Anne Barbour Read Online Free

remember her at all
    “You see,” he continued, “I have honored my promise. I kept George occupied for less than ten minutes. Now, he assures me, he is completely at your disposal.”
    Behind the viscount, a plump young man bobbed his head in agreement. In a few moments Lord Chelmsford, with a cheerful nod, had departed, and Tally was ushered into the publisher’s office.
    Outside the shabby old building the viscount closed the door behind him. He settled his curly-crowned beaver on his head, and his lips curved in an odd smile. What a singular coincidence, to be sure. He had recognized the girl at once, of course. He doubted he had once thought of her since that night some four years ago, when he had, with intentional brusqueness, forced her to face down her tormentors. Time had done little to improve the aspect of the colorless damsel whom he had partnered in the oddest dance of his career, but those great brown eyes had stayed with him. He smiled again as he remembered the pride in which she had garbed herself, like the raiment of a queen.
    Now she presented herself as plain Miss Talitha Burnside. He experienced a mild curiosity at this, but his mind leaped to the fact that under “Miss Burnside’s” plain exterior lurked a blazing talent, a talent for which he had, at the present, a most pressing need.
    Apparently she had not recognized him. He found himself unexpectedly piqued at this. But then, why should she? She had no doubt exorcised the whole, humiliating incident from her memory. He certainly had no intention of resurrecting a painful moment by reminding her.
    But what a stroke of luck that he had met her again, and right on Mapes’s doorstep! He smiled, picturing the scene that must be taking place behind the doors of Number Three, and he whistled as he made his way to his next appointment.
    In the publisher’s office. Tally settled herself in a large chair opposite the plump young man.
    “But,” she began, looking doubtful. “I was not expecting…”
    “Yes, Miss Burnside? Your appointment was with George Mapes, and I am certainly he.”
    Mr. Mapes laughed, his spectacles glinting in the late afternoon sun pouring through the office window.
    “You were expecting to meet my father, Mapes, Senior. He was called away unexpectedly, so you will have to make do with me, I’m afraid.”
    “Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that—well...” Tally trailed off uncertainly.
    “I understand, Miss Burnside. You had corresponded with my father, and he is the gentleman with whom you expected to deal. Please be assured that he has given me your letter, and I am fully cognizant of your reason for being here.”
    He peered again at his guest, and Tally thought his gaze held some degree of reluctance. She tensed herself for the attack.
    “Very well, then,” she began briskly. “You are aware that I am applying to you as a caricaturist. I have here a representative sample of my work, as well as a letter of introduction from Thomas Beecroft.”
    “Mm, yes. You mentioned Beecroft in your letter to my father. His name, as you might imagine, carries a great deal of weight.  Until he retired ten years ago, he was one of England’s premier caricaturists.” He gazed uncertainly at Tally for a moment. “You actually studied with him?”
    “Oh, yes,” replied Tally firmly. “As you may know, he retired to Cambridgeshire. His present home is not five miles from my own. I met him soon after he moved in.  I was only a child then.”
    Tally paused. Should she tell him just how she, a grubby twelve-year-old had met the Great Man? She chuckled unselfconsciously and was surprised at the encouraging grin returned by Mr. Mapes. She could not know that her eyes, when she laughed, narrowed to sparkling slits that seemed to invite an answering smile.
    “As it happened,” she began, the corners of her generous mouth lifting in an engaging curve, “Uncle Bee—that is, Mr. Beecroft, caught me stealing apples from