Archie had taken more pains than usual with his appearance, plastering his unruly curls down on his head, brushing down his jacket and trousers, and shining his shoes. He felt he was looking his very best when he arrived at the park opposite the Smythe residence.
Not long afterward he saw the very alluring Maria Baez walking toward him, her head tilted to one side, her mouth curved in a smile.
“Mr. Jones,” she said with her charming accent. “You are early I think.”
“I may be a little early, Miss Baez.” He found himself simply looking at her, enjoying the curve of her cheek and the dark shine to her hair beneath the straw bonnet. Archie had never found it difficult to chat to women—he’d once regarded himself as a bit of a ladies’ man—but suddenly he felt as gauche as a boy. What if she discovered the truth about their “accidental” meeting? Perhaps he should simply tell her.
At first she returned his look, and then she laughed. “Mr. Jones, it’s not polite to stare.”
“I am sorry, Miss Baez. I was just . . . thinking.”
“Would you care to share your thoughts?”
For a moment he thought he might do just that, but common sense reasserted itself. He was cultivating Maria’s company so that he could spy upon her household for his employer. Such information was not likely to endear him to her, and it certainly wouldn’t get the job done.
“I was wondering whether you might have been too busy to meet me today, Miss Baez. I believe the Smythes are having a dinner party.”
“And how did you know of that?”
She gave him a sharp look, and Archie wondered whether he’d stuck his foot in it. Richard had told him about the dinner party, after the visit by Miss Smythe, but he could hardly explain to Maria how he came to hear of it. Miss Smythe’s visits were a secret, and he’d been sworn to silence. Perhaps he wasn’t very good at this game of spying after all, or perhaps it was being in Maria’s company that was scrambling his brains.
Luckily she didn’t wait for an answer. “Actually you are right, there is a dinner party, but they will not miss me for an hour.”
They strolled along in companionable silence.
“Are you happy in your current position?” Archie asked her at last.
“I am very happy,” she said firmly. “They are very kind to me. I worry sometimes that . . .” She glanced at him. “There are money problems, you understand, but they will rise above them. I know they will.”
Archie tucked that piece of information away for later.
“What of you, Mr. Jones? Are you happy in your position?”
Archie chuckled. “Oh yes, very happy. My household is not a conventional one by any means. I never know what will happen next or who will come calling. Life is never dull in Jasmine Square, Miss Baez.”
Maria smiled, putting aside that address for future reference.
For herself she’d prefer dullness if it meant Miss Tina would forget about her plan to marry Lord Horace. Several times it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell her young mistress exactly what sort of man he was, but she didn’t feel she could—it was not her place—not unless Tina asked for her advice.
But there was more to Miss Tina’s secretiveness than Lord Horace. She was up to something, and Maria was determined to discover what it was. Just as she was going to find out what Archie Jones’s game was, sniffing around.
And yet she was enjoying his company. Where was the harm in it? And he didn’t seem to be a debt collector. If he had been, she was certain he would have quizzed her after she mentioned the Smythe’s financial troubles instead of simply letting it pass.
So what was he? Who was he?
Maria glanced sideways at him and bit her lip on a smile. He had tried to flatten his curls, but they were already springing up irrepressibly all over his head. She didn’t know why he bothered. She liked his curls.
She liked him.
He caught her eye and smiled at her. Maria slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, and they strolled on. It was such a lovely day, and suddenly she didn’t care what his real agenda was, she was determined to enjoy it.
Chapter 11
Tina stood in front of her mirror. She could not, of course, wear anything too revealing for a family dinner, and she thought the pink dress from last season, though a trifle insipid, suited her coloring well enough. She and Maria had worked on it, altering the hem and sleeves, adding some ribbons and lace. At least the neckline was high enough to appease her mother and Maria had done wonders with her hair, as usual.
Outside she could hear the coaches arriving as their guests made their way to Mallory Street. Earlier, seeing the crates and boxes being carried into the kitchen, full of the finest food and wine, Tina couldn’t stop herself wondering how much money this was all costing and how her father could pay the bills.
Well, he couldn’t. It was a tribute to his previous standing that he’d managed to extend his already overstretched credit.