Free Forgiven by Janet Fox Page B

“And you, sir.”
    When I turned to greet that young man, when my eyes truly rested on him, I caught myself. I’d seen him clearly out the window, but his good looks were magnified up close. His thick fair hair curled in all the right places; his eyes were large and deep brown—like a fawn’s eyes. I caught myself stargazing into them.
    He bit his lip, trying to appear sober, but as his father turned away, the young prince gave me a sly smile.
    Kula Baker does know how to breathe. Breathe, Kula Baker.
    While I examined the fine Persian carpet under my feet, Miss Everts went on. “Miss Baker is my new protégé. She’s an artist’s model. I think her exotic beauty will charm San Francisco. Don’t you agree?”
    An artist’s model? I tried to hide my shock by fixing my stare on one particular Oriental swirl.
    “Indeed!” William Henderson eyed me like he might eye a prized steer. “Bring her along on Thursday the twelfth, then, Phillipa. Let’s introduce her to San Francisco society properly.” He stared at me, lines forming on his brow. “What did you say her name was—Baker?”
    “I’m Will,” the younger man said.
    If I fixed my gaze on Will’s eyes, I’d fall into them. So I nodded my hello and went back to my carpet. Artist’s model? I was a servant, though I longed to be a lady. But, an artist’s model?
    Miss Everts came around from behind the two men and took my arm with a firm pinch. “Time to take your leave, gentlemen. Thank you for the invitation. The twelfth, then. Kula and I will be there. But at the moment, we have things to attend to.”
    “I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Baker,” young Will said to me, and bowed, which forced me to meet his eyes straight on. He winked, this time, as if we were now the best of friends. Goodness. Such a being walked the earth, and smiled and winked at Kula Baker.
    Jameson appeared from nowhere. His voice came out soft. “Gentlemen?” He extended his long arm toward the door, giving them no alternative but to head for it, as indeed they did, hats raised in polite good-bye.
    When the door slipped shut and Jameson turned the lock, Miss Everts sighed. “We have a new complication.” She and Jameson exchanged a look, and he vanished into the back of the house.
    The entire episode left me in a puzzlement. I turned to Miss Everts. I could only address one question at a time, and the first was also the most alarming, at least to me. “An artist’s model?”
    She waved her hand. “Yes, well. It was all I could come up with on the spur of the moment. I didn’t expect to see you make an appearance. Besides, you would make a good model, if that was your inclination. You have a unique presence.”
    “A model for what?”
    “For pity’s sake. Posing for paintings and the like.”
    I blanched, then blushed. “I could never—”
    “No?” she interrupted. “Do you have any idea what kind of money an artist’s model makes?”
    I took a step back. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I’d never examined a role for myself beyond service that didn’t involve a husband. I’d been a working girl, of course, but not that kind. I was aghast. “Money?”
    “That’s right. There’s money to be made in many ways, girl, and if money is your object, why, there is your solution.” She sounded tired. “I shall be eating in my room this evening. You can take your meal in the drawing room. I wish to be left alone, so there’s no need to turn my bed down. You may take care of things in the morning. You should send word to Hannah that you have arrived safely. Send a telegram with Jameson.”
    But I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand the dragon seal, for one thing. And I couldn’t ignore my pressing need to find Ty Wong. “But, Miss Everts . . . I have to ask—”
    “No more. I have a frightful headache.” She turned and went up the stairs, her gray gown swishing as she climbed in slow pace to her own rooms. Well. That gray silk dress