Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“So what’s next, now that we’ve got the Hobbses on board?” Stephen asked on the street. Not that he cared overly much. All he wanted was to be next to Miss Jilly Jones.

“We’re off to see Susan and Otis,” she said. “I’m longing to see how their handkerchiefs are coming along, but don’t you have those house repairs to make?”

He shrugged. “The needs of the fair take precedence.” As did escorting an enchanting bookseller about Dreare Street.

“Are you sure?” She looked a little uncertain.

“Trying to rid yourself of me?”

“No, but I plan on stopping at Nathaniel’s before I go to Susan’s.”

“Oh?”

She gave a determined nod. “He needs to help Susan.”

“But he’s a painter.”

“I know.” She bit her thumb. “I need to figure out a reason.”

Stephen caught on. “Oh, so you want to play matchmaker?”

Miss Jones blushed. “Is that so wrong?”

“If love is meant to be, won’t it bloom on its own?”

“I don’t know,” Miss Jones said. “Why leave it up to chance? I see nothing wrong with moving things along.”

She gave him a chiding yet warm look—the kind that made him impatient to get her on the floor of her bookstore again—and knocked on Nathaniel’s door. When the artist opened it, he was wearing an apron covered in speckles of paint.

“Delighted to see you both,” Nathaniel said. “Do you want to see what I’m working on for the fair?”

“That’s the entire reason we’re here.” Stephen glanced at Miss Jones. “Isn’t it, Miss Jones?”

“Of course it is,” she said, wide-eyed.

But he knew better.

At the far end of the spare garret, which was flooded with northern light because of an expansive window, Nathaniel pointed out several small paintings on an easel. The pictures were small watercolor renderings of various housefronts in Mayfair, done with great charm.

“They’re beautiful,” Miss Jones said, her whole face lighting up.

“Very nice work,” he added. “Do you plan to paint any Dreare Street façades?”

Nathaniel laughed. “Of course not. Who would buy them?”

Miss Jones winced only slightly. “Someday, someone will. Dreare Street won’t be hopeless for much longer.”

Stephen had to admire her optimism—that and her dedication to her cause, which he’d now committed to making his own. He wasn’t sure it was the best thing to do. But it was too late to turn back.

“Sorry, Miss Jones,” Nathaniel said. “Old habits die hard.”

“You’re completely forgiven.” Miss Jones smiled at him. “I’d tell you to start your Dreare Street collection by painting the captain’s home, but he won’t be with us for long. Once the fair succeeds, he’ll be able to sell his house. You’ll be on to a new adventure, isn’t that right, Captain?”

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Yes, indeed,” he replied, but the idea didn’t fill him with much satisfaction. And Miss Jones didn’t appear particularly perturbed at the thought of his leaving, either.

Nathaniel scratched his head. “To tell the truth, if I painted the captain’s house, I’d need paper twice this size to capture the rambling qualities of it.”

“It does appear as if the wings were tacked on one at a time,” Stephen agreed.

Miss Jones asked about Nathaniel’s daily work habits. When he was finished detailing them, down to an explanation about how he cleaned his brushes in the evening, she said, “It’s been lovely stopping by, but we’ve got to visit Susan and Otis now. They’re working on a project together. Oversized handkerchiefs for the street fair. Would you like to come with us to see them?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m a bit busy.” And he was, obviously. He had a dish of wet paint nearby.

Stephen could see Miss Jones thinking rapidly.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I was hoping you could help.”

“Help with what?” Nathaniel picked up a brush and began dabbing it on his latest creation.

Miss Jones folded her hands in front of her. “Susan is in need of someone to take Thomas to the park this afternoon while she and Otis work. But I understand. You’re too busy. I’d ask Captain Arrow, but he’s going with me to find Pratt and the Hartleys.”

“I am?” Stephen said.

“Remember, we’re going to see the theater troupe?” She smiled in a forced manner.

Obviously, he was supposed to go along with her.

“Oh, right,” he said, recovering. “We are. As soon as we leave here, as a matter of fact. I’m on my way to hire a hackney.”

“But—” Miss Jones insisted.

“No buts,” Stephen told her. “We’ve got to cross Waterloo Bridge to get to the Royal Coburg Theater. Unless, of course, we give up on the whole idea. Thomas and I will have a lovely time in the park.”

He could tell she longed to make an awful face at him, but Nathaniel was watching. “Oh, no,” she said. “We really must go.”

Stephen couldn’t help but smile. “Is that a promise? I won’t go unless it is.”

“Of course.” Miss Jones took his arm and sighed. “Good-bye, Nathaniel,” she said to the artist. “I look forward to seeing more watercolors soon.” And then she began subtly pulling Stephen toward the front door.

“Yes, ah, good-bye, Nathaniel,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t look back,” she whispered.

“I can see you’re an expert at this matchmaking business,” he whispered back.

She ignored him and stared resolutely at the door. He could see how agonized she was as they got closer and closer.

“I suppose I could take the boy to the park,” Nathaniel called out to them, just as they’d reached the front door. “A small break wouldn’t hurt.”

Miss Jones turned around, her face alight with joy. “You would? That’s so kind of you.”

Nathaniel scratched his head. “Yes, well, I’ll do it.” His face brightened. “Thomas likes birds, so we can go bird-watching.”

“I know Susan will be so appreciative.” Miss Jones nodded her head vigorously.

Poor fellow, thought Stephen. Nathaniel had no idea of the trap he’d just walked into, although Stephen must admit that taking a little boy on a walk would be a nice diversion for anyone.

Outside, Miss Jones’s violet-blue eyes lightened almost to periwinkle. “Now we’ve got to go see Susan,” she said with relish, “and tell her Nathaniel volunteered to take Thomas on a walk.”

“And after that, we’ll get that hackney and go to the theater,” Stephen reminded her.

Miss Jones stopped walking. “But we don’t need to, really. I was just saying that to give Nathaniel an excuse to help.”

“But you gave me your word we’d go together.” Stephen was firm. “Besides, it couldn’t hurt to check on Pratt and the Hartleys.”

“All right,” she said. “But—”

She hesitated.

“But what?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “Nothing.”

Ah. A blush was creeping up her high cheekbones. “If you’re worried about your virtue,” he said softly, “don’t. It’s safe with me.”

She turned. “Is it?”

The vulnerability in her expression touched him.

“Of course,” he assured her.

She brightened immediately. “I’m glad, Captain. Thank you for … for understanding. I know we”—she hesitated—“I mean”—she blew out a breath—“oh, dear, what I’m trying to say is that … I am a respectable bookseller.”

“An indisputable fact I haven’t forgotten,” Stephen said, squeezing her hand. “Why don’t you go see Otis and Susan, and then meet me out here at the top of the street when you’re done.”

“Oh.” He could swear she looked almost bereft. “You won’t come with me?”

It must have been a shadow that had passed over her face from a cloud overhead. There was no way Miss Jones would be bereft at the thought of his leaving.

“No,” he told her. “I’m going to wait for a decent hackney.”

And then he turned his back on her and began walking.

Don’t look back, he told himself. Give her a bit of her own medicine.

He even started to whistle.

“Captain?”

He stopped in his tracks, smiled, then schooled his expression to be neutral. Slowly, he turned around. “Yes?”

“Thank you for getting the hackney.” She plucked at her skirts, appearing almost shy.

“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.

She gave him a crooked smile.

When he turned again to the top of the street, his chest felt heavy with something important.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was taking place around Miss Jones.

Miss Jones.

Miss Jones.

He could say her name a long time without ever losing pleasure in the saying. Something was important about that. It filled him with wonder. And warmth.

He could hardly stand the five minutes he’d have to wait to see her again.

Miss Jones looked out the window almost the entire time they were in the hackney. Her profile was mesmerizing. Stephen enjoyed watching her bob up and down gently with the rhythm of the wheels, too. Her feet were pressed tightly together and her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She was such a lady.

Such a tempting lady.

He looked out his window, too, only occasionally sneaking peeks at her. The one time he spoke to her was when they crossed Waterloo Bridge. “A fine view, isn’t it?”

She finally looked at him. “Yes,” she said. “Very fine.”

And that was that.

When they reached the theater, they couldn’t find Pratt and the Hartleys in the crowd. They’d arrived too late for the dramatic performance, but they caught a pantomime and enjoyed the subsequent harlequinade immensely. Miss Jones especially laughed at Harlequin’s antics when Pantaloon chased him across the stage and pummeled him so hard with his hat that Harlequin snatched it and punched his fist through the crown.

After it was over, they went backstage, where they did finally meet up with Pratt, the Hartleys, and the small, elite acting troupe known as the Canterbury Cousins.

“So nice to see you, Captain!” Lady Hartley said. She took his arm possessively.

“Shouldn’t you be working on the house?” Sir Ned frowned. “The damned bats need to be got rid of, and the beam in the breakfast room and in Miranda’s bedchamber are still rotting away. Why’d you come here?”

“The house repairs and the bats will have to wait.” Stephen held his annoyance at bay. Of course he should have stayed home and seen to his own affairs. But he wasn’t going to have an obnoxious distant relative tell him what to do.

“The street fair is primo, Sir Ned,” Pratt said in his melodious accent. “Miss Jones and Captain Arrow have taken it upon themselves to oversee the planning. You are uomo vecchio already, eh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sir Ned narrowed his eyes.

“You are an old man.” Pratt smiled his beautiful white smile. “You forget things.”

Sir Ned’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not an old man!”

“Then shut your lips.” Pratt extended his palms toward Sir Ned. “In my country, people who talk too much get no wine. No women. No songs.”

Surprisingly, Sir Ned did stop talking.

Miss Hartley stared at Pratt in wonder, then took her father’s arm. “Yes, Papa, we need Miss Jones and Captain Arrow. They need to get the actors to come and perform for free.”

“Free?” a red-bearded man said. “We can’t perform for free.”

“But sirs,” Miss Jones said, “we’ve no money to pay you. Consider this an opportunity to become better known around London.”

“Sorry, we’re too good a troupe to work for no pay,” said another actor.

“But Prinny’s coming!” Miss Hartley said.

The actors all looked at each other.

“The Prince Regent?” the red-bearded man said in a disbelieving tone.

Stephen cleared his throat. “Yes,” he told the actor. “He’s coming. We’re to make the arrangements tonight.”

The actors took themselves off for a moment and came back.

“We’ll do it,” said the red-bearded man. “We’ll start with the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. You’ll need to provide us with a balcony on set, of course. It’s quite an impressive performance.”

“We’ll make sure we’ve got a balcony,” Stephen said, regretting that it was one more carpentry project he’d have to oversee before he got to the rotting beams.

“And make sure you’ve got the prince, too,” one of the actors reminded him with a laugh.

Stephen made the obligatory chuckle at the man’s attempt at wit, but he was bothered. Building the balcony would be a hassle, but that wasn’t going to be nearly as difficult as getting the Prince Regent to come to Dreare Street.

“Isn’t everything about the fair so exciting, Captain?” Miss Jones said in the carriage on their way home.

“Very.” His lingering doubts about the street fair dissolved then. One look at her grin of delight and he realized that even if she’d wanted the moon, he’d move heaven and earth to help her get it.