Page 19 of The Art of Sinning

She cocked her head. “What an interesting name. Did you know that it’s street cant for ‘rascal’?”

“It is indeed, my lady,” Damber said warily.

“Is it a nickname?” she went on with an air of fascination that surprised Jeremy.

Damber, too, apparently. “I suppose. Only name I ever had.”

“I see.” Compassion glinted in her eyes. “Well, then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Damber. I’ve informed the servants that you’ll be staying in our extra room downstairs. I hope you’ll be comfortable there.”

“Long as it’s no spring-ankle warehouse, I’ll be fine,” Damber mumbled. Then, as if realizing what he’d said, he added, “I mean—”

“I should hope it’s better than a gaol,” she said cheerily. “We have no catchpoles or caterpillars here, I assure you.”

Damber perked up. “No, but I daresay you’ve plenty of country Harrys.”

She laughed. “We do at that, sir. And high shoons, too.”

Damber broke into a grin, then shot Jeremy an accusing look. “You said I wasn’t to use cant around a gentry mort, and here she’s using it more than me.”

“ThanI,” Jeremy corrected him, then realized how ridiculous that sounded in light of the conversation.

How the devil did she understand Damber, anyway? Jeremy only did half the time. From his many trips to the stews, he thought “catchpoles and caterpillars” were sheriffs and soldiers. And he could guess what a country Harry was. But a high shoon?

“I’m afraid I’m not your typical gentry mort,” Lady Yvette told Damber, with a twinkle in her eye.

To put it mildly.Come to think of it, she’d known quite a bit of coarse slang the night they’d met. Granted, her other brother had apparently been a criminal, but not the ill-mannered kind Damber had grown up among. So where had she learned it?

“I collect street cant for my dictionaries,” she explained, as if she’d read his thoughts. “It’s a hobby of sorts. Indeed, I would be delighted to have you add to my store, Damber, especially if you know any boxing terms.”

Damber’s mouth fell open. “I know more than anybody! You just tell me when, and I’ll give you as many as you like.”

“I shall take you up on that sometime.” She glanced at the footman, who’d come up beside her to wait, having finished unlashing the men’s bags from the back of the curricle. “But for now, you should probably get settled in.”

“Aye, my lady,” Damber said with a bob of his head.

She faced Jeremy. “Forgive me, Mr. Keane, but I’m not sure exactly what a painter’s apprentice does. Will you need a valet, or will Damber—”

“My apprentice will do just fine for whatever I require,” Jeremy said, ignoring Damber’s groan. “If your man will show him to my room, he can start unpacking, retightening the canvases, and mixing my paints for the morning.”

The lad had been getting too full of himself of late. It wouldn’t hurt to remind him that talent was nurtured through hard work, and not all of it was as enjoyable as painting and sketching. Or, for that matter, trading slang terms with an unconventional earl’s daughter.

“Very well.” She turned to Damber. “Tom will show you to Mr. Keane’s suite.” She seemed to note the footman’s stiff posture and added, “And your master is right. Perhaps you should save your use of street cant for me and Mr. Keane. I’m not sure my staff would... appreciate its colorful qualities.”

“I’ll be pleased to do whatever your ladyship wishes,” Damber said in the King’s own English, though the gleam in his eye and the tip of his hat were anything but gentlemanly.

She laughed as Damber walked off with Tom, cocky as ever. “He’s a bit of a rogueling, isn’t he? Clearly, you taught him well.”

“Trust me, he was born knowing how to turn a woman up sweet. And what he wasn’t born knowing, he learned in the stews.”

Her smile faltered. “Is that where you met him?”

“God, no. I stumbled across him in Hyde Park, where the lad was sketching people for money.”

“Lad?” she echoed.

“That hulking brute is only fifteen, believe it or not. If you’d seen him when I first met him, too scrawny for his frame, you’d have thought him younger still.”

She searched his face. “You feed him well, I gather.”