Page 2 of Courting Claudia

She said nothing, merely pointed at the letter.

He skimmed the languid writing until he reached the signature. ‘Miss Claudia J. Prattley, C. J. Prattley.’ C. J. Prattley. Why did that sound so bloody familiar?

“I apologize for being so thick today, madam, but I’ve had one problem after another, and while this name sounds very familiar to me, I simply cannot place it.”

“I work for you, Mr. Middleton. I am one of your illustrators.”

She lifted her hand to her chest, and he couldn’t help but notice the ample bosom it rested upon. She was a plump woman with curves in all the right places, and apple-round cheeks with just the hint of an extra chin. A pleasant-looking woman with bright eyes that held the wonder most people lost in childhood.

This creature worked for him? C. J. Prattley. He let the name rattle a bit in his head. And then it hit him—Society Fashion Report.

“Did I know you were a woman?” He said the words out loud although he truly asked himself.

A blush lit her already rosy cheeks. “I don’t believe so.”

“And you led me to believe you were a man by using your initials?”

Her gloved hands worried the material of her skirt. “I’m afraid so.”

“Clever. You did not believe I would hire you if I knew you were a woman.”

“No, sir.” Her brow furrowed. “Yes, sir. Would you?”

“Probably not.” Leaning back in his chair, he thought on it a bit more. “Although that is a shame considering that you are one of my best illustrators. Your fashion pages alone increased my sales in Society by thirty percent.”

“My drawings? I had no idea.” Again, her hand to that bosom. Remnants of her blush lingered on the creamy flesh of her neck, making him wonder exactly how far down the pretty color traveled. No doubt Miss Prattley had no clue how that simple movement was so tantalizing. He made his glance return to her face.

“Indeed. There is much mystery around your illustrations. I do believe it is the latest buzz in Society—they are all aflutter trying to discover the identity of the anonymous artist. They simply cannot believe the precise detail of the depictions, so they are positive it must be someone in their midst.”

She released a low ooh noise that sounded far more primal and sexual than it should have, considering they merely discussed illustrations. “How very exciting. I’ve never been a part of a mystery before.” Her eyes were intoxicating, the blue depths tugging at him. Innocence. The kind of innocence that on other people looked more like ignorance and usually had him dismissing them without thought. But something about Miss Prattley refused to be dismissed.

He leaned forward. “I’ve even been accused myself of being the artist, since I have on occasion attended an assembly or ball this Season with my aunt. I can scarcely remember an evening when someone hasn’t approached and probed me with questions of your identity. Since the mystery seemed to fuel their purchase of the paper, I played along.”

She tapped a finger on his desk. “Now that you mention it, I have heard some ladies discuss this at recent parties, but Poppy and I always leave their company as I’m so afraid I will give something away. I have a tendency to speak without thinking. It’s a bad habit,” she added softly as if revealing the darkest of sins.

“I suppose now that the truth is out, you don’t need to resign. Your secret is safe with me, Miss Prattley.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your identity. It’s why you wanted to resign, correct?”

“Not exactly. I mean, only my closest friend knows I illustrate for the paper. I hadn’t intended to take the position in the first place. I sent in those initial illustrations never imagining that it would lead to anything. It was wrong of me to take more assignments. I’m afraid my vanity got the better of me. It’s just that when I saw the advertisement for the fashion submissions, I could not help myself.”

“It is understandable. You are quite talented. There is nothing wrong with wanting to share that.”

“Oh, but if my father discovered the truth, why, he would surely disown me. I’m fairly certain of it.”

“That seems severe.”

“He’s very old-fashioned, Mr. Middleton. Traditionally speaking, because of my station I’m not supposed to have a paying position. Except if I were a governess or some such. That might be acceptable.”

“So you are resigning because you recently realized it is improper for you to have a paid position?”

She shook her head, the flowers on her hat bobbing. “No, I have to get married and that is why I must resign.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I cannot be a wife and have a…a job, Mr. Middleton. It would not be appropriate.”