Carola Dunn by My Dearest Valentine Read Free Book Online Page B

Night’s Dream , every hour on the hour. They cut the plays short, he says, for fear of their patrons’ freezing.”
     “Very short! But I should like to see the puppets acting.”
     “And I have been racking my brains for an enticement to bring you to the fair again tomorrow. There’s no knowing how much longer it will last.”
     Their eyes met. In his, Rosabelle read an acknowledgement of the fleeting nature of their relationship.
     “I shall try to be here—at your stall—at the proper time,” she said softly.
     

Chapter 6
     
     “Tolerable, tolerable,” Mr Macleod allowed grudgingly. “He’s caught the look o’ ye, lass. ‘Tis no sae bad, considering.”
     “Considering what, Papa?”
     “Considering ‘twas drawn by a fellow wha sells his skills for a shilling at a fair.”
     “Half a crown, Papa.”
     “Wheesht, the mon robbed ye!”
     “ Pas du tout, ” maman disagreed. Leaning on the back of the sofa, she peered over his shoulder at the portrait. “It is excellent, mon cher. We must have it framed.”
     Her husband sighed and nodded. For a moment, all three studied the picture in silence. Somehow, in a swift sketch in black and white, the artist had not only accurately delineated Rosabelle’s features, he had brought them to life. There was a glow in her eyes and a breathless expectancy in the tender curve of her mouth.
     “ Ma foi, one would say a girl in love!”
     “It must be a trick he has,” Rosabelle said hastily as both her parents turned their gaze from her image to her face. “I daresay many of the people who ask for likenesses are girls wanting portraits for their sweethearts, so he draws them that way to please them. He didn’t know the gentleman I wanted mine for was my own dear Papa.”
     “I’ll take it to be framed tomorrow,” said her father gruffly.
    * * * *
     On Thursday, Madame Yvette could only spare one of her seamstresses to go to the Frost Fair. Esther was a thin, shy, perpetually worried girl, the sole support of her crippled mother. She offered to give up her turn to one of the others, but Rosabelle was determined to give her an hour or two of fresh air and recreation.
     “But, Miss Ros,” Esther whispered timorously, “I can’t afford to take time off.”
     “You won’t lose any pay,” Rosamund promised. “I have to go to the furrier to choose some ermine trim first, and you know Madame doesn’t let me go to the City alone.”
     “You can borrow my cloak, Esther,” called Betsy from the other side of the workroom. “It’s ever so warm, and you’ll need it. Colder than a miser’s heart it is out there on the ice. Brrr! ”
     Esther gratefully accepted Betsy’s offer. Her own pelisse must be thin and threadbare, Rosabelle guessed, ashamed of herself for not noticing last time they went out together. She’d have to have a word with maman about that. She would point out that Esther was one of the best embroiderers, and if she took a chill, it would cause no end of difficulties.
     Maman always preferred to disguise her kindness and generosity as businesslike common sense.
     The carriage was in use, so Jerry summoned a hackney for Rosabelle and Esther. Neither of the footmen had had a chance to go to the Frost Fair. One must always be at hand to open the door and usher in customers, and one to run errands to the great houses of Mayfair and St. James’s.
     “Sunday’s my half day, Miss Ros,” Jerry said, handing her into the hackney with as much ceremony as if she was a duchess entering a crested coach. “D’you reckon the river’ll stay froze till then?”
     “It certainly doesn’t feel like a thaw at present,” she said with a shiver. “It’s as cold as ever.”
     How much longer? Every time she met Mr Rufus, she found the prospect of never seeing him again more painful. Already what was supposed to be a brief, lighthearted flirtation had deepened into genuinely tender feelings. What if the present weather