Chapter Nine
“You really don’t need to come with me to buy the supplies,” James said, as he assisted Margaret into her coach.
“But I want to.” She sat back on the well-padded seat and adjusted her skirts. It was such a shame James couldn’t sit with her in the carriage instead of up on the bench. It looked so uncomfortable, and they wouldn’t be able to talk with him there.
It was also another sharp reminder to them both that he was a servant, which made things just a touch odd, actually. She put that thought from her mind, though. He wasn’t a servant just now; he was an artist who would be painting her portrait. Why did that sound so enticing? “Besides, if I don’t, how will you get that enormous canvas back to the duchess’s home?”
“I’d hire a hack,” he said, still waiting to climb up on
