Married to a Perfect Stranger by Ashford Jane

Author:Ashford, Jane [Ashford, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc
Published: 2014-12-30T08:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Seated at his desk the next day, John took a report from the stack of papers awaiting him. There was always so much to absorb, such an unruly mass of information to boil down into a concise report. Could he even manage it? Had he been overambitious when he’d promised the summary in two days’ time? Would Conolly have finished by now?

John glanced at his colleague, who was bent over another document on the other side of the room. That was silly. Conolly worked no faster than he did. What was wrong with him this morning? John read on, underlined a significant passage, and made a note. He was well on the way to making his mark, demonstrating his skill to…everyone.

It was time to visit Limehouse again and dig for information that others hadn’t found. Why had he heard nothing from Henry Tsing? Why hadn’t he contacted the man himself? He’d allowed domestic concerns to distract him, but that couldn’t be. There was no room for slacking and no margin for error. He would get in touch with Tsing today and schedule further expeditions. And right now, he would absorb the pertinent facts in this stack of paper and produce the perfect report. He bent his head and kept working.

* * *

This would be one of the last days to sit outside this year, Mary thought as she set up her small easel in the garden at the center of the square. The air was chill, with a premonition of rain, and the leaves were almost all gone. There was no wind, however, and the autumn sun shone with enough warmth to let her take advantage of the outdoor space.

She was uneasy and restless after yesterday. And her house felt overfull, even when she was shut away in her private parlor. Pungent odors rose up the steps from the kitchen, where Kate was concocting lotions and tinctures. Mrs. Tanner had followed the vapors upstairs to complain that her daughter’s work made a great mess and hindered her cooking. Mary imagined that this was partly true and partly just resentment at being superseded in her own domain.

Meanwhile, Arthur bounced between the bickering in the kitchen and his room on the top floor. He had no qualms about knocking at her studio door as he passed to see if she had some errand or task for him. He didn’t have enough to do to absorb his boundless energy. Finally, she’d sent him out for a packet of straight pins she didn’t really need.

So this chance to escape to the garden and her paints was more than welcome. She set out her colors and opened the jar of water, prepared the paper, then sat back and waited. Very soon, her brush began to move. Quick strokes over the damp page outlined a head with short hair. She blended brown with white and a dash of red to color a face. Blotting her brush on a cloth, she added the eyes, mouth, nose. Alternating clean lines and the subtle washes that watercolors offered, Mary elaborated the portrait.

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