadth of the town to wear off all these cakes!”
Henry smiled, enjoying the relaxed look and laughing grey eyes. “If I ever hear of a lady carving a path from one end of Farnham to the other, I shall know immediately who they are talking about.”
“You must eat more,” Milly said, unconsciously pushing a plate of cake towards him and handing him a fork. She blushed at Henry’s heated stare, realising she had overstepped polite behaviour; it was not her role to fuss over him in such a way. She busied herself by pouring more tea.
“Who is at home to greet you?” Henry asked, changing the subject to spare her blushes, not realising Milly was as reluctant at speaking about her home as she was at flirting with him.
“My mother. My two younger brothers are at school,” Milly said quietly.
“Your father?”
“Died a few years ago,” Milly acknowledged.
“I know Farnham a little; I visited once some time ago. I remember Castle Street and the castle but very little else.” Henry’s tone was easy but, as always, he was watching her with interest.
“We moved to the centre of town after my father died. It is a pretty town; the market fills Castle Street every week, which I always liked to watch from the window. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle it brought.”
So there was no money in the family, Henry mused silently. There was usually only one reason a family moved after a death, and that was purely based on finances. It probably explained why she was still single; if there was no dowry, it usually did not matter how pretty the young woman was; there was always going to be someone richer, although not necessarily as pretty or entertaining. Those attributes were considered secondary when considering a wife by most of the
ton
.
“Your mother must have missed you. I believe you have been some time with your cousins?”
“Yes, more than four years. I joined them soon after my father died; it suited everyone as it was not long after my aunt had died, and I took on the official role of chaperone to my cousin,” Milly explained. Oh, how one could hide so much in so few words! But long may it remain hidden she thought privately.
Henry continued to be charming until it was time to leave. He left Milly seated in his carriage while he completed his business transaction with the printer and then gave instructions to return his companion to her home. Surprisingly, he had enjoyed his afternoon out but, just as Milly did, he realised they would not cross paths again.
He sighed as they travelled through the streets of London. He needed to do something that had been niggling away at him for weeks now, and the action would not come naturally to him.
“Miss Holland, I have an apology to make,” he started.
“Oh?”
“Yes, that blasted night in Dorset is haunting me for a number of reasons. One of the reasons involves you.”
Milly immediately flushed a deep red. “I feel it would be better for both of us if we don’t mention that evening, My Lord,” she said, not wishing to resurrect the feelings that were already difficult enough to suppress. It was a shame to cast a cloud over proceedings when the afternoon had been so pleasant.
“I behaved like a complete scoundrel,” Henry said quietly.
“You did,” Milly admitted.
Henry chuckled. “Yes, I did! I’m sorry I reacted so cruelly; you didn’t deserve it, and I wish I could take back the words I uttered.”
“What did you say that was so wrong? I would not be brave if faced with what happened that evening, and I’m fully aware that I couldn’t protect myself. You were right: a pencil is little weapon against people who are going to be hanged if caught,” Milly said fairly. She had already admitted to herself that his words had been a correct assessment of her character.
Henry moved across the carriage, so he was seated at Milly’s side and took her gloved hand in his. “I was inexcusably harsh. I was angry with myself; I
had
been dismissive about the dangers to those around me, and there could have been many more deaths than there were. I was hiding from everything because I knew it was my fault and then you came running around that corner and tore a strip off me. I wasn’t ready to accept it then, but every word you uttered was true.”
“It was a hard night for everyone involved,” Milly acknowledged, looking down at her hand being clasped in his large one.
Henry watched the gentle Milly as her colour heightened. What was it about her that made him long to put his arms around her and protect her from the rest of the world? He had never felt that about anyone else ̶ except one, but he could never allow himself to dwell on those memories; they were a physical pain, barely suppressed. For the first time, since meeting Milly, he had found someone who made him feel warm inside, warmer than the ice block he usually felt.
He took one of Milly’s curls and curled it through his free fingers. “I could so easily kiss you now like I did on that night,” he said with a smile at Milly’s surprised expression at his touch.
“You pushed me away,” Milly said quietly. She wanted him to kiss her so much she ached to lean into him, but it was no use. His kisses were a risk to her reputation and she could not act so foolishly for a second time.
“You should have run from me then, and you should run from me now. I’m not a good man, Miss Holland.”
“I’m sure you are being too harsh on yourself, My Lord.”
“Am I?” Henry asked gruffly. He could tell her tales that would shock her and convince her never to look at him the way she sometimes did. He was a fool for needing her good opinion and decided to take control of the situation. “Your kisses weren’t that of an innocent,” he said, reverting back to his usual persona and voicing the words that had bothered him since he had touched her lips.