Harriet shook her head in silent reproach at Morgan. She’d been hoping to tell Father what had happened when they were alone.
“Captain Davies has been a hero yet again.” She infused just enough enthusiasm into her voice to sound sarcastic. “He and his brothers confronted John Heron about copying our maps. They made him turn over all the prints he’d made and give up the plate. He promised never to copy someone else’s maps again.”
Father’s brows shot toward his hairline and his mouth split into a wide grin.
“You did, sir? By God, I wish I’d been there to see it! I tell you, if I’d been ten years younger and able to see more than a few blurry shapes I’d have visited him myself and knocked the stuffing out of him, the cheeky blighter.”
“My brother Rhys threatened to do the same if Heron ever repeated the crime.”
Father slapped his palms down on the arms of his chair in jubilation. “Well, thank you, Davies. I never thought I’d have cause to say it in my lifetime, but I’m in your debt.”
Morgan bowed, even though it was doubtful Father could see more than a flicker of movement. “My pleasure.” He turned his gaze toward Harriet and his eyes took on a wicked twinkle that put her immediately on guard. “Oh, I nearly forgot! I have something foryourpleasure too, Miss Montgomery.”
That sounded ominous.
He slid his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrew a small board-bound book, and handed it to her.
“What is it, Harriet?” Father queried.
“A book. Of prints, by the look of it.”
“It’s a bound set of engravings by Thomas Rowlandson,” Morgan said with a smile. “I’m sure you’re familiar with his satirical works.”
Father nodded enthusiastically. “I am indeed. Such a vibrant, amusing artist! His scenes are full of humor and vitality. He captures the most fleeting of moments with just a few lines. What do those drawings show?”
Harriet inspected the cover. “It’s titledPretty Little Games for Young Ladies and Gentlemen. With Pictures of Good Old English Sports and Pastimes.”
That sounded innocent enough, but she didn’t trust the curl of Morgan’s lips. He was up to something.
“It’s actually a rather rare series of etchings Rowlandson produced for an anonymous royal patron a few years ago,” Morgan said. “He made a few extra copies for some of his artist friends, and I managed to get hold of one. I thought you might enjoy it, Miss Montgomery.”
Harriet opened the book at a random page and choked back a gasp of shock. The hand-colored drawing showed a woman, completely nude, surrounded by the discarded tools of a stonemason: a sculptor’s mallet and a hewn block of stone. It was titledPygmalion. The colorist had been overly generous in the use of paint; her cheeks and nipples were a rosy, gaudy pink.
She flicked the page over. A jumble of men and women were all tumbling down a curving staircase. Since none of the ladies were wearing underwear, there were naked limbs, exposed breasts, and bare bottoms everywhere she looked.
Her cheeks flamed.
“Are they amusing scenes?” Father chuckled. “How I wish I could see them again.”
“Yes, they are quite funny!” Harriet croaked.
Morgan’s eyes were brimming with amusement. “There are a few others in there, drawn by Continental artists.”
He reclaimed the book, turned a page, and held it out in front of her.
Heat flushed from her head to her toes. The print showed a woman and a priest on a bed doing decidedly unholy things. The priest had his fingers between the woman’s legs, while she had her hand wrapped around the fleshy rod that sprang from his clerical robes.
Cock, she reminded herself sternly.It’s called a cock. Stop being so missish.
She could barely catch a breath.
Morgan turned the page. This print was entitledTrain de Plaisir. Two ladies and one gentleman were entwined in a carriage. The first lady was kissing the man, while the second lady pleasured him with her mouth.
Harriet’s corset felt increasingly tight. Drowning in embarrassment, she shot Morgan a furious glare for showing her such shocking things in front of her father.
Utterly unrepentant, he pressed the book into her hands. “I’ll leave you to ponder the artistry, Miss Montgomery.”
Oh, the beast!Her cheeks felt hotter than the fiery pits of hell—surely his ultimate destination for pulling such an outrageous trick on her.
