Chapter Ten #2
A smile—which Hannah could only describe as fond—stretched over Eoin’s lips.
She did not want to admit how much the sight affected her.
Yet she couldn’t deny that she liked the fact that Eoin seemed drawn to the parts of her that the rest of Society often condemned.
They were, after all, the aspects that she took the most pride in, and the recognition felt good. More than good.
“I’m happy to share this quest with you.” The words tumbled from Hannah’s mouth before she had thought better. To her surprise, Eoin didn’t blush. Instead, he grinned—broadly and with a warmth that she didn’t know the stoic man could generate.
“Could you apply paint or soot to my face and make it look like I’ve fought in a few bouts?” Eoin asked, his voice boyishly eager.
“I can’t—at least not convincingly,” Hannah admitted. “But I know someone—two someones, in fact—who can help. They might not get along, however.”
“No! No!” Calliope cried, her normally sweet voice tight with frustration. “That is much too dark and untextured. This isn’t for the stage!”
“I’ll have you know that people rave about how realistic the blood and gore look at the Grand. It is one of the reasons that my theater does so well!” Alun waved a burnt piece of cork as he paused in placing smudges around Eoin’s eye.
Hannah tried very hard not to jump into the fray. Her last attempt to enforce order had only worsened the situation. What had she been thinking to invite both the poetess and the playwright?
“Hissssssss!” Eoin’s gosling flapped its stubby wings as it ran at Alun.
The actor leaped back, but the enraged ball of down was faster. Although the creature didn’t possess its signature long neck yet, it still managed to close its short beak around the skin at Alun’s ankle.
“Owwww! That hurt! Why does that menace keep nipping me?” Alun demanded.
“It is an impeccable judge of character?” Calliope offered tartly.
“I am exceedingly sorry.” Eoin bent to pick up the vibrating animal. “As of late, it’s become very protective of me.”
“Whyever did you bring that fowl to the Black Sheep?” Alun glared at the bird as he bent to rub his injury.
“I am afraid that I am to blame,” Hannah confessed. “It put up such an awful fuss when we were departing that I couldn’t bear to leave it.”
“Ninny!” Pan called from the rafters. He had been displeased when the gosling had waddled into the coffeehouse.
“Watch what you say, Pan.” Sophia glanced up at the parrot. “The main reason you have a home is due to Hannah’s abiding love for feathered beings.”
“Is that true?” Eoin asked, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice that his voice sounded more animated.
His clear interest warmed her—much more than was sensible.
Even if she wasn’t investigating Eoin’s family, she’d make an absolutely rubbish nob.
Not that she was considering becoming Eoin’s duchess.
“I was living in the Caribbean when my cousin rescued Pan,” Sophia explained to Eoin.
“But the way my uncle tells the story, he decided to take five-year-old Hannah down to the Pool of London to see the big seafaring ships. She spotted a sailor trying to shove Pan into a much-too-small cage. She broke free from her father’s grasp, stomped over with hands on her hips, and called the fellow a bad, bad man.
Uncle Jack said that the chap didn’t know whether to be offended or to laugh.
Little Hannah proceeded to lecture him on how to be nice to birdies.
Uncle Jack finally caught up to her and tried to urge her along.
Hannah refused, and Uncle Jack is secretly softhearted too.
He ended up buying Pan at an exceedingly high price.
And Pan has happily roosted in the Black Sheep’s rafters ever since. ”
A flush of embarrassment washed over Hannah.
She only remembered snippets of the actual event, but she’d heard her papa recount the tale over and over.
As a girl, she’d loved the familiar story, but it was a mite awkward watching while Eoin listened to her misadventures.
The fact that she was particularly concerned about his reaction was not something upon which she wanted to dwell.
“Enough about the past,” Hannah said brusquely. “We need to make Eoin look beat up.”
“Eoin?” Calliope arched a golden eyebrow.
“Oh, we decided to use first names to maintain our charade,” Hannah said quickly, hating how her heart plinked inside her chest like a tightly wound harp string.
She thought she did a fairly good job of obscuring her reaction, but Eoin flushed a deep scarlet.
The stoic man really had more tells than Hannah had ever suspected.
“Never knew of a nob who wanted to look like a ruffian.” Alun thankfully broke the uncomfortable spell as he once again lifted the burnt cork.
“Put that ridiculous charred thing away. Skin doesn’t look like a sooty smudge when bruised. Flesh mottles.” Calliope made a shooing motion with her hands.
“And how does a gentlewoman such as yourself come to obtain such a breadth of knowledge about contusions?” Alun demanded.
Calliope rolled her eyes. “I have four brothers who are constantly getting into scrapes, and Blackglen is the worst of them all. It’s not as if my sisters and I are particularly sedate.
Do you seriously think that we’ve led such rarefied lives that we haven’t even bumped our shins on heavy furniture? ”
“Do you really wish for me to answer?” Alun’s voice perfectly matched the smirk on his face. Even Hannah, who tended to agree with him about the nobility, wanted to scrub away his pleased expression.
“Your bickering is not productive.” Hannah wished she could bash something—preferably Alun’s and Calliope’s heads together. It was likely the only way for the two to see eye-to-eye.
Alun sighed heavily. “Fine then, Princess Poet. How do you propose that we make a bruise look realistic? I have ochre powder that works for faded contusions, but if we’re hiding Foxglen’s identity, we need something darker.
I don’t have any blues, though, which we’d require for purple hues.
That pigment is too damn expensive even for the Grand. ”
“As it so happens, I do.” Calliope opened an alabaster box covered in images of the Muses.
Inside were smaller circular containers inlayed with decorative pieces of mother-of-pearl.
She unscrewed one of the wooden boxes to reveal a vibrant blue powder.
As far as Hannah knew, such a color could only come from pulverized precious stones.
Although Calliope had been coming to the Black Sheep for half a year now, Hannah still was not accustomed to her casual displays of wealth. It was clear that Alun wasn’t either.
“You do realize that is a crushed gem,” Alun scoffed.
“Of course,” Calliope answered, her voice sounding deliberately blithe as she was clearly intent on baiting the playwright.
“It’s high-quality lapis lazuli. My sister, Clio, is an artist, and I borrowed her supplies.
Clio suggested that we mix some of her lapis and vermillion with a touch of oil of myrtle and gum arabic.
We both think that will produce a good paint. ”
“I agree,” Eoin said.
“Calliope will mix the ointment, and Mr. Powys will apply it.” Sophia broke into the conversation, clearly trying to stave off another dispute. Not for the first time, Hannah was thankful for her cousin’s levelheaded foresight.
“A capital idea,” Calliope cheerfully agreed as she set about pouring the crushed minerals into oil.
“Do you acquiesce to my unparalleled skills in stage cosmetics?” Alun asked, his voice once again punchably superior.
Calliope rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I’ve had plenty of experience painting my siblings’ faces for my brother’s masquerades. I simply don’t wish to be bitten by that goose!”
“So I must sacrifice my ankles?” Alun demanded as Calliope handed him the solution.
“Aren’t you always accusing me of being a hothouse flower?” Calliope asked archly. “How would my delicate skin endure such an assault?”
“She makes an excellent point,” Sophia pointed out.
Alun started to open his mouth for a rebuttal, but Hannah gently pushed him in Eoin’s direction. “Work your artistry!”
“While he’s still holding that menace?” Alun asked, glowering at the goose.
“Perhaps the gosling will allow me to hold it,” Hannah said.
Eoin handed her the goose. To Hannah’s surprise, the bird didn’t protest too much as long as Hannah stood close to Eoin. Thankfully, Alun and Calliope stopped spatting long enough to create rather convincing bruises.
As the fake welts blossomed over Eoin’s countenance, an ominous feeling swelled inside Hannah. Something was clearly amiss at the Horse and Hen, and she had no idea what she and Eoin would encounter. But Hannah had never been one to shy away from danger.