Page 89 of The Notorious Lady

Ford let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t suppose you think children should be bound and gagged before being thrown into the gaol.”

“I think not.” She grimaced at the idea, although laughter still clung to her lips. “Perhaps not a schoolmaster then,” she conceded. “But you need to do something that will give you some physical work, yes, but also you need to work with your mind, solving puzzles. I don’t think you’ll be content with a type of work that will satisfy only one part of that.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” he said, his face turning more serious. “And what would you do if you were to retire from running a brothel?”

A genuine smile tugged at her lips. She’d thought about it before. She’d thought about it when she was a child. She’d thought about it, fantasized about it during her darkest days. And she still thought about it when she sat in her little office counting money long into the night. “I always loved to paint,” she admitted softly. “If I were to do something else in my life, it would be that. I don’t know how successful I would be, but that is something I would have liked to pursue.”

“When was the last time you painted?”

“With watercolors? A long time ago. But I sketch all the time. Although, the subject matter is rather different from what I used to paint.”

“What do you sketch?” Ford asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

She felt a mischievous grin spread across her face. “I will show you later.”

“I would love to see that. Although…” He pressed his finger to his lips in thought.

“Although?”

“I would have imagined you to be an inventor.”

She laughed at the impossibility of such a feat but also felt touched that Ford thought her deserving of the title. “Perhaps if I were a man.”

He shook his head, suddenly serious. “I mean it. I’ve seen your love-chair design and you said you have more.”

“Oh…” Grace felt heat rising to her cheeks, remembering her design and realizing Ford had not only seen it but appreciated it. “Yes, I have quite a few inventions like that. But they are very specific. If I didn’t have a brothel, what would I be using them for? Not sure how that would translate into a peaceful seaside life.”

The village appeared around the bend, and they both quickened their steps. “People in quiet towns need pleasure as well.” Ford shrugged. “Perhaps use your inventions to help married couples keep their life interesting.”

“Married life?” She frowned in thought. “I don’t see a lot of marital bliss in my line of work.”

“Perhaps you would see more of it if you shifted your focus away from the brothels and into the quiet village life.”

She pursed her lips in thought. “I might consider this idea. Even if we ever escape this place.”

Ford’s laughter lightened the mood as they approached the cobbler. “I’ll send the missive to Blake,” he said. “I’ll meet you here in a moment.”

Grace nodded, turning her attention to selecting candles. When Ford returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a rectangular item wrapped in paper.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Open it,” he urged, handing it to her.

As Grace unwrapped the package, revealing a sketchbook and a couple of pencils, she looked up at Ford, her eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper, more complex.

“I thought we were supposed to be frugal,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the sketchbook.

Ford shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Worse comes to worst, I can be a fisherman in this quaint village.” He paused, his lips pursing in thought. “Or a schoolmaster.”

* * *

Ford stepped into Grace’s bedroom, his hair still damp from the bath, a towel draped around his shoulders. His eyes were immediately drawn to Grace, illuminated by the soft glow of a single candle.

She sat at a small desk, her attention wholly focused on the task before her. Her delicate hands moved with practiced precision, wielding a pencil over the sketchbook he’d bought her earlier in the day.

Ford approached quietly, hoping not to break her concentration.

As he drew nearer, the image on the paper came into focus.